He continues, “This could be a different kind of spanking that we’d both enjoy. I’d make you take off that sweater and your bra, so I could see those pretty chocolate nipples. But I won’t strip you. Not yet anyway.”
My head buzzes.
His palm cracks against my cheeks, and it smarts badly.
“Oh,” I gasp.
Firm smacks rain down, heat suffusing my flesh. The spanking gets rougher, giving rise to a flaming ache. I squirm. He massages my flesh, then resumes, peppering my ass with hard swats.
“Stop!” I say. “That hurts!”
When I try to defend myself, he pins my hand into the small of my back. Another flurry sets me ablaze. I shake my head wildly and try to kick my legs.
He isn’t finished. Heavier thudding spanks land right at the edge of my bottom. I won’t be able to sit down tomorrow, I think wildly.
“Please,” I beg with tears blurring my eyes.
“Tell me what I want to know. Who gave you the money or who could’ve left it here?”
“I don’t know. I don’t.”
The spanking continues until I am spilling details on the only time I can think of when it could’ve been left.
“I had a party. That’s the only night it could’ve been, I guess,” I say, my voice cracking.
He stops and moves his leg. He eases me onto my knees. I look up at him, the first tears dropping over my lashes.
He takes out his phone and opens a voice memo. “Tell me the names of everyone who was here that night.”
I shake my head sharply, even as tears drip from the edge of my chin onto my shirt. I’m upset and furious, but my freaking nipples are also two arrows pointing at his lap. He’s hard, in more ways than one. It turned him on to treat me like a little girl, to spank my ass like he had the right. I should hate him. And I want to. I really do.
“Names, Zoe, or I’ll take off my belt and really teach you a lesson.”
“Go ahead,” I snap. “I’m not giving you a bunch of names of innocent people for you to harass.”
He smiles, and my heart thuds like it’ll tumble from my chest to lay at his feet. I hate myself for the way I’m turned on by him. He’s a monster, just like Frank Palermo. The fact that Connor’s gorgeous shouldnotmatter.
He unhooks his belt.
I jump to my feet and try to flee, but he snatches my arm and hauls me back to him. His arms wrestle me against his body and one strong hand grips my sore ass, sending waves of pleasure and pain through me.
“You do not want to tempt me into breaking you down. You’re strong, baby, but I’m stronger. I promise you that.”
“Let go of me,” I whisper, making my voice as hard and cold as I can.
“Who are you protecting?”
“My friends.”
“Because they robbed me?”
“No! Because I know what can happen when someone like you shows up to ask questions. Maybe someone will be nervous and seem guilty of something when they’re not. And maybe you’ll hurt someone who had nothing to do with whatever you’re talking about. I won’t give you names. Do whatever you want to me.”
“Whatever I want, huh? That covers a lot of territory.”
I look into his eyes defiantly, but a part of me is not as brave as I’m acting. I know how brutal Frank Palermo can be, and Connor McCann rose swiftly through the ranks to become his second in command at only twenty-four. He gave orders to men fifteen years older than he was. That says everything about how ruthless and dangerous C can be. Now he’s twenty-seven, and, rumor has it, the past two years have only made him harder.
“I just can’t name names. I don’t think any of them are involved. There were almost two dozen people here. Some of them had friends with them.”
