Prey: A Dark Mafia Romance by Piper Stone – Sample

Chapter One

Darkness…

Foreboding to some. To him, the ominous shadows were comforting, allowing him complete anonymity in order to perform the jobs he’d been paid well to execute. Tonight was no exception and he was exhilarated, adrenaline flowing. He craved the chase, the moment when he locked onto his target. Every assignment was unusual. Different countries. Powerful individuals. Beautiful women. Incredible food and drink. His skills allowed for careful selection, the very reason he was still alive.

Even though there were strict requirements.

He moved through the darkness, finding the house with ease. The mark had evidently caught wind there was a contract on his life, leaving his usual environment in utter disarray. And somehow, the man thought he’d remain safe in the countryside, a little house in the woods that no one was supposed to know about. Snickering, he eased the gun from his jacket, adding the silencer as he headed toward the rear, all the while scanning the perimeter. Surprises he didn’t need. At least the fucker would be alone, an easy target.

The entire back of the house was full of windows, the massive set of sliding doors peering out onto a lush garden. There were no other houses in close proximity, another perk of this particular job. He inched closer, able to see the mark sitting in an overstuffed chair directly in front of a roaring fire.

Like taking candy from a baby.

He moved into the most optimal position, holding the weapon in both hands. A split second before he pulled the trigger, he jerked back, cursing under his breath. The man was supposed to be alone. Fuck! He shoved the gun back into his pocket and headed straight through the woods toward the awaiting vehicle. Yanking out his phone, he studied the reception. Just enough. The call was answered within two rings.

“Yes?”

“Mission aborted,” he half whispered as he opened the driver’s door.

There was a long pause.

“Why?”

“I have my reasons. To be completed at a later time.” Ending the call, he tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. He was a cold-blooded killer but even he had his scruples, no matter what the blessed consortium required of him.

He would never complete a contract in front of a child.

Monte Carlo

Eight days later

“Do you know what I want?” she purred as she slipped first one then her other arm around Wrath’s neck, her red lips glistening even in the shadowed light.

Ricardo ‘Wrath’ Constantino had been with many women over the years, devouring several varieties, but French girls were usually far more discerning about their tastes in men. Cherry certainly didn’t seem to understand that if she accepted several drinks then invited a killer to her condo she could face the ultimate demise. Granted, she wasn’t his target, nor would she know of his profession. However, the irony was delightful. “Now, what could that possibly be?” he asked as he brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek.

“I love your commanding manner. So sexy.” Cherry clung to him, her eyes holding the haze of intoxication. “I hunger for a taste of that hard body of yours.” She kissed his lips, darting out her tongue and dragging the tip across the seam of his mouth.

He allowed her to toy with him, teasing as she slid one hand down his chest. Sadly, he’d grown bored of the evening. Even winning at Blackjack didn’t have any effect on his sour mood. What did entice him was the gorgeous redhead sitting at another Blackjack table, the scarlet dress the perfect complement to her stunning long legs and hourglass figure. He was hungry, having played the perfect gentleman during his time spent in the amazing city.

What he could easily see was that she was an expert at a slight of hand, kiting the system. He was amused as well as aroused by her brazen attempt at winning. If she was caught, the punishment would be extremely harsh.

“Cherry, you are a lovely woman, but I believe I see someone I know. An unexpected surprise. I’m certain you can understand.”

Pouting her ruby-stained lips, she lifted a single eyebrow, her index finger sliding back and forth across his Adam’s apple. When she knew he was serious, she huffed. “Merde. Fine. Have it your way, but you’re missing out.”

He waited until she walked away, flipping him her middle finger in frustration, her next set of words spoken with a nasty tone. “Je m’en fous!”

She’d consumed one too many glasses of champagne. She didn’t give a fuck, eh? Well, then neither would he.

