“Owwwww!Owwwww!” I cry, the fifth and sixth spanks landing so hard I almost feel my legs giving way underneath me.
“Now get yourself washed and dried,” Ivan barks, stepping back and watching on as I hop from foot to foot and desperately try to distract myself from the pain. “And, yes, I will be watching you every step of the way.”
“Yes, sir,” I answer, my ass on fire but my mind already back in business mode. “I’ll do better from now on.”
Ivan nods.
But if he thinks I’m scared of him or ready to play by his rules he’s got another thing coming. From here on out, I’m all about the long game. He wants a boy he can break, punish, and play with… it’s written all over his face, and judging by the big tent at the front of his trousers it’s hardwired into his cock too.
Well, if that’s what he wants, that’s what I’ll give him.
All the while I’ll be plotting my escape. Ivan is a hired hand, a kidnapper and an asshole.
Ivan has kidnapped Landon Lane.
But I’m also Artyom Galkin too—and Ivan hasno ideawhat he’s capable of…
Chapter 6
Ivan
The steam from the bathroom is still on my mind as I pace the kitchen. My footsteps echo softly on the marble floor, a rhythmic thud that matches the pulse in my temples.
That boy—Landon, Artyom, whatever the hell he wants to call himself—has fire in him, I'll give him that. The way he stomped his feet under the shower, a true defiance flashing in his eyes even as his ass turned pink under my hand.
And that cock too. It was thicker and bigger than his frame would suggest. The way it went from zero to a hundred too… that was one horny boy, there’s no doubt about that.
Hell.
It's stuck in my mind like a burr.
He’s sitting at the large oak table now, his back ramrod straight, face flushed a deep crimson that I suspect mirrors the state of his backside. His wet clothes cling to his body, outlining muscles I shouldn't be noticing, but damn if it's not hard to ignore.
I offered him a robe to wear, but he refused.
I guess it’s not my problem if he catches a cold like this.
He’s glaring at the tabletop like it personally offended him, arms crossed tightly over his chest. No tears, though. No begging. Just that stubborn silence.
I turn to the coffee machine: a sleek, Italian model that grinds beans fresh and brews espresso strong enough to wake the dead. The whir of the grinder fills the quiet, giving me a moment to collect myself.
My cock is still half-hard from the spanking, the memory of his soft skin under my palm, the way he gasped and counted...
Fuck.
Focus, Ivan.
This is a job, not a date.
"Want one?" I ask, keeping my voice neutral as I pour the dark liquid into a mug. "Coffee. Black, or I can add milk if you're into that."
He doesn't look up. Landon just shakes his head once, sharply. Unimpressed doesn't begin to cover it. His lips press into a thin line, like he’s biting back a string of curses.
Fair enough.
I just tanned his ass like a naughty child. But he broke the rules. Consequences were promised. And they were delivered. Landon knows that his behavior won’t go unchecked, and that will make this whole thing easier.
I set my mug down and open the refrigerator, the cool air a brief relief against my heated skin. Grabbing a bottle of water, I walk over and place it on the table next to him.
