Chapter 8

“No! Viktor, don’t you dare!”I fight harder to get up and away from him.

“These yoga pants are in my way.” He peels my leggings over my ass, pushing them down to my knees, and then further still to my ankles. The warm air of the room brushes across my bare cheeks. Of all days to wear a thong.

“Viktor. Do not do this.” I spread my fingers, putting as much of my weight into my palms as I can. I need leverage if I’m going to shove out of his grasp.

“We’re done playing your game, moy sladkiy voin.” His body covers mine again. The fabric of his jeans is rough against my bare skin. His breath blows my hair from my cheek when he brings his mouth to my ear.

“Two cars were stolen within a block of Kraze last night,” he informs me. I stop struggling, focusing on what he’s telling me. Michael Agosti owns almost every lot in that neighborhood.

“What does that have to do with me?” I focus on keeping my voice steady.

“Jimmy spent three years behind bars for auto theft. He’s Michael Agosti’s nephew and you have a past with him.” He readjusts his body, exposing my ass to the air again.

“Tell me what that past is and tell the truth.” He cups my ass; his fingernails dig into the flesh on the underside of my ass cheek.

I close my eyes against the bite of his fingers, against the warm current of arousal that floods my core. Why won’t he leave well enough alone?

“Let me up and I’ll tell you,” I offer. It’s easier to think when there isn’t the threat of a belt dangling over my bare ass.

He brings his hand back and smacks my ass hard. The jolt of it jerks me forward. The table inches across the floor from the impact.

“No.” He grabs my ass again. “Tell me now, moy sladkiy voin. I can use my belt if that will help you.” He drops the leather beast in front of my face on the table. It’s thick and well worn. The leather looks soft and supple. I have no doubt what it can do across my bare ass.

The horrifying truth: I almost want to feel it.

“I hate you, Viktor. I swear I hate you.” I grit my teeth as I make my proclamation. It’s a bold lie. It’s not him I hate, it’s this reaction. This awful need to feel his power over me, to make me fall into him.

“My little liar.” He snatches up the belt.

I scramble; suddenly my brain wakes up to the danger it’s just put me in, but it’s too late.

The leather lashes across my ass. White, hot, blinding pain spirals across my skin. I open my mouth to scream, but no sound registers. Another lash, then another, and finally my voice returns.

“Viktor! No!” I try to get up, to kick out, but the man is a master at keeping me exactly where he wants me. My feet strike nothing but air, and my ass continues to spark beneath his belt.

“Are you ready to be honest, or do you need more convincing?” He gives me a chance to answer to his satisfaction.

I suck in a breath. I can’t have him get involved. Jimmy already thinks that I can get the cash from the Petrov family. If I tell Viktor everything, he’ll step in, and Jimmy will really want more money from me.

“Please. No more.” I slap the table.

I should have left Chicago. I should have run far away from here when Jimmy went away. But I didn’t, and now here I am. In this situation.

His fingertip trails across my ass. “Tell me, moy sladkiy voin, what is your business with the Agosti family? Do you still work for them?”

I shake my head. “No! I don’t work for them. I don’t work for anyone. I do hair and makeup. That’s it!”

“But you worked for them before, is that right?” His fingernail scratches across my flesh, making me rise up to my toes.

I swing my arm back, fumbling around until I grasp his wrist. Yanking as hard as I can, I try to pull his hand away, but he’s stronger.

“Put your hand back on the table.” His voice is so low, so soft, it sends a tremor through me. I think we’ve reached the edge of his patience.

Slowly, I do as he says. He digs his fingernails into my ass, and I groan.

“You don’t understand, Marlena, do you? I’m done playing nice. I want answers.” He pulls his hand away and delivers more lashes to each cheek with the end of the looped belt.

Tears burn beneath my eyelids.

“Fine!” I cry out when another sharp lash crosses the underside of my ass. “I’ll answer you.”

“Good.” He drops the belt onto my back and runs his palm over my hot, aching ass. “What is your history with Jimmy?”

I turn my head, pressing my forehead into the cool surface of the table.

“Yes, I used to work with him. We worked for Michael,” I say. “It was years ago. I don’t work with either of them anymore,” I add.

“What sort of work did you do?” He slides one finger beneath the string of my thong.

“Cars. I helped him steal cars.” I’m vaguely aware of the material of my panties being moved to the side but am sharply aware of his fingertip sliding between my ass cheeks.

“You stole cars?” He moves further down, pushing away my thong as he reaches my sex. My wet sex.

My cheeks burn. He’ll see my body’s reaction. I won’t be able to hide it now.

“Yeah.” I squeeze my thighs together, which only earns me a smack of his hand across my thigh.

“Open your legs for me, moy sladkiy voin. You’ve lost all privileges of hiding.” His hand easily works between my thighs before I relent.