Wrath studied the lovely redhead at the other table as she worked, taking her time and winning only small bets. Even the card dealer, a trained expert, seemed to have no idea about her exceptional skills. He took a sip of his bourbon, debating exactly what to do. His cock ached, throbbing against his tuxedo pants, a clear sign that he needed to meet her. Few women had any effect on him, fewer still holding his interest for even this long.

After she won yet another hand, he polished off his drink and moved in the direction of the table, taking the last spot, which happened to be on her left. He acknowledged the players, waiting to greet her last. “Madame.” His French accent was one that the majority of women found endearing. He had a feeling this woman couldn’t care less simply by her caustic body language.

“Miss.” She gave him a once-over as the dealer positioned the new cards, yawning after a few seconds.

His amusement turned into raging hunger, his balls tightening.

“Fascinating,” he whispered so only she could hear.

“Are you flirting with me?” she asked in a haughty tone.

He chuckled, darting his eyes in her direction. She was American and appeared to be all alone, although looks could be deceiving. “I rarely flirt because I usually get what I want without question.”

“Ah, you’re that kind of man.”

“And which kind is that?”

“An asshole.” Purring, she took a sip of her wine, shifting her stool and allowing him a more captivating look at her legs.

Wrath gave her a slight nod of respect. The woman was tough as nails. He could only imagine her behavior in bed.

As the cards were turned, he watched her intently, studying the way she was able to cheat. There was something odd about her mannerisms, so polished and perfect. He was more than impressed, her abilities surpassing some of the best he’d known. She was truly magnificent.

Drinks were brought, the players dropping out one by one after mere minutes.

After she won yet another hand, Wrath leaned over, whispering in her ear, “You’re very good at what you do. I’m impressed and that never happens.”

She only slightly tipped her head. He could easily tell that she was aggravated at the interruption. The bet she had on the table was the largest of the night, one that would easily net her a cool fifty G’s. “And what might that be?”

The sound of her voice was alluring, seductive in the soft inflections. “You’re a cheat. How do I know this? Because I was hired and trained to spot even those with utter finesse.” He allowed the words to sink in, his cock throbbing as her porcelain face flushed, turning a lovely shade of pink.

“How dare you! I’m no cheat,” she whispered, reaching for her wine in her usual confident manner.

“And you and I both know you’re lying.” Wrath gathered his meager winnings and moved away from the table, tossing a hundred dollar chip toward the dealer. “Thank you, sir. This table is far too hot for me.”

“Thank you,” the dealer said with a smile then glanced at the remaining players, the tip understood.

Wrath slid his hands into his pockets, taking long strides out the main door then leaning against the wall. There would be no more winning for the lovely lady tonight. If his calculations were correct, she would be coming through the door in…

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

The redhead was on cue, bolting through the door. Instead of any concept of fear on her face, she was furious, her eyes scanning the corridor. Seconds later, she jerked up her long dress, cursing what the Americans called a blue streak as she strode in the opposite direction. “Goddamn motherfucking asshole.”

Wrath moved out of the shadows, following closely behind. She wasn’t a true card shark, or if she was, she was certainly taking calculated risks. Perhaps he needed to get to the bottom of her true identity. The last thing he needed was trouble prior to fulfilling his contract.

Especially since the mark was MIA.

His long legs were more than a match for a woman in shockingly high heels, his hand wrapping around her arm and jerking her to the side.

“You. What do you want?” she snapped, struggling to get out of his hold. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Shh… Such language. Now, we can handle this situation one of two ways, which will be entirely your decision.” Wrath kept his voice low, certainly not loud enough to register to anyone in close proximity. He crowded her space, drinking in her exotic perfume. Visions of shackling her naked to his bed popped into his nefarious mind.

Hissing, she yanked again, almost getting out of his grasp. “I’ll ask you one. Last. Time. Who the hell do you think you are?”

She certainly carried an air of arrogance, something he did appreciate, especially in a woman. Time to call her bluff. “Someone who knows a thief when he sees one. As I was saying, you can come with me now or I’ll simply call in the local policia.”

