“It’s okay, Nan. I called these men. They’re going to help us.”
I look at Nan as she looks at each of the men. A moment later, she whispers something to Emilia. When Emilia turns to me, it’s with fisted hands and rage in her eyes.
“It was you?”
“What?” I play dumb.
“The men who were here earlier, it was your men?”
I give her a wide grin, take my eyes off her for a second to holster my weapon and next thing I know, she’s coming at me, arm raised. I’m ready when the flat of her hand collides with my face.
There’s a gasp from behind her. It’s the old woman.
The sting of the slap is nothing like the heat of rage that burns through me.
I narrow my eyes, and Emilia steps back. I see her throat work as she swallows. She hesitated at the last moment, so it wasn’t a hard slap, but it was still a slap and she’ll need to be dealt with. I take the wrist of the offending arm and twist it. “You’ll pay for that later.”
There’s a flicker of apprehension in her eyes, but she doesn’t retort. That’s good. Best to handle this in private.
“I called you to help me, and you knew all along?”
“I tried to tell you. Remember my mention of your friend, Diaz, at dinner?”
“He’s not my friend.”
“You weren’t interested in hearing.”
“Wait, he told you about my father? He knew?” Her face goes white. She’s just understood what this means.
I shift my grip so I have both of her wrists in one hand and turn to one of my men. “I had a message that the house was secured earlier. How many are staying the night?”
“Yes, sir,” the man says. “House is secure, has been all day, and we have four men on property.”
“Good. Let’s get the old man moved tomorrow. I’ll make arrangements and send the location in the morning.”
“What?” Emilia is asking.
I turn to her. “Nan, is it?” I ask, gesturing to the old woman. “Nan, I’m Giovanni Santa Maria. My men will be on site tonight. I don’t expect trouble, but if there is, they’ll keep you and Mr. Estrella safe. I’m taking Emilia with me.”
“Wait, no. I’m not going anywhere.”
“If you need to contact her, ask one of my men,” I say, ignoring Emilia’s tugging.
The old woman looks at Emilia then at me and says something in Spanish.
Before Emilia can answer, I do, in Spanish. The language is close to Italian and one I studied growing up. I tell her to do as she’s told and that everything and everyone will be fine if she does. I also add in that I’m not going to let anything happen to Emilia. At this, she gives me a nod, comes down the stairs toward Emilia, wraps her arms around her, and whispers for her not to fight me. She then turns and goes back up the stairs.
“What are you doing?” Emilia asks.
“I’m helping you like you asked me to.” I begin to walk us toward the door, but she’s resisting.
“But this isn’t what I asked for.”
“The moment you asked for my help, you gave up control of the situation to me. I make the terms, you simply accept them. That’s how it works.”
“No, that’s not—”
“Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“To bed. I’m tired.”
“I don’t want to leave them.”
I turn to her, take her by the shoulders. “They’re safe, Emilia. I promise to keep them safe.”
“Wait, what did you mean about Diaz? What did he know about my father?”
“He was one of the men hired to assassinate him originally. I guess your brother figured out your father was still alive and considered the job not yet done, so Diaz was coming after him. He had the address in his pocket. That’s how I found the house. I’ve had it under surveillance all day, expecting Alessandro. Hoping he’d turn up. Imagine my surprise when I got you instead.”
“My brother.”
I lean down close to her. “You do as you’re told, and I promise I will not let him hurt you or them, understand?”
“But what about you? You hate my father. You hate the cartel.”
“I guess you’re going to have to trust me. Now let’s go. We’ve still got some matters to resolve between us.”
Her eyes search mine. She knows I’m talking about that slap. She doesn’t fight me when I take her out to the car. She’s lost in her thoughts, and I’m busy confirming arrangements, so we don’t talk on the drive home. We get to the house and enter through the kitchen. I put my phone away.
“Go upstairs to my room and wait for me there. You remember which one it is?”
“Can we just get this over with?”
