by SR Jones
Two hours later and I’m tired and a bit bored. I don’t think Justina has ever met a handbag she didn’t love, and I have two new ones. I also have three bags with clothes in them, and a pair of boots. The boots, I have to admit, are wicked. Ankle boots like my old ones, but biker style with buckles. I like them a lot.
My back aches, and I’m relieved when Justina says we best be heading back because she needs to go to the city. I frown though; she hasn’t bought anything for herself. “Don’t you want a little longer? After all, you haven’t bought anything.”
She laughs. “But I have. Doesn’t matter to me if I’m buying for me, you, or Andrius. I simply love to shop.” Her face turns serious. “I love supermarket shopping, Violet. I spent so long locked up, no money of my own, no freedom. I wore what I was given, ate what was put in front of me, fucked who I was told to. Now? Now, I’m free, and there’s something about doing this; going to the shops and buying things makes me truly feel it.”
We walk along the sidewalk past an array of shops toward the car as she continues talking. “I have my own money, but Andrius is always giving me his card to splurge on. I put most of my regular wages away, into savings. I’ve got a nice nest egg, in case I ever need it. In case anything happens to him, which I can’t bear the thought of. To be honest, I don’t think it matters how much of a security nest I have if he was hurt. It wouldn’t matter because I don’t think I’d cope without him. He says I can’t think like that. In reality, though, he’s my security blanket.”
Something strikes me then. “Why do you keep pushing us together? Don’t you worry if he did fall for me, it’d push you out?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m like his sister, so no, I don’t think it would. And his house is fucking massive. You’ve not seen it yet, but as well as the main house, there’s a stable block and an outbuilding that’s converted into a two-bedroom cottage. If he ever fell in love and wanted privacy, I’d simply move into there. It’s lovely, and I’d be happy there. Anyway, don’t you think I’ve already thought about this. Maybe there’s a reason I’m pushing him toward you.”
“What?”
She pauses and looks me right in the eye. “Because, you’re a nice person, Violet. You won’t make him kick me out; some other woman, I might not be so lucky.”
So, there’s a selfishness to her actions after all. Not in a bad way, but it makes me smile a little. She’s right too: I would never make Andrius kick her out, but another woman might. Or might try.
I see a craft shop a few doors up from where we’re parked and grab Justina’s arm. “Can we go in there?”
She looks at the shop, back to me, and bursts out laughing, “Do you know, this is the first time I’ve seen you excited since we got here. All these designer goodies and it’s the idea of a crochet set that’s gotten you all worked up.”
“Not crochet sets, if they’re even a thing,” I tell her. “I want paper and pencils. I want to draw.”
I’m dying to draw Andrius, and itching to sketch the house too.
“Okay.”
We go and buy my art supplies, and then we head back. Justina drops me off, goes to say a few words to Andrius, and then she’s off.
I retire to my room with a sandwich and settle down to do some sketching. After a couple hours, my arm is aching, so I take a nap, which turns into a long sleep. When I awake, there’s still no sign of Andrius, so I go and make myself a coffee, and get back to my sketching.
I get lost in it. Lost in him. I’m drawing him from memory, and not as he usually looks—stern, scary, steely cold eyes. I’m drawing him the way he looked at me when his face and eyes softened. My phone, the one he gave me, buzzes, and I pick it up.
There’s a text from him.
You were due in the library ten minutes ago. I expect you in five. Wear a skirt.
My mouth runs dry. Holy hell, I don’t know if I can do this. I want to, but I’m scared. Why do I want such a thing? What does it say about me? And why did I let him see my reaction to his threat back when I worked in the restaurant. If I’d shot him a disdainful, disgusted glance, he’d never have known it was something I craved.
On shaky legs, I cross the room, put on a skirt, and exit my bedroom. I reach the library door and knock.
“Come in,” Andrius’ deep voice reaches me through the thick, ornate wood.