The single tic in the corner of her mouth was the only giveaway that she was bothered in any manner. Otherwise, she played the situation as she had the cards.

Calculated.

“Policia?” she mused, her eyes flashing.

He’d made a single mistake, one that could cost him. Tonight, he was a Frenchman, the terminology entirely different than his native country. “The Monte Carlo police division is well known throughout the world as being brutal.” The lie sounded plausible. The second shimmer of her eyes indicated she wasn’t entirely certain whether he was telling the truth.

“You have the situation wrong. I need to see some identification, Mr. Know it All,” she barked, throwing out her arm, beckoning with her fingers.

Chuckling, he was becoming more and more fascinated with the woman.

Challenging.

Breathtaking.

A pain in his ass.

He dug into his pocket, holding out his credentials at least long enough for her to see the official police department seal. “As you can see, I’m a member of the Monaco police force as well as serve as security for the casino and hotel. Now, we need to talk about your misguided behavior.”

“Misguided behavior. Interesting. Then you should…” She cut her sentence short and closed her eyes. “Where are you taking me, Mr. Police Officer?”

“Then you admit your crime?”

“Fine. I’ll admit to cheating as well as wretched behavior unbecoming a woman. I’m a terrible thief taking money from the mouths of babes. Take me to your superiors so we can get this straightened out.”

Wrath pulled her against the heat of his chest, drinking in her perfume, enjoying the hell out of her sarcasm. His mind shifted to the filthy things he was going to do to this girl, the stern discipline he was going to give her. His mouth watered to the point he was fearful she’d gather a scent of his raging libido. “You do understand the harsh punishment that is in store for you, yes? We do not take kindly to foreigners believing they can, how do you say, dupe us.” He was careful not to give away his intense desire, his cock pushing hard against the tight confines of his very expensive tux. He could tell she’d grown impatient with their banter.

“Dupe you? Jesus.” She rubbed her forehead, obviously exasperated. “Look, Marco or Polo or whatever the hell your name is, any punishment that you decide is fine. I’ll do it. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Then you agree to the deal in order to keep you out of jail? A woman with some incredible beauty would not do well behind thick iron bars.” Wrath certainly appreciated a woman who had balls larger than the majority of men he’d come in contact with.

She tipped her head, staring into his eyes. Hers were the bluest he’d ever seen, mesmerizing in their intensity, filling his mind with even more vile thoughts. “Agreed. Mr. Policeman.”

This might just turn out to be a fabulous evening after all.

Sophia Waters kept the hundreds of nasty words that remained in the back of her mind off her tongue. She’d been told by the powers that be in the freaking casino that she wouldn’t be hassled in her attempt to draw out the motherfucking asshole assassin who’d cut her first vacation in six years short. Why her? Weren’t there more qualified agents?

“We need a woman to go in, a beautiful woman and someone he won’t suspect. The assassin in question is cunning, able to take out his mark in mere minutes. We have no idea whether he’ll be in Monte Carlo, but we certainly can’t take that chance. He’s managed to elude twenty-five different officers of the law in five countries. That isn’t going to happen on my watch.”

He? The FBI had no clue who the man was, his identity reduced to being called The Player.

She’d heard the crap spewed out of her director’s mouth more than once, but she’d been offered no choice in the decision.

Huffing, she curtailed her anger long enough to gaze into the police officer’s eyes. They were the most intense shade of green, an interesting contrast to his inkjet black hair. He was roughhewn and exotic, the combination deadly to the woman buried inside.

While the tailored tux was able to hide a portion of the man’s stunning physique, she could tell he’d spent countless days at the gym, honing his sculpted ass and muscular legs. She was disgusted to say that the man turned her on. Maybe her hunger was out of control since it had been a solid eight, no, nine months since she’d had sex with anyone.

