Chapter 23
23
CELIA
H e might very well be bluffing. Maybe he’d been carrying extra ammo. With my heart pounding, I jerked the gun to the side and squeezed off a shot.
There was nothing but a clicking sound. My mouth went dry.
He leaned against the wall, his big arms crossed over his chest once more.
“When did you know?” My voice shook. I wasn’t even sure why I was asking.
I could turn and run, but I doubted I would even make it to the front door before he was on me. And I hadn’t gotten the chance to see how it was locked so I could move swiftly to get it open.
My fingers tightened around the car keys. I wanted to be in that car and racing down the road so badly.
“When you called my name. I wish you would call my name like that for real.”
“I just did.”
“Did you?” He took a step toward me, his eyes sparking. “Or was that part of your game?”
I shook my head.
“How do you want to try to get out of this, Celia?” He held his hand out, though there was still space between us. “Are you going to fight me or are you going to accept the punishment you so deserve?”
Long seconds ticked by. I debated my best way out of this mess. The front door felt as if it stretched a mile away. The knife block was closer, but if I went for a knife, I’d have to make sure I was willing to use it that close up to Luca. If I kept hold of the jacket and the gun, I could load the bullets—but I would need space and time. My hands were shaking, so I would be clumsy.
Luca was surprisingly cool-headed, but there were only so many times I could try to murder the man before he snapped.
I didn’t think he would hurt me that much now…but it was a risk.
Still my best chance.
I held the gun out to him. “Punish me.”
His eyes smoldered at those words.
He took the gun, then held out his hand for the jacket. I draped it over his corded forearm. He set the gun on the counter, then draped the jacket over a chair—putting some distance between them.
Then he came back to me, loosening his tie before he pulled it away. I expected him to tie my hands, and I held them out, but he stepped behind me. His hands were gentle and careful as he blindfolded me, moving my hair away so it wasn’t caught in the knot. I was surprised at how careful he was, and I crossed my arms over my band t-shirt.
“Did I catch your hair in the knot?” he said quietly, moving my hair over my shoulder.
“No.” My nipples were hard, sharp pebbles that pressed through the soft fabric.
“I don’t want to cause you any pain that isn’t intentional on my part,” he murmured, before his lips brushed my shoulder. My back arched involuntarily, and I bit my lower lip.
My entire body felt electric, pumped with adrenaline and fear and desire.
He scooped me up over his shoulder. I found myself dangling upside down as he carried me toward the stairs. When his palm stung my ass, I let out a gasp.
“What am I going to do with you?” he asked, and I had the feeling he was half musing to himself. “I can’t toss you in the mausoleum again. Someone was losing his mind about it. He didn’t give two shits that you almost murdered me—he was worried a spider might bite you.”
He slapped my ass again. It was quite the way to punctuate his words.
Someone—Dante? Dante had to be the one who was cooking for me in the background, unless they had a housekeeper—and what kind of housekeeper would sign on to cook for them while they kidnapped people and double-crossed the Carmichael family?
“How should I punish you, Celia?”
“Are you really looking for my feedback?”
“Very much so.”
“You could spank me again.”
“You like it too much.”
“I don’t.”
“Liar.” He’d reached the top of the stairs, and I counted his steps, trying to calculate just how far my room was from the stairs. He carried me inside, and then he eased me down onto the soft bed. He was so careful when he was holding me.
“Anyway, I’ve spanked you twice, and you’re more wicked than ever, aren’t you?” His lips came close to my ear, his deep, sexy voice sinfully close. He braced his arms to either side of me.
I squirmed at the threat of what else he might come up with. “I’ll be good.”
“Somehow I doubt that very much.” He slid his hand along my arm, tracing his fingers over my inner arm, until he reached my palm. His fingers brushed my palm, then twined with my fingers. Despite my fear, my fingers closed as they wove through his, holding his hand.
He gently moved my hand with him until I felt the cold press of the metal bars of the headboard. I started to pull away, but it was too late. I couldn’t fight him anyway, with his size and muscles. He cuffed my wrist to the bars.
“Don’t struggle, you’ll bruise.” He grabbed my other wrist and guided it to the opposite side, but stopped to press a kiss to the inside of my wrist before he snapped the cuff on.
“Don’t tie me up,” I begged. “What if I’m in danger?”
“Then you’ll have to trust me to protect you. And you’ll have to hope that I’m no longer angry that you pulled a gun on me.”
I swallowed hard. I wanted to ask him if he was angry, but I didn’t dare. He didn’t sound very angry, though. Somehow Luca always seemed amused—and slightly impressed—by me.
But that didn’t change the rise of panic I felt at being tied up. “Please…”
“If I said, please don’t try to kill me , Celia , would that ‘please’ mean anything to you?” He moved away, and then I felt him grip my ankle.
I lashed out, trying to kick him, trying to escape, as my body took over from my brain. It didn’t matter. His grip was like iron around my ankle as he guided my foot into place, and then I felt something secure around my ankle. He reached for the other one, pushing up on my foot to force me to bend my knees. My legs were separated, spread wide—so wide that I felt my hips stretch. Then I felt him secure the other ankle.
He paused, and the sense of being so exposed, so vulnerable, so watched made me frantic. But there was no escape.
“Please, please, please take the blindfold off,” I whispered. “What are you doing?”
He slapped me—but in between the thighs, across my pussy. I let out a gasp of shock. It hurt, then turned into warmth.
“I’ll let you know if there’s anything I want to hear from your lying mouth, starlight.”
I pressed my lips together tightly, holding back all my pleas. I could feel him rise from the bed and move around. There was a faint metallic sound and gears grinding, and then suddenly my feet were rising in the air. My hips rose, too, until I was suspended with my bottom elevated off the bed, my weight on my upper back and shoulders. I didn’t speak but I couldn’t help the quick intake of my breath. My heart was pounding, my breathing harsh and ragged in the silence of the room.
He touched my arm lightly, his touch skimming up my skin, until he reached the blindfold and removed it. He smiled down at me. “I want you to see what I’m going to do to you.”
I bit my lower lip to hold back the surge of words. Of begging, perhaps. I hated being tied up at his mercy.
Now I could see that my ankles were attached to either side of a spreader bar, which was anchored to the ceiling. My legs were spread wide, so that I would be exposing everything to him if I weren’t wearing my t-shirt and panties.
He leaned forward and nipped my thigh with his teeth, hard enough to sting but not to break the skin. I gasped and writhed, but I couldn’t