Page 17

No clipboard. No questions about the boy in the work clothes with his pulse in his throat.

We cross the lobby. Private elevator… of course.

The doors close and the city noise dies. I stand beside Dmitri with my hands in my coat pockets so he cannot see them shake. He is silent. The silence is worse than talking. Talking I can fight. Silence just sits there and looks at me.

Dmitri’s eyes do the talking. They say I followed him. They say I chose this. They say the game I started in a side room this morning is still going and I am not the one keeping score.

The elevator begins to climb.

Slow. Too slow. I can literally hear the mechanisms turning and churning. Truly, this is old money living.

My reflection sits in the brushed metal beside Dmitri’s. I look flushed and smaller than I felt on the street. He looks exactly the same as he did when he grinned at me with Mackensie’s hand on my arm.

I’m about to speak but then he moves.

The Stop button clicks.

The elevator car shudders and holds. I barely have time to turn before Dmitri’s hands are on me. He spins me to face the wall, one palm between my shoulders, the other already at my waistband.

“Dmitri—”

“Quiet, boy.”

I gasp as Dmitri yanks my trousers and briefs down in one hard pull. Cold air hits my ass.

I gasp.

“Bad boys get punished,” Dmitri growls, the tone of his voice sending signals direct to my cock as it jumpstarts and begins to grow.

The first spank lands before I can get a sentence out.

Hard. Firm. Definitely not playful.

The sound cracks in the small car and my body jolts forward into the wall.

I yelp.

The second comes just as fast, lower, and the third stacks heat on heat until my eyes water.

“That is for the fake name,” Dmitri says.

Another.

“That is for the door.”

Another.

“That is for sitting in a window and thinking I would not see you. “

I try to twist. Dmitri’s forearm pins me. He spanks me again, measured, relentless, until my skin is burning and my breath is a mess against the metal.

But the worst part is not the sting. The worst part is what happens between my legs.

I’m harder than hard. My swollen cock is throbbing endlessly. My dick head is pulsing, swollen, more purple than ever as the agony and ecstasy builds.

I bite down on a sound that is not only pain. I do what I can to hide my arousal.

But Dmitri knows. Of course he knows. Dmitri’s hand stills on my hot ass. Then his fingers slide down, slow, and trace the seam of my balls and then up my bobbing shaft. I jerk.