And the last event had been more like a circus.

“Please put your hands behind your back,” the officer said.

“Excuse me?” she asked, finally managing to jerk all the way out of his hold. The little voice inside her head, as well as her intense years of training, told her the man was hiding something.

His identity for one. Or maybe his proclivities.

However, the credentials looked real enough and she certainly couldn’t afford to have her cover blown. Not when she was this close to achieving her mission. Play along. Gather information. Turn his ass in as an imposter.

She curtailed her inner voice, realizing that she hadn’t been undercover in years, something she couldn’t take lightly.

He flipped the handcuffs from his pocket, shaking his head as he stared at her intently. The entire hallway was full of people, men and women already gawking at the ongoing scene. He seemed quite pleased with himself that he was humiliating her.

“I said I’d come with you,” she said under her breath. You asshole, jerkoff. Piece of shit. So much for her resolve. Her boss was going to have her head on a platter. That was the bottom line truth. The man she was trying to protect should be here any second. How in the hell was she going to get herself out of this? The sexy police officer’s superiors couldn’t be that far away. “I don’t think we need to go that far.”

“A requirement of the hotel, Miss…” He took a decided step closer.

She took one far removed from him. “Harper. Ashley Harper. And you are?” Big man with little gun in pocket. She was able to see the outline of his weapon easily. What she hadn’t noticed was his name.

“Officer Pierre Renier.” He wasted no time, slapping a cuff around first one wrist then the other.

Sophia had worked long and had to get an overseas assignment, even though the timing couldn’t have been worse. And this case? Winning hadn’t been in her favor from the get-go but blowing her cover for something like this wasn’t in her best interest. The fact he’d actually figured out she was cheating surprised the hell of her. She’d been taught by the best and most notorious criminal card shark in the business. Okay, so only for a few hours but she was a quick study. Winning at Blackjack was supposed to be a lure for the man she’d been sent to protect. Everything at this point had failed miserably. Hissing, she didn’t resist as he paraded her through the hotel and toward a set of elevators. “Where are you taking me?”

“I suggest you keep your mouth shut at this time, Ms. Harper. Remember that anything you say can and will be used against you.”

“Does that mean that I’m under arrest?” Did she hear the man chuckling? “Answer me.” Asshole. God, the number of words she wanted to spew at him could burn the place down with their vehemence.

“We will see based on your behavior.”

“My behavior?” She was dealing with an overt amateur.

“Yes, vital to my determination of what’s going to happen.” He pressed the button for the elevator, pulling her against him.

This time, she could swear the man had a throbbing hard-on. Fantastic. She’d managed to find the one officer in all of Monte Carlo with a sick sense of humor.

Or worse.

She tapped her heel against the aging marble, trying her best to keep her mouth shut. She was losing precious time. From everything she’d been told, the hit was going to occur sometime tonight. If she fucked this up, she could kiss her career goodbye. As they stepped inside, she had a terrible feeling that this night was going to go straight to hell. There was only one man in the hotel who knew her real identity and he’d need to pull some serious strings in order to keep her out of jail and allow her to keep her passport.

Whatever punishment this man had in mind, she had a terrible feeling she was bound to submit to him. While the thought should be nothing but revolting, she found him far too attractive for her own good. Damn it.

He kept his hand on her arm, his fingers digging into her skin. She inhaled and his exotic scent filled her nostrils, making her pussy clench.

“Did you know that corporal punishment is the preferred method in Monte Carlo?”

The tone of his voice was like smooth velvet brushing ever so lightly against her naked skin. She shuddered as his hot breath skipped across her neck, tickling her ear. Swallowing, she tried to rationalize exactly what he was saying. Everything in her mind was muddled at this moment, preventing her from thinking clearly. Or rationally. “Corporal punishment?”

Ping.

The sound of the elevator made her jump. She noticed they were heading straight up.

“Yes, I think you can appreciate what I’m saying. Can’t you, Ashley?”