“Get what over with?”
“You know what.”
I raise my eyebrows. Her back is to the counter.
“Do you want to slap me back or something?”
I take a step to her, and she scoots around me. I smile, stalk toward her.
“Don’t test me. Do as you’re told.”
She stands defiant. “Just do it. If that’s what you’re going to do.”
I study her. She’s got her arms folded across her chest, and her head is tilted to the side. Her chin is set in a stubborn and, quite frankly, stupid, challenge.
Whatever she sees in my eyes, though, makes her falter. When I take one more step, she takes another one back.
“I don’t slap women, Emilia, but I do have a special punishment in mind for you. Now go upstairs, and wait for me there. Make sure you’re naked. It’ll save us time.”
She swallows, and I see her cheeks flush, but I also see her need to stand her ground.
To defy me.
“No.”
“Emilia.” I take one final step and when she matches it, her back hits the wall so she has to crane her neck to look up at me. Her face is flushed, and the rapid rise and fall of her chest belies her anxiety. I reach out, push a stray hair back from her face, and touch her cheek with the back of my hand. I’m gentle, and she’s soft. So fucking soft. My gaze holds hers as I run my hand down over her jaw, her delicate, vulnerable throat, lightly touching her collarbone before sliding it to the back of her neck, cupping the back of her head.
Her pupils are dilating, her eyes darker but for the thin ring of green. She licks her lips. Although I’m sure it’s involuntary, sure she’s not aware how she looks. How she’s looking at me. I wonder if she has any idea how much her body is giving away.
“You don’t listen very well,” I whisper, leaning in closer so I can smell her, feel the warmth of her skin on mine. Feel that charge, that almost electrical spark when we touch. “But I like bad girls.” I grip her tight ponytail, see her wince as I tug her head backward. I hold her like that, watching her face, watching the tear at the corner of one eye. Waiting for it to fall. Squeezing harder until it does. Until I’m satisfied.
I open my mouth and lick that tear. Taste the salty droplet as she gasps in surprise, and my dick’s hard.
I bring my mouth to hers, touch my lips to hers, inhale before kissing her. She makes a sound—a surprised gasp—and I deepen the kiss, let my tongue slide between her full lips to lick hers, to taste her. Her eyes close but I’m still watching her. I tug on her hair and tilt her head farther and kiss her deeper and fuck, I want her. I want to fuck her right here.
But she needs to be punished first.
A low growl leaves my chest, and I break the kiss. Her eyes flutter open, pupils fully dilated so they look almost black. I grin, rub the scruff of my jaw against her arrogant cheekbone, inhale close to her ear so she hears me.
“You’re turned on.”
She opens her mouth to deny it, but I continue. She’s perfectly still. I’m sure she’s holding her breath.
I like it. Like her like this. Like being this close to her. Fuck, I like her scared and defiant and at my mercy. It makes me fucking hard.
It’s sick, I know, but as much as pain gets her
off, this is what gets me off.
“I see it. And I smell it.”
“You’re wrong,” she says, but her voice is a whisper. “Let me go.”
“You don’t want me to let you go.”
“I do.”
“You like the idea of me punishing you?”
“Let me go,” she repeats, her voice wavering. I feel her small hands on my chest, trying, but failing, to put space between us.
“You like it? Your dirty mind imagining what I’ll do?” I squeeze my fist tighter, tugging on her hair until she lets out a small cry. “If I’ll fuck your ass again. Hurt you but make you come so hard you pass out?”
“Stop it.”
“I’ll tell you a secret,” I say, taking my time, breathing in her fear, her arousal. “We’re two peas in a pod, you and me.” She makes a sound, and I press against her. “See, hurting you gets me off.”
Her hands are on my chest, and she shoves against me. “You’re sick.”
“If I’m sick, what are you?” I ask, looking down at her.
“Stop it.”