I enter the room, and there’s a fire burning in the hearth; the second time I’ve seen one lit in this house, and it makes the room more stunning. The wood gives a warm glow from the light of the flames, and sat by the fire, his face in devilish profile, is Andrius.
Closing the door behind me, I stand hands twisted together, not sure what to do.
He gets up and crosses the room. “Nice skirt, good girl.” He smooths his hand down my side as if he’s soothing a skittish horse.
“What do you want me to do? Lean over the desk or something?”
“No, come here.” He returns to the big, overstuffed chairs near the fire and sits.
“Come lay over my knee.”
Oh, God. How mortifying. My arse will be in the air; I’ll be unbalanced.
“Violet,” he warns when I don’t move.
Licking my lips, I walk to him, and he pulls me over his knee in one fluid move. His legs are spread, and he’s big and broad enough to hold most of my weight. For a moment, my arms wave as I try to find somewhere for them, but then they’re gathered up in his hand and pulled behind my back.
“Keep still, zaika. You’re like a wriggly worm.”
I try to keep still and do as he says. My arms are held behind my back, my torso balanced on his strong thighs, and my legs are in the air behind me, not reaching the ground the way he has me angled.
I want to know what zaika means, but before I can gather my senses to ask, his other hand sweeps my skirt up, exposing my bottom to the air. The only thing protecting me is the thin cotton of my panties.
“I want you to keep count while I do this, okay?” His hand smooths over the cotton and down my thigh, before coming back to rest on my backside.
“Yes,” I say.
“Good.”
His hand lifts before coming down with enough force to make me cry out. God above, he said gentle. I squirm in indignation and am about to protest when I remember I ought to be counting. If I don’t, he’ll probably add more.
“One,” I say. “But you said g—”
Another smack hits my behind, this one on the other cheek. It’s sharp but not as hard as the first one, and I count two out loud.
By the time I’ve counted six, my backside is burning, but something else is on fire too. I’m wet, probably soaked. In this position, I’m so helpless, and he’s in total control of me. Now I’ve got used to it, the smacks aren’t hurting as badly as I’d first thought. Each dull thwack generates a sharp pain quickly followed by a burning sensation, which isn’t entirely unpleasant.
When I shout out the last stroke, on a ragged ten, he pulls my panties up into a bunch and lets go of my wrists, and I put my hands on the floor to balance myself.
“Nice and pink,” he says. “One day, I’ll turn it properly red.”
The cool air on my heated flesh has me squirming a little, desperate for relief. He rakes his blunt nails down one ass cheek, and I cry out.
“Oh, my God.”
He repeats the process on the other, the sensation almost too much to bear. I hope he’s going to give me relief soon. From the ache in my groin. Pleasure me like he did last night.
Instead, he stands and lifts me with him before placing me on the floor.
“Are you sorry you made me look like a fool?” he asks.
I nod.
“Show me how sorry.”
I thought I had with the spanking. But he’s stood in front of me undoing his belt. Oh, God, is he going to hit me with it? I don’t want that. I’ll fight back if he tries it, I swear. But then he’s undoing his zip too. “Kneel.”
He pulls himself out, and I m
oan as I kneel before him. It comes out of me unbidden, an almost animalistic sound. I’ve not seen him like this, close up, so near I can smell his musky scent. My mouth waters.
He’s perfect. Thick and long, with a vein running up the right-hand side. He’s also as turned on as me because he’s slick at the head, and as I stare at him in fascination, a drop of clear dewy liquid forms and runs down his length.
He groans, “Fuck, Violet, I bet I could come from you looking at me like this. Like you want to eat me up. Do you want to taste?”
He taps my cheek with his dick, and I should be incensed, but I do want to taste. I’m pretty sure I’m as bad at this as I am at the other sex stuff, but I want him in my mouth.
I nod, and he roughly grabs a handful of my hair, tipping my head back. “Open wide, zaika.”
My mouth opens as if of its own accord, and he pushes inside. He’s not harsh though; he’s gentle as he pushes to the back of my mouth, and when I gag a little on him, he withdraws.
