I’m not keeping her until I get answers. I’m keeping her forever.
When the Keane brothers sent their hitmen after me, it was Evie Jamieson who warned me. She saved my life, but her reward was a plane ride to a French chateau where she’s now my captive.
I could pretend she’s locked in a bedroom so I can make sure she’s not a spy and she’s been stripped to her panties because I needed her exposed and vulnerable for her interrogation.
I could even pretend I bared and spanked her because it was the only way to make her cooperate.
But that’s not the truth.
She’s here because I wanted her, and her bottom is bright red because I wanted it that way when I claimed her for the first time. But even with tears running down her cheeks as she begs for mercy, the arousal glistening on her thighs reveals what she is far too ashamed to admit out loud.
She knows I’m not letting her go, and she’s not sure she wants me to…
Author: Sassa Daniels
eBook Price: Kindle Unlimited/$4.95
Length: 57,000 words
He takes me into a room decorated with dark, masculine shades of gray. Heavy black drapes cover the windows and there’s a large leather armchair in the corner. There’s no hint of feminine frills in here. I absently decide this must be Daniil’s room as he tosses me onto a large four-poster bed. I scramble to sit up but, as I head for the other side of the mattress, he drags me back toward him. My legs dangle over the edge of the bed and he moves to the side. Pinning me down with a hand at the base of my spine, he flips up the robe I’m wearing, and rips off my panties to bare my bottom. Indignation surges through me as I realize what he’s about to do.
“No!” I gasp as his hand crashes down on my exposed rear. “Stop!”
He doesn’t, of course. In fact, he delivers three more swats in quick succession as my legs kick out. My face flushes with embarrassment as my butt cheeks heat up. I don’t know what’s worse: the humiliation of being treated this way, or the sting prickling under my skin. I wriggle to try to get away from him, but it’s futile. He yanks me back into place and continues to pepper my ass with hard, punishing spanks.
“Did I say you could leave your room?” he demands. “Did I say you could wear a robe?”
My mouth falls open in surprise. That’s his problem? He expected to find me in this room naked and waiting for him? Perhaps he should have told Mila. I don’t tell him that, however; he’s already wound up and there’s no point needling an angry bear.
“No, you didn’t.” Common sense tells me to aim for contrition. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lenkov.”
“Daniil,” he spits as though I’ve somehow insulted him by using his surname. “Now, tell me who you are.”
I frown. I’ve told him my name, more than once if I recall. “I’m Evie.” I squeal as his hand lands on my upper thigh with a loud smack. I flinch, more from the disconcerting sound than the resulting ache. “Evie Jamieson.”
“And who do you work for?”
“What?” I don’t understand. He knows where I work. Tutting impatiently when I fail to answer promptly, he strikes my bottom again. I yelp. That hurt more than the others. Is he stepping up his game, or is the cumulative effect of the blows beginning to take its toll?
“Who do you work for?” His hand makes impact again. My eyes water, blinding me with unshed tears. I shake my hips to alleviate the growing pain even as unbidden pleasure starts to build deep inside my treacherous body. “Do not make me repeat myself, Evie.”
“The New Town Bathhouse,” I reply.
I don’t know what he wants from me. His palm connects with my left buttock and I clench my fists tightly as I grimace.
“I’m a student.”
“That’s it?” he asks. His hand rests on my aching bottom.
“Yes, that’s it.” There’s no follow-up smack so I assume my answer satisfied him.
“How did you know those men were coming for me?”
He slaps my ass, and I cry out. The force of the blows, over and over, causes my nipples to rub against the fabric of the robe. It sets off an involuntary shiver of delight that reaches deep inside me. I blink in astonishment at my reaction. How the hell can I find this arousing?