“No need to hide it. No need to be ashamed of it, not with me,” I say, pressing my erection against her belly. She whines, but when I slide one hand between her legs and rub her sex, that whine turns into a low moan of desire.
I realize I’ve still got a fistful of her hair when more tears fall from her eyes. I feel them on my cheek and pull back, look down at her. She can’t hold my gaze.
“Am I right? Are you turned on thinking about what I’m going to do to you?”
“Stop.”
“I’ll tell you what. I won’t keep you in suspense any longer,” I say, using her hair to turn her around so her back is to me and the side of her cheek is to the wall. Keeping her like that, I slap her ass, making her jump, then dig my fingers into the fleshy mound.
“I’m going to spank that sweet ass of yours, but it won’t be the erotic kind.”
I let go of her ponytail and step back. The instant I do, she does exactly what I know she will. She runs. And I smile. Because the chase is on. And I do love the chase.
“Come back here and take your punishment, Emilia,” I say, stalking after her.
“Stay away from me!” She’s in the living room, standing on the opposite end of the sofa.
“Here,” I say, pointing to the arm of the couch. “Now.”
Her eyes slide to where I’m pointing. She shakes her head.
“Come over here. Come take your punishment.”
“No. You’re a freak!”
“You like it, admit it. Besides, you earned this one, and I’m losing my patience. I won’t ask again. If I have to make you take it, I may not let you come afterwards.”
“I only hit you because you lied.”
“I didn’t lie. I tried to tell you, in fact. You’re just too stubborn to listen.”
“That’s not true.”
I point to the couch again, and she shakes her head.
“Please don’t. I’ll go upstairs, like you said.”
“Too late for that, Sunshine.” And while she stands there hesitating, I close the distance between us and take hold of her before she can run. She lets out a scream as I push her over the arm of the sofa so her face is in the cushions and her ass is high. I draw her running shorts and panties down to expose that perfect little ass.
“Ready?”
“No!”
But I start anyway, spanking her ass with my bare hand, watching her pretty, unmarked flesh turn pink, then red. I spank her hard. I concentrate on one spot until she’s wriggling before moving to another spot. It’s a hand spanking, but it’s still painful. I could do worse, but I won’t use my belt on her. Not after I’ve seen her back.
She meets each spank with a cry. After this, she’ll know not to raise a hand to me again.
“Please stop! It’s enough.”
“Is it?” I ask, smacking the crease between ass and thigh.
She nods. “I’m sorry. Please stop. Please. I really am sorry.”
I pause. Wait.
“I’m sorry I hit you.” I look down at her. Her cheek is resting on the cushion. Her eyes are open, but she’s looking straight ahead, not at me. She’s out of breath, and sweat covers her forehead. “I didn’t want to hit you.”
“Why did you?”
She shakes her head, closes her eyes. “I don’t know. You just…you make me feel so out of control.”
“Maybe you need to learn to let it go. Give it up to me.”
I cup her ass. She sucks in a breath, but I knead it. Her skin is hot, and my dick is so fucking hard, I’m going to blow. When I draw her apart, I see how slick she is and grin. She doesn’t know yet that her punishment has only just begun.
I help her stand, and she gasps when I toss her over my shoulder and carry her upstairs to my bedroom, where I drop her on my bed and climb on top of her as I pull first her sport top off, then my own shirt, popping buttons in my haste, sending them flying across the room.
Her hands are around my neck. I kiss her and cup her ass, swallowing that hiss of pain when I do. I pull her to the edge of the bed, slide to my knees between her legs, and wrap my arms around the backs of her knees, drawing her to me, drawing her pussy to my mouth because I need to taste her. To eat her up. Devour her whole.
She’s writhing and moaning as I suck her clit and finger her pussy, her ass, but I’m not ready to let her come yet. She didn’t do as she was told, and she won’t be coming tonight at all, in fact.
I pull back, wipe the back of my arm over my mouth as I stand, undo my jeans, and push them off. She’s up on her elbows watching me, her legs spread wide, her hungry cunt glistening, waiting impatiently to be fucked.