“Sorry,” I say, and feel stupid tears hit my eyes. “I’m not good at any of this.”
“Those lips of yours around my cock is the hottest thing I’ve seen,” he says. “Don’t worry; turn your mind off and simply feel.”
I lean in and take him in my mouth again. His taste is sharp and clean. I make sure my teeth are covered as I suck and swirl my tongue around him. He’s big, and it makes it hard to get much of his length in, so I use my hand as well, but he shakes his head and pulls my hand away. Then using my hair to hold me in place, he fucks my mouth. At first, I panic, but he doesn’t push in hard enough to hurt or make me gag. When he does hit the back of my throat, he withdraws before pushing back in again. Soon, I’m lost in the rhythm of it, and despite this being something for him, it’s turning me on too. Being so at his mercy, kneeling before him, is hot in the same way as the spanking was hot.
“Baby,” he groans, and then he pulls out, holds himself and starts to come, ordering, “Keep your mouth open.”
I do as ordered, while he paints my tongue and lips in his salty release. There’s a lot of it, so I’m glad he didn’t shoot down my throat this first time.
I’m pulled to my feet, and he slips his hand inside my damp panties. “Do you need relief, zaika?” he asks me.
Again, the bite of shame hits, but once more accompanied by a thrill of arousal.
“So wet here, so slippery.” His fingers part my folds, and he rubs my clit, pinching it a couple of times and then soothing it with gentle strokes.
When he pushes two thick fingers into me, I gasp and grab hold of his arm, holding onto him, the material of his top rough under my skin. His fingers work me inside, and his thumb works me outside, and before long my legs are shaking like crazy. When I come, he snakes his other arm around my middle, holding me up.
How can he know my body so well? Better than I do. Certainly, way better than any other man I’ve messed around with. I could get addicted to this, think I already am, truth be told.
He adjusts my panties to cover me and puts himself away.
“So is my punishment over?” I ask.
“Yes. It looked like you hated every moment of it,” he says with a twitch of his beautiful mouth.
God, I love his face. Could stare at him for hours.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” I ask him.
“Sure,” he says, easy and languid now he’s come. “We’ll go watch one in the den.”
It’s surreal yet again. He makes popcorn, and we sit and watch a movie. Snuggling on the sofa, with the hitman. As you do.
By the time Justina comes home, I’m sleepy ,despite it being early, and head to bed. As I open the door to my room, a hand comes around my middle. “Invite me in.”
And I do.
Chapter 15
Andrius
The next few days are wonderful, but my paranoia builds. The better things get with Violet, the more I worry about who she is and why Allyov did the crazy fucking thing he did.
She’s amazing, almost too perfect though. As if someone found my ideal woman and gave her to me. An ideal, I didn’t know I wanted. The fact makes me suspicious. I’m obsessed with her in a way I’ve never been with any other woman before. I want to be touching her all the time. Holding her close. I fuck her and as soon as we’re done, I want her all over again.
All the things she thinks make her less attractive, only serve to make her more appealing to me. Her lack of experience. Her uncertainty. The way she dresses. I don’t give a shit if she doesn’t wear sexy clothes; I like her style. The stuff she got when she went out with Justina seems a little bit hippy chick, and it suits her. Her petite frame looked sexy as fuck in the white sundress she wore yesterday.
Today, she and Justina are going for massages, and I’m going to get the house fitted with cameras because there will be a time when I must leave her alone, and frankly I want to be able to see she’s safe. I won’t put one in her bedroom, I’m not that far gone, but the hallway outside is fair game. As are the other public rooms, and because my paranoia is building in general, I’m going to get them fitted in my study too.
The outside of the house has top notch security. Cameras at the gates, along the drive, and outside the front and back doors. I have private security drones if I need to use them, they cost a fucking ton of money. The whole of the property is surrounded by high electric fences. None of which would stop someone of Allyov’s ilk if he really wanted to get to me. I don’t know why I’m getting so paranoid about the man who claims he wants me as his brother, but I am.
I hear a squeal from outside and a splash. The girls are by the pool as today has been hot. I go to the window, look out and smile as I see Violet splashing water at Justina. She’s looking good, her skin has a healthier glow than when she was working all the time and living in the city. I want to keep her here, keep her happy and glowing. I want to keep her here so I can fuck her whenever I want.
Allyov said when I got bored of her, he’d deal with her. I can’t see me ever getting bored of her. I’ve never wanted a woman with the same ferocious desire.
Still, watching the women, I take the burner phone out of my pocket and dial the secure number.
“Yeah,” Reece answers after only one ring.
“Hello there. Did you find anything?”
He knows what I’m talking about, and I hear a sigh.
“Nothing conclusive yet, but your instincts may be correct. Her identity is probably fake.”
His words stab me like a knife to the gut. Shit. No.
She is climbing out of the pool now, her skin wet and tempting.
He goes on to clarify this doesn’t mean she’s working for Allyov. Half the time when we talk on the phone we converse in a stupid semi-code, and now is no different. He’s referring to how her background doesn’t point to her being a professional working for my friend. Translation, she’s not who she says she is, but it isn’t looking like she’s a whore working for Allyov.
He then goes on to tell me stuff I already know. That she worked in his restaurants, or rather only one of them, but the staff sign a contract to say they will cover at others if needed. She worked the Gilded Club party, again known to me.
Then he says something to make me sit up and take note.
“Listen. Don’t do anything yet, okay? Let me do some more digging. The thing is, Andrius, her identity, all her records, everything, only starts at age ten, so my feeling is she’s possibly on the run from a threat or danger. The birth certificate is almost certainly a forgery.”
It ties in with my thoughts when I saw her patchy education records.
He goes on to warn me to be alert, which doesn’t need fucking saying. I spend my life on high alert.
My mind is turning over what he’s found. If she’s in danger, does Allyov know? Did he place her with me to protect her? Or to make me a target? What does she know? We are going to have to talk. Shit.
The conversation doesn’t end there. Reece asks me, again in coded
language, to sort out the issue of the stalker his girlfriend had. A man who is now awaiting a psych eval before a likely move to a high-security prison. I tell him it’s doubtful the man is safe, which is code for, he definitely isn’t safe because I will take him out of the equation—for Reece.
I hang up the phone and watch Violet, a mix of emotions whirling within me. If she’s working for Allyov, what will I do? I don’t think it will change the way I’m feeling about her. Possessive, dominant. Like she’s mine and nothing can change that. If she’s in trouble, I can help her. I will help her.
I resolve that tomorrow, we’ll talk. I’ve also got Alesso looking into her because his friend Damen used to be a spy and can find out almost anything. I’ll call them too.
Tonight, I’m going to fuck her and love her so hard, and then tomorrow, I’ll fuck it all up by telling her I’ve had a friend investigate her past. At least then she’ll hopefully be truthful with me.
When she heads out for the massage with Justina, I get the guys in to set up the new cameras. I want to be able to see what goes on here when I’m back in the city.
“None in the bedrooms,” I tell them. “But the hallways outside the rooms are fair game. I want one in the library and one outside and inside my study. One in the kitchen too.”
Luckily there are plenty of light fittings and paintings on the walls for cameras to be hidden easily.
“What about listening devices?”
I stop and consider. She might talk to Justina. Be more likely to come clean with her. I could ask Justina to try to get Violet to tell her where she’s really from. They’d be most likely to talk in the kitchen, or maybe the den or the library. Should I listen in? It feels like a massive betrayal of Justina, and I know she’ll see it as such, but fuck it; this is both of our lives on the line here if Violet is harboring dangerous secrets.
“Yeah, library, kitchen, and the den.” Fuck, I hate myself. That leaves the bedrooms and my study free for me to talk freely.
“Okay, boss.”
