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“Sitting comfortably will be nothing more than a fond memory by the time I’m finished with you, little girl.”
“Did you really think you could sneak out and I wouldn’t notice, sweetheart? Or maybe I haven’t been harsh enough with you. Maybe my naughty little girl needs a heavier hand, hmm?”
The last was said as he helped me into the car, and I could swear I was soaking straight through my panties. Despite knowing I was in for perhaps the worst punishment of my life, my body was reacting to every whispered threat as if it was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.
And in a way, I suppose it was. I’d always had a weakness for men who took control with no apologies. As much as I enjoyed our play, punishments held a special place in my heart, and I knew by the end of the night I would be his in a way I had yet to fully allow myself to be.
“Spread your thighs.” The barked order snapped me out of my thoughts, and I complied without hesitation, spreading my legs as much as the confines of the car would allow.
With one hand on the steering wheel guiding us back to the apartment, Cole used the other to begin my punishment. Short, sharp, stinging swats to the insides of my thighs that had me crying out and fighting the urge to squeeze my legs shut. Such an action might allow me a brief reprieve, but there was no doubt in my mind I would pay for it once we arrived home.
The punishment was delivered in silence on his part, with nothing but the sound of skin slapping against skin and my occasional cries filling the car. By the time we parked in front of his building, the insides of both thighs were pink and sore to the touch from his chastisement.
But as I discovered when he helped me out of the car and we made our way into the building, the real punishment was the friction between my thighs with each step we took. A whimper of relief escaped when we stepped into the elevator, and I was allowed a moment of rest.
Or so I thought. As soon as the doors closed, Cole was on me, his hands under my skirt, gripping my ass and hauling me up so I was forced to wrap my legs around his waist. Still without speaking a word, my panties were shoved to the side, and he was inside of me, pinning me to the wall with each short, powerful thrust.
The orgasm ripped through me, surprising me as much as the sudden invasion had. Clinging to him, I rode out the wave of shocking pleasure while he fucked me.
“You are mine, Adele. Mine. I. Will. Not. Lose. You.”
We arrived at our floor with a ding from the elevator just as he finished. Silent once again, he fixed our clothes and slipped an arm around my waist, guiding me out of the elevator and down the hall to his apartment as if nothing had happened. As if I weren’t still reeling from the sudden burst of pleasure with his cum filling my panties.
“Bedroom.” Another barked order the moment we stepped into the apartment. “You can go put your nose in the corner, since you want to act like a naughty child, sneaking out after Daddy told you not to.”
I opened my mouth to argue but honestly, what could I say? As far as he knew, that was exactly what I’d done, and there was no way for me to explain my actions without giving away who I really was. And while Cole obviously felt great affection for Adele the maid, there was no guarantee he would feel the same way about an Interpol agent in his bed.
No, telling him the truth, especially when the fury in his eyes still burned bright and hot was out of the question. With a stiff nod, I hurried to the bedroom, but I didn’t go immediately to the corner. I’d deliberately left the door cracked, just enough to try and listen to any conversations he might be having.
But all I could hear was the low rumble of his voice as he spoke. Goddammit, why did he have to have such a deep voice? Pulling the door open further and saying a quick prayer of thanks to whoever kept the hinges oiled, I crept toward the living room, flattening myself against the wall as I strained to listen.
“He knew I was coming, Mikey. How the fuck should I know? All I know is I got there, and it was like he was waiting for me, and the next thing I know, I’ve got a gun to my head. There’s a goddamned leak somewhere. Find it and plug it.”
A mole in his organization with a direct link to Bianchi? It was plausible, but something about his assumption didn’t seem to fit. There was a bigger picture here, one we were both missing, and if we couldn’t fit the pieces together soon, it might cost us both our lives.
