“What a bad girl,” he laughed darkly.
I stiffened.
But because of the situation, I didn’t see the instrument coming. There was a small whistle and then a crack as something—not his hand—swatted against my bottom.
I gasped and strained, leaning as far as I could to get away from that. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
Vincenzo gripped the waistband of my trousers. He delivered another stinging blow against my backside. “I’m going to paddle this pretty little ass until it’s red.”
“No,” Ichoked out. “Ow, Enzo!”
His palm cupped the smarting flesh, rubbing and kneading. “You can get on your knees and show me how sorry you are for messing with the locks.”
“Not happening!” I jerked away.
His sigh sounded so happy. “Scream all you want, fiore, the walls will echo the sound.”
He spanked me again. Two swift blows, and then he slid his palm between my legs.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured. “Good. That means your body knows who’s in charge.”
“Let me down! I don’t want this.”
Vincenzo palmed my pussy hard. “Yes, you do. Your body can only tell me the truth. And right now, I bet that you’re drenched for me. That bare pussy is probably dripping. Shall we find out?”
“NO!”
Despite my protests, he made short work of pulling down my trousers.
I knew what he’d find. He did too. I was hot and slick with arousal. As much as I hated the traitorous reaction, being chased and caught made me shiver with delight.
“You ready to be fucked now?” He continued to stroke me.
“Absolutely not!” I tasted the lie, but I wasn’t giving in. No matter how his touch felt. Despite him turning the mundane task of grocery shopping into a dark fantasy. “Let me go!”
“Your pulse is racing. Don’t fight it. Don’t hide it.” He pushed his fingers inside me. “I’m the only one who gets to hear you fall apart like this. So, scream. Scream for me, fiore.”
A strangled cry fell from my lips.
Somehow, it didn’t sound like defeat.
Wrapping his arms around my back, he used his other hand and rubbed my clit, shooting pleasure like arrows right into my core.
“You have no idea what you do to me, do you? Standing here, helpless, at my mercy…it’sintoxicating.”
“Go to hell,” I said, because that was what a captive was supposed to say.
I would die if he left now. I would weep if he stopped.
He slid his fingers in and out for a few more seconds, and then he drew them out.
A sob hitched in my throat.
Before I could protest—or something far more embarrassing like beg him to continue—something cold and hard grazed up my thigh. It had teeth. Tiny little prongs.
A serrated knife.
I held painfully still as it carved an upward path. It slid under my shirt, up my belly, and right to the edge of my bra. I squeaked as the barbs bit into my skin. It was the perfect amount of pressure. A fatal warning. With a twist of his wrist, it turned and stabbed through the front of my shirt.