There’s no stopping him now. His fingers are on me, gliding easily through my wet folds.

I bite my tongue to keep a moan from escaping when the thick pad of his fingertip finds my clit and gently rubs it in a circle.

“You don’t hate me as much as you say,” he says as he continues to massage my clit.

“It’s not my fault,” I groan, fisting my hands. Mind over matter, isn’t that what I was told growing up? My body isn’t listening to anything my mind is telling it. Just another lie I was told.

“The cars, how many did you help him steal?” He continues his questions while increasing the pressure on my clit.

“I don’t know. Thirty? Maybe more.” It’s the truth, I don’t know the exact number. My job wasn’t to keep tally.

“Did you work for anyone other than Michael Agosti? When Jimmy went to prison maybe?” His finger leaves my clit, gliding to my entrance. “Now would be the wrong time to stay silent, moy sladkiy voin.”

“No. When Jimmy went to prison, I got out. I was eighteen by then.” I push my ass toward him, toward his finger, toward the pleasure he’s holding just outside my grasp.

“Why were you meeting Jimmy yesterday morning, then?” He eases the tip of his finger inside. “What was that about?”

“Nothing. It was nothing.” I can’t tell him; I won’t get him involved in my mess.

“Lying again?” He pulls his finger out, leaving me feeling empty and wanting. “You weren’t talking about pulling more jobs?”

“No. I swear it. I was telling him that I wouldn’t.” It’s enough of the truth.

“He wanted you to, though? He still wants you to join his crew?”

“Yes.” I look over my shoulder at him, surprised to find his eyes fixed on me.

“Did he mention Kraze?”

“No. He’s working again, but I don’t know where or what. I said I wanted nothing to do with him.”

He stares at me for a long moment. “And the lie last night? To cover going to Michael’s house?”

If only I had the courage to roll my eyes, but his belt is still within reach, and he still has me pinned to the table.

“I already told you. It was his sister’s house, and I didn’t know that it was his sister until he showed up at the end.” If it wasn’t for him, I probably would have been recommended to other rich families that would have paid big money for these parties. Then I could get the cash for Jimmy and get him out of my hair faster.

“You lied.” The last nail being driven into the coffin would have been a softer sound.

“I did.” No sense in denying it, and I can’t even explain it without having to tell him about the money I owe Jimmy.

“Then you deserve to be punished.” He leans over me again.

“Wait! You already did!” I point out, wiggling enough until his belt slides off my back and onto the table.

“No, that was only to get you talking.” That’s all the warning I get. He lays into me again, this time with his hand.

Over and over again he smacks my bare ass, reigniting the fire his belt had started and continuing to spread the flames down my thighs and back up to my ass.

There isn’t a spot spared on my flesh. I dance from one foot to the other, whining and crying and demanding that he stop. Nothing stops him.

“Learn your lesson, Marlena. Lying will get you a hot ass every time.” He quickens the spanks, makes them harder.

“I’ve learned! I’ve learned!” I yell, swinging my arm back. He easily captures it, pins it to my back and holds me down. A quick shift of his positioning and he’s back at it.

I’ll never sit again.

“Have you?” He pauses, his breath isn’t even going fast. None of this has any effect on him.

Then he presses himself against my ass, and I feel every inch of the effect.

When I push back at him, despite the irritation of his jeans against my sore ass, he chuckles and pulls away.

“I’ve learned. No lying. I’ve learned.” I wipe my cheeks with my free hand.

He releases my arm and helps me up from the table. My mind swirls at the new position, and he catches me when I stumble back a step.

I lay my hands against his chest, finding my balance. His hand sweeps across my cheek then knuckles my chin up.

“You okay?”

“My ass hurts,” I complain, but the smile that crosses his lips suggests that’s not what he meant.

“Punishments always will.” He runs the fat of his thumb over my bottom lip.

“Other things ache.” I nibble on my bottom lip.

He pulls it free from my teeth.

“First, be a good girl. Then you’ll get rewarded.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Drink your coffee before it gets cold.”

“Are you leaving?” I ask when his hand drops from my face. I can’t explain it, but the spot where his hand was feels abandoned. Another red flag, flying high.

“Not yet.” He squats down and grabs my leggings, pulling them up my body and dragging them over my sore ass. The amount of pride he shows when he finds me wincing is rude, but I’m too sore to risk telling him.

“Then what are you doing?”

“Spending time with you.”

“Spending time with me?”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“I have to put my laundry away, and I have a sewing project to get done.” My sewing machine is one of the few things I refuse to sell. It actually helps me make money by doing some alterations for people. I have a dress I need to finish hemming for the girl upstairs.

“My mother used to sew in the kitchen while I played with my toys.” He brushes his knuckles across my lips. “I didn’t bring any toys, but I’m sure I can find something to play with.”