Page 48 of Wrong Pawn. Right Capo.

“Fuck you!” I spit.

He slams his hand on my thighs, just below my ass. God! The burning sensation makes my clit throb and draws even more wetness.

“Fuck. Look at you dripping all over my cock like a dirty little slut,” he groans.

Oh, that voice would be my undoing.

“Just shut up and fuck me,” I snap, pressing my ass back against him, ushering his entire length into me. A guttural moan tears through my throat.

He groans angrily, pulling himself out. “I said no touching.”

“I didn’t touch you,” I snap back.

His palms fall on my ass again, slapping the cheeks until the sensation moves from stinging to numbness.

“For every time you disobey me, you get a round of ten spanks. Am I clear?”

Unwillingly, I nod my head, my lips quivering from both the pain and pleasure.

He pulls up his jeans and boxers, yanks me back to my feet, heaves me over his shoulder and marches upstairs to my bedroom.

“Set me down. Now!”

“Too late, Principessa. I warned you.”

There are shards of glass everywhere on the floor, and some of it on the duvet. He yanks the duvet off, feels the bed for any remaining glass, then throws me on it.

I’m yet to recover from the impact when he grabs my wrists, locking them up above my head with his belt. Reaching into my drawer, he snatches out one of Puddle’s collars, strapping it around my ankles.

Then he helps me into a kneeling position, my ass high in the air, my hands locked together in front of me.

“This is so not fair!” I scream.

In one swift move, he pulls down his pants and boxers, and climbs onto the bed, his weight slightly tilting the mattress as he does.

“Life is never fair, mio amore (my love).” And with that, he slams into me.

His thrusts are feverish, like he’s desperately trying to get something out of his system. My hands reach for the sheets in front of me, grabbing on for support as waves of pleasure wash over me.

He bends over me, reaching to squeeze my tits. “Is that all you got?” I moan in frustration. If my hands weren’t bound, I’d have reached out to show him how to squeeze properly.

“You want more?” he taunts, sliding his dick out of me until the tip is resting on my opening. “You fucking beg for more.”

Shit. There’s no way I’m begging Adriano Bellandini.

He rubs the tip of his cock furiously over my clit until I’m arching my back desperately, but he won’t budge. God, I can feel my climax so near, but it’s as if it’s evading me every time I try to get into it.

And it’s all his fucking fault. He’s torturing me—he wants me to beg for him, and I feel my body giving up on me as tears of frustration claw at the back of my eyes.

“Please…” I finally mutter.

“Please what?” he snaps. I can hear the hunger climbing back into his voice.

“Please make me cum.”

“Good girl.” He slams back into me, my back nestling into him until my clit is pressed against his large balls. When he begins his movement again, my thighs begin to tremble, the release threatening to unravel every inch of my insides.

He reaches forward, flicking my nipples before squeezing and kneading my breasts.