Even the way he said her name was sexy as fuck, forcing her body into a complete state of arousal. Her nipples were fully erect, scraping against her thousand-dollar dress. Her instinct told her that she’d made a terrible decision in going through with this. The fact she’d been taken to the penthouse suites was a dead giveaway. This had nothing to do with being arrested in the traditional sense.

“I demand you take me to your superiors,” Sophia barked. Everything about this was very wrong, her hackles raised. When the doors opened, she managed to wrangle out of his grasp, kicking him square in the groin. The force was enough to thrust him against the piece of antique furniture positioned next to the wall, the lamp crashing onto the floor.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, wincing as he went down.

Come on. Come on. Even with her hands behind her back, she was able to get to the controls, pressing the close button with her elbow. She hit as many floors as she could, laughing when she noticed the shocked look on his face. “Take that, sexy man.” Taking several deep breaths, she continued struggling, trying desperately to get herself out of this predicament. Thank God the cuffs weren’t that tight, allowing her after several breathless seconds to wrench one hand free.

That’s when she noticed the elevator wasn’t moving. The second she slapped her hand against a series of buttons, the door opened, revealing one grinning officer.

“Did you miss me, sweetheart?” This time he wasn’t alone, several obvious tourists stepping inside, their gazes immediately falling to the loose handcuff.

“Not even one little bit,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “I don’t think I like your form of foreplay, baby.”

“Oh, come on, darling. You said you enjoyed the rough stuff.”

The few gasps were followed by the entire group of four sliding all the way to the rear of the elevator. She knew better than to make a scene, at least not right now.

Officer Renier pulled her into a hallway, whispering in her ear, “Nice try. Now your punishment is going to be significantly worse.” He said nothing as he halfway dragged her down the hall, shoving a keycard into the mechanism of one of the hotel room doors as he darted looks down the corridor.

“What’s wrong, Officer? Don’t want to get caught taking a poor, unassuming American to a hotel suite?” She heard the low-slung growl coming from his throat and when he pushed her inside, she jerked around to face him. The single light on in the room highlighted his displeasure, accentuating the rise and fall of his chest. The man was arrogant, egotistical, and damn if she didn’t want to suck him off. She bit back a laugh at the thought. Maybe she did like the rough stuff after all.

There was no hiding the look of desire on his face or the way his eyes undressed her, his gaze roaming all over every inch of her body. “You’re lucky I don’t punish you in front of our guests.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He took two steps closer until he towered over her. “Would you like to try me?”

Sophia rubbed her wrist, finally holding out her other hand. She was quite cognizant that the drapes were fully open, several buildings within throwing distance and balconies full of people. There was something quite shameful in the concept of exhibitionism. “Uncuff me.”

“Do you really think that demanding is going to garner you any favors?” He visibly winced, shifting his hips as he brushed both hands through his disheveled hair.

“For an officer of the French police, you seem out of practice,” she countered. “Did my itty bitty push do the poor boy some damage? Do you need a medic?” She adored the way his entire body puffed up from her comment. The man certainly wasn’t used to being around a strong woman.

He muttered in another language and she could swear it was Italian and not French. All the little red flags that had kept her alive over the years were flying high.

While she adored toying with him, she couldn’t lose sight of the single reason she’d been sent to a foreign country on a whim.

“Who are you really, Pierre, if that’s even your real name?”

“Who am I?” he asked as he sauntered forward, removing a small key from his pocket. “The man who might keep you out of prison. That is, if you do exactly what I say.”

She’d challenged him and lost, regretting that she’d left her weapon in her hotel room safe. The night wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

“Are you going to obey me, or do I need to shackle you to the bed?” He grabbed her wrist, the force just enough she yelped.

“What do you want from me?”

“What do I want?” He chuckled darkly as he slipped the key into the small hole. The single click as the handcuff was released gave him a smile. Lifting her arm, he examined the wrist she’d removed herself. “Very cagey. Where did you learn that trick, in prison?”

