“Feisty little thing, are you?” The horrible man seemed amused or somewhat thrilled I’d tried to escape, chuckling in a dark tone that brought continuous shivers. “I guess I’m going to need to take care of that. Nothing a good old-fashioned spanking won’t cure. Maybe you’ll learn to be more respectful of the people in charge.”
“In charge. Don’t you mean an old man? Not a chance.”
He huffed, and my insolence brought a series of savage smacks, his hand moving from cheek to cheek in record time. The pain was intense, the heat splashing across my skin stilling me briefly.
No one had ever done anything like this to me before. No one. Who the hell did he believe himself to be? An entitled thief?
“You’re going to tell me everything. Especially who you’re working for.” He stopped long enough to drag his fingers down my spine. “Your name. Your rank. And the full intentions of your attempt. I will not accept any lies and trust me, I’ll know if you are.”
I’d never been so flustered in my life. I struggled more than I’d done before, shifting enough I fell to the floor.
“Nice try,” he gritted out while yanking me back onto his lap. “You just earned yourself twenty more.”
“La pagherai cara, uomo orribile!” As what happened every time I was pushed past frustration, my heritage was exposed, Italian much easier than English.
He stopped what he was doing long enough to laugh. “You’re threatening me? Really? That I’ll pay for this? You are right about one thing. I am a horrible man, especially to anyone attempting to hurt a member of my family.”
What? Did he say family? Who was he talking about?
And he knew Italian. Great.
Four additional brutal cracks of his palm and I writhed over his lap, suffering in ways that I hadn’t known possible. Not only from the anguish the spanking provided but also from the crazy sense of desire that refused to fade even during his act of punishment. This was insane, the fact my blood pressure had increased creating a fog around my mind.
Another wave of exhaustion rushed into every muscle and for a few seconds, I couldn’t move. Just trying to reenergize was taking a toll. Not only for physical exhaustion but the mental and emotional brainwashing that the bastards had accomplished in New York.
While doing nothing more than breathing, I sensed the handsome intruder was experiencing similar difficulties, the strokes of his hand lighter than before.
His breathing heavier.
The touch of his fingertips more like a gentle caress. Even with the slide of the rough pads, I was pulled into a sweet lull if only for a few seconds.
When he shifted my position again, I was made aware of his bodily condition. The man was fully aroused, which should disgust me.
That wasn’t happening.
Maybe somehow our sex the night before had been a connection I couldn’t break.
I was breathless to the point of biting my lower lip to keep from moaning.
“Who are you?” he asked while his fingers tickled the inside of my right thigh. “My patience is now at the end. Either you tell me or…”
“Or what?”
Now he was the one cursing under his breath. “Who are you? Tell me your name.”
“None of your business. Who are you?”
His sigh heavy, his fingers were now dancing dangerously close to my pussy lips. Another wave of embarrassment hit me hard and fast and when I tried to close my legs, he was having none of it, readjusting until there was no doubt in my mind he was able to see how wet I was.
How intense my desire was.
For a stranger who’d broken into the house where I was staying.
For the masked man who’d awakened the darkest part of me.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said. “I’m in charge and you’re going to tell me everything. Who you work for. Your intentions. How my sister became involved with whatever you’re planning.”
He jarred my system all over again by smashing his hand against my bottom, his strong hand leaving me breathless with no ability to respond.
