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Pain and pleasure warred inside my tiny sensitive bud. It throbbed as though it had a heartbeat of its own, swollen and needy between the clothespin’s teeth.
I tried to squirm, but the longer I sat there, the worse it all began to feel. I stared at the necklace and back to the door.
The building ache was terrible, but it was the overwhelming arousal that came with it that was truly humbling. I couldn’t keep still.
He’d left my bullet on the desk. Fuck. I wanted to come so badly.
I could stand up right now and wobble over to the desk, but my hands were still cuffed behind my back.
All I could do was sit there in my aroused misery, listening to the soft rumble of voices outside the door. I wondered if they knew what I’d done with the money or if they knew the name of my client and I closed my eyes.
He went by an alibi online, but I’d done some digging myself and discovered his true identity. His name was Sergei Reznikov, and he was a big-time arms dealer that was rumored to be associated with the Russian Bratva. I hadn’t dealt with him directly, delivering the diamonds straight into a safety deposit box. He’d transferred payment into my offshore account once he confirmed authenticity of the massive diamond haul, and I’d gone on vacation at one of the ritziest hotels in the city.
Now I was naked with clothespins on my nipples and pussy, with an enormous plug in my freshly belted ass.
I closed my eyes.
It was a rise and fall of epic proportions. I’d felt so on top of the world in that expensive hotel room and now I felt like nothing more than a bad little girl that had just gotten punished by her daddy.
It was at that moment that the door swung back open, and Jon sauntered into the room. His gaze leveled with mine for the briefest of seconds before dragging up and down my sore body. I trembled a little at his heated gaze, shifting slightly as my clit pulsed hard with my own desire.
I released a shaky breath and the corner of his lips lifted. With a growing smirk, he watched me squirm. I’m not sure what spurred me to glance down, but I caught sight of the enormous bulge of his cock fully encased within his slacks.
He was hard and he didn’t care the slightest bit that I saw it.
I whined softly at the sight.
I was almost dizzy with need. My body was so achy and sensitive that I couldn’t make heads or tails of if I was in pain or just delirious with arousal.
I tried to tell myself it was just the former and definitely not the latter.
“Are you ready to tell me the truth, little girl?”
I quivered at the intention in his voice. I opened my mouth and the door opened again. His men filed in, lining up against the wall in silence with all their eyes directed on me. It was unnerving, embarrassing, and my clit throbbed with aching desire as if to spite me.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered softly.
He grasped the necklace off the table, kneeling before me and clasping it around my neck. He centered the pendant, pressing it gently against my skin.
“This color is becoming on you,” he observed. When he stood up, he towered over me. The dichotomy between us made me tremble and I licked my lips. His presence consumed me. I took a deep breath, the understated scent of his cologne driving me wild with desire. It was spiced, with hints of ginger, nutmeg, and orange along with the smokiness of an oak barrel-aged bourbon.
He smelled like a man and I couldn’t help but breathe it in again.
“Thank you,” I replied. I looked up to see him peering down at me for a long moment before he returned to his chair. He was still directly in front of me, but his scent no longer surrounded me, and the heady feeling of his nearness was lessened, but only by a little.
He crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap, waiting for me to begin.
“I didn’t know it was a safehouse, at not least until I got inside,” I started. “My phone is in my backpack. Check the front pocket.”
Jon gestured to his men and one of them carried my bag over to him. He slowly unzipped it and reached inside it. He pulled out my smartphone and he glanced up at me.
“I swear that I didn’t know anything about the house belonging to the Montagna family. I researched before I went in, and the deed indicated that it was owned by a rich family that went by the name Jones. I broke in just thinking they were away on vacation. That’s all. You’ll find all my notes in a folder I keep on there,” I explained, pointing to the phone with my chin.
He glanced down at it and slid his finger across the surface.
“Passcode?”
“Zero, seven, six, five,” I answered. I chewed my lip, watching as he tapped the screen. For a few minutes, he was quiet as he searched through it. I knew what he’d find inside it. I’d taken pictures of the blueprints. I’d saved satellite images of the property, along with everything I could find about its history. There would be pictures I took myself of the mansion and of possible entry points when I’d scouted the place out more than a week ago. Eventually, he put my phone aside and leveled me with a stern glare.