“I have many skills, Officer Renier.” She yanked her wrist for the last time, almost tumbling over the corner of the couch. After reminding herself that she was a trained officer of the law, she scanned the room as casually as possible, looking for another way out.

“I assure you, Ms. Harper, that there is no way past me.” He took off his jacket, laughing the entire time.

Sophia watched him, marveling at his broad shoulders and thin waist, the way his shaggy hair held a slight curl. “Then name your terms. I have other business to attend to.”

He removed his jeweled cufflinks, carefully placing them on the coffee table, his eyes never leaving her. As he rolled up one sleeve then the other, he hummed a sinfully melodic tune.

“What are you doing?” she couldn’t refrain from asking. He seemed so casual about this, as if he did this kind of thing all the time.

“Preparing.”

“For?”

“Why, your punishment, of course.” His eyes sparkled when he was finally ready, taking a decided step closer. “Strip.”

There was no way she’d heard the single word. She had to be dreaming. A nervous laugh popped out of her mouth and she almost doubled over. “What did you say to me?”

“I think we need to get something straight, Ashley Harper. I caught a thief red-handed. You accepted the terms of your punishment without, I might add, asking a single question. Therefore, you will do exactly as I say. Now, given the fact you already attempted to escape, the punishment you receive will be severe.”

Heat rushed up from the swell in her breasts to her neck, creeping up ever so slowly to her cheeks. A slight ringing sound tickled her eardrums and her panties were now more than just damp. “I don’t understand.”

“Oh, I think you do. I will ask this one more time. If you don’t obey me, I’ll rip that lovely dress from your body. Strip.”

She blinked several times. Nothing in her career had ever prepared her for something like this. She’d been tossed into a cage by a nasty kingpin, thrown off a bridge, left in the trunk of a car for two days and suffered not one but two gunshots. But this was… deplorable. “I… can’t.” Her mouth was completely dry. Had she even spoken the words at all?

“I know you can. You’re a smart lady, beautiful and feisty but certainly very intelligent. I suggest you do as you’re told. I’ll be right over here, but I suggest that you do not keep me waiting for long.” He showed off his pearly whites as he passed, allowing his fingers to brush across her skin.

Another shiver tickled her spine, popping all the way down to her legs. She was shaking all over and her condition had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. This was beyond acceptable, but she could see no other way out. You can do this. You’re a professional.

Yeah, of what exactly?

Swallowing twice, she turned away from him, kicking off her shoes. She was going to kill the director for this. When Officer Renier started humming again and she heard the sound of ice clinking in a glass, she almost lost it. How dare this… fucking asshole do something like this. If only she had her weapon.

“I’m waiting,” he said in a singsong voice from behind, the sound so goddamn seductive.

Why did he have to be so good-looking?

She managed to unzip her dress, wiggling until the material slipped to the floor. Almost immediately she slapped her arms over her breasts, fighting the urge to hurl.

“Panties as well, although I do admit, they are very sexy.”

“God! You’re an asshole.”

“Trust me, sweetheart. I’ve been called so much worse.” He snickered in the background before continuing to hum the ridiculous tune.

“Fuck this. Fuck my life. Fuck everything.”

“And you’re a woman who could use a solid mouth washing. For a lady to say such things is profane.”

Sophia snarled loud enough he was able to hear before sliding her fingers under the thin elastic of her panties. Nothing had ever been this humiliating in her entire life. When she was completely naked, she knew there was nothing she could hide from the man. “I will get you for this one day, Officer.” She turned very slowly, scrutinizing his every action, trying to gather a bead on just who this man really was.

And how he’d managed to force her into such a vulnerable state.

“And you know what? I look forward to the day you attempt to follow through with your retaliation. Oh, and you might as well call me Pierre since we’re going to get to know each other quite intimately.”

