He groaned, a sound so full of approval. “Now be my good girl and stay still.”
He squeezed my ass again, harder this time, his hand running over me, dipping between my legs and up to the small of my back as my body vibrated with the need for more. More of what? I wasn’t sure. I just needed his hands on me. I smashed my face into the mattress—or my dress; I didn’t know which—as I clenched my fists and moaned when his fingers glided over the fabric stretched taut against my pussy.
“You should see how perfect you look like this. Completely mine and at my mercy. I can feel how wet you are through these,” he groaned, pressing his fingers against my clit, then leaving me trembling as he removed them just as quickly.
Then it came. A hard smack on my ass. The sting of his hand left my back arching and a squeal escaping my lips. The mortification was replaced by shock as my pussy clenched with need in response.
“Did you really think I’d let you wear this dress for anyone else?” he growled, rubbing circles into the sensitive ass cheek he’d just slapped.
My muffled moans echoed around the room as he continued teasing against the seam of my underwear, then grabbed a handful of my ass, digging his fingers into my flesh. I whimpered and shook my head, unsure whether he expected an answer. I could barely give one.
“That I’d let you marry another man?” Another hard smack landed on my other cheek, sending a sharp shock of pleasure straight to my pussy. I cried out, my hips bucking against him, and he held them still. Another slap came just as quickly when I didn’t answer.
“No,” I cried, shaking my head into the bedding.
The moment I’d read his note in the flowers, the shocking reality hit me like a lightning strike. I wouldn’t have gone through with marrying Callum. Partly because of Santino’s threat, but also, more selfishly, because I knew I’d never feel the intense lust and desire that Santino provoked in me with Callum.
“Why not?”
I whimpered as two more smacks came hard and fast; the pain making my mouth fall open. Then he rubbed his hand gently, leaving only pleasure behind.
“Why not, Aria?”
“Because… he wasn’t you.”
He groaned, that rugged, hot sound of approval rippling from his chest as his fingers dipped between my thighs, rubbing softly over my pussy. I squirmed in his lap, panting hard, and his fingers stopped. “Stay still.”
I tried my best, biting my dress when another hard smack came down on my ass.
“Did you want me to come and steal you away, Aria?”
Oh God, oh God. My pussy was pulsing, needing attention, and I couldn’t stop rubbing my thighs together to gain some friction.
“Please,” I whimpered, never needing to come so much in my life.
“Do you like testing me? Being punished by me?” His hands ran up and down the curve of my ass and along the seam of my underwear, teasing at the waistband.
“Yes,” I moaned. God, what was I saying? I liked this? Fuck, I really liked this. And that was just… insanity. All rational, responsible thoughts had just jumped out of the penthouse window.
“Only I get to see you like this. Only me. No one else. You’re mine,” he growled, slipping my underwear down over my ass. The soft fabric felt like sandpaper against my raw skin. The air on my exposed pussy made me whimper, while his words echoed in my mind, igniting a memory of him saying them at the gala while he finger-fucked me on the balcony. How did I keep ending up in positions like this? Christ alive, I needed serious evaluation.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
Oh, was it possible to come from spanking? Why the hell did submission and climbing to the height of intense pleasure and pain feel so good?
Another slap, so close to my pussy yet nowhere near where I needed it, had me crying out, tears leaking from my eyes. It was too much and too intense. My safe word was lodged in my throat. How could I be enjoying this? Letting a man—who stole me from the altar, forced me to marry him by threatening everyone I cared about, and admitted to murder—spank me and I wanted more? When had I become so messed-up?
I wanted to be his rebel, but I also wanted his praise. I wanted to be rewarded. And that outweighed all the logic telling me I should end this. This wasn’t even about punishment. It was about possession. He was proving to me that he owned my body. My pain. My pleasure. He commanded them. And I was letting him. Because… he’d never truly hurt me if I didn’t want him to.
His hand rubbed the sting away again, and I could feel him trembling, pantinghard with every breath, matching mine. “Fuck. You’re dripping down your thighs. La mia bellissima ribelle. You’re doing so well for me.Brava Ragazza.” His fingers slipped through my pussy, drenching them.
I gasped, my thighs quivering on his lap. I wanted to open them, but the belt bit into my skin. Everything felt so sensitive. The slightest touch sent shockwaves of pleasure across my skin.
“Do you know how insane you’ve been making me, Aria? No response to my texts or calls for four fucking days.”
Smack.
I cried out. My skirt was tugged down to my shoulders, the bedroom lights blinding me until he grabbed my jaw and twisted my head to look at him. His eyes. Holy shit. They were dark, stormy, and full of awe. His lips parted, heavy breaths tearing through them as he stared at me.