I reach for her hair, which has come out of its ponytail, so I can grip a handful of that thick mass. I drag her to her knees and bring her mouth to my cock. She opens because she’s fucking greedy, and I decide to fuck her face, her pretty face, make her choke on my cock because her tears, they only make me harder.
She’s got her arms wrapped around my thighs and is gasping for breath, but I don’t let up.
“Look up. At me. I want to watch you swallow my cum.”
She does. She turns those serpentine eyes up to mine and fuck she’s beautiful even with tears streaming down her face, her mouth full of my cock, her tongue wet and hot, her fingernails digging into me when I push too deep, cut off her windpipe. A moment later, I’m all the way in and I throb and I come hard. I fill her up, and she’s swallowing what I’m giving her. I feel her throat working and fuck, I like fucking her face.
When I pull her off, she gasps for breath as I draw her to stand by her hair and kiss her dirty little mouth, swallow the cum she couldn’t, one hand cupping her sweet, punished ass, fingers digging into it as she moans into my mouth, trying to wrap her leg around me like her arms are around my shoulders. Wanting to come.
I draw back, give her a wicked grin.
“Punishment isn’t over, Sunshine.” I push her onto the bed. She bounces once before I catch her wrists and, taking a pair of restraints from the nightstand drawer, I lay her back and bind them together over her head.
“What are you doing?”
I take two more cuffs and walk to the foot of the bed to grab one of her ankles. I bind it to one corner then move to the other side and pull her legs wide before binding her other ankle to the other side.
“Making sure you don’t get yourself off while I have a shower.”
11
Emilia
He takes his time in the shower. He’s humming some tune in there. I hear that too. Happy as can be. Not a fucking care in the world while I lie here, arms bound over my head, legs spread wide, my ass throbbing from that spanking and the need to come overwhelming.
“I hate you,” I call out just as the water switches off.
He appears a moment later, a towel wrapped low around his hips, another in his hand as he rubs his hair dry. My eyes wander over those perfectly cut abs
to the trail of hair that disappears beneath the towel. I want him and hate myself for the groan that escapes when I can’t close my legs, can’t rub them together.
“What’s that?” he asks with that smirk I hate so much.
“I said I hate you.”
He drops the towel he was drying his hair with so his hair is standing up all around his head. He still looks so fucking perfect, it’s killing me. He walks over to me, eyes roaming from my face to my sex and back.
“I don’t think your pussy hates me,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning down to lick my clit.
I whimper and arch my back for more.
But he draws back, puts his fingers into my folds, and smears them over my thigh, leaving a wet trail of hungry, unfulfilled arousal.
“Next time I tell you to bend over and take your punishment, maybe you’ll do as you’re told.”
I tug at my bonds as he stands, drops his towel, and climbs on the bed so his knees are in between my legs. He lays himself on top of me, taking care that some of his weight is on his elbows. He’s hard again. I feel him at my belly.
He’s grinning and watching me, and I hate that he sees how much I want this. How much I want him. How much I want to come.
“I like fucking your face.” He licks my lips as he situates himself. Slowly, he slides into me, my opening slick, gaping for him.
I let out a long moan as he stretches me. He kisses the side of my face, my temple.
“I like fucking your pussy too.” He’s moving slowly, savoring my humiliation, savoring his pleasure. “And your ass. Fuck, Emilia, your ass is so tight, and you come so fucking hard when I fuck it.”
“I hate you.”
“Nah, you don’t hate me. You want me.”
I snap my teeth at him, trying to bite him, but he draws back just far enough to be out of reach.
“I’d have put you on your belly to have access to both holes, but I couldn’t trust you not to rub yourself to orgasm on my sheets.”
“You already punished me. Why are you doing this?”
I feel him thickening inside me. He’s going to come again, and he’s going to leave me wanting. Again.
Giovanni Page 10