“Is that a threat?”

“I never make threats, sweetheart, only promises.”

She wanted to rip his eyeballs out and feed them to some animal passing by.

He surveyed the room, rubbing his jaw with his index finger and thumb, finally yanking the hardback chair from under the desk. “This should do nicely. Oh, and let’s see.” He moved through the room, checking drawers then going into another room.

This would have been her opportunity to bolt.

If she wasn’t stark naked.

The irony of the situation made her sick to her stomach. This wasn’t anything she was going to put on her report, no matter the circumstances. After a quick glance toward the chair, she realized exactly what the man was going to do.

“Oh, fuck, no.”

A spanking. The asshole was going to give her a hard spanking. Corporal punishment, my ass. The thought rocked her entire world. No one in her life had ever laid a hand on her, other than criminals and they’d been put in their place in a flash. Backing up, she was mortified at the thought, already humiliated enough she couldn’t think clearly.

Her behavior had been akin to a rookie, not a seasoned pro.

Pierre returned a few seconds later, twirling a wooden brush in his hand. “Perfect. I think a spanking is required to be severe in order to get the meaning across. Don’t you?”

She had no idea what to say and no sassy retort.

“I can see that you agree. Come on over here.” He walked toward the chair, plopping down and patting his lap. “This is going to hurt me more than you. No, that’s a complete lie. This is going to be very painful for you, but you deserve it. Don’t you?”

Sophia managed to open her mouth, but the ugly whimper made her slam it shut. Holding her head high, she sauntered toward him, making certain she kept her attitude intact. “You’re never going to get away with this.”

His gaze moved from her polished toes all the way to her eyes, lingering on her pussy and breasts enough that she almost flew off the handle. “I guess we’ll see, Ms. Harper.” In a swift move, he snagged her wrist, yanking her over his lap, the brush coming down instantly.

“Fuck!” she moaned, wiggling and flailing as he slapped the brush across her bottom, moving from one ass cheek to the other in rapid succession.

“Bad girls need regular punishment,” he commented as he rubbed the brush against her skin.

“What? No!” She jerked up, almost able to get away from him. With one hard yank, he had her over his lap once again, one leg folded over hers as he continued her punishment.

“You do that again and we’ll move onto the belt.” He proceeded to smack her several times.

“What?” Groaning, she slapped her hands against the floor, taking several deep breaths as the pain turned into blinding anguish. The man knew what he was doing. Every concept of shame and humiliation thwarted her senses even as a fire ignited deep within her. She could tell he was aroused, his throbbing cock pressing against her belly and she was hot and wet, terrified of her reactions to him. This wasn’t right. How could she be turned on when he was giving her a fierce spanking?

He rubbed her bottom, taking his time caressing in such a gentle manner. “You’re doing very well, which surprises the hell out of me.”

“You’re still an asshole!”

Her retort brought another very harsh wave of solid smacks, the thudding sound mixing with her wails, no matter how hard she tried to keep them from exiting her mouth. She was shaking, her mind in the gutter, envisioning his cock sliding in and out of her pussy.

Even her ass.

No. No! She couldn’t think this way. This was crazy. Already exhausted, she hung her head, unable to fight any longer.

Yet the round of punishment continued, the brush hitting her upper thighs and buttocks over and over again. The man was on a mission, determined to provide his own brand of justice. She’d never been this turned on, her nipples aching, longing for him to pluck and twist. Mortified at her thoughts, she tried to think of anything else.

Violent crimes.

Drug rings.

Anything.

Nothing worked. All she could think about was his twinkling eyes and the way his cock continued to swell. When she heard him drop the brush, she almost lurched off his lap, but he was determined to have control.

Over her discipline.

And over her body.

Fisting her hair, he yanked her into his lap, his breathing ragged. “Now, I take exactly everything that I want.”

“And what’s that, lover boy?”

“You. Every. Single. Inch.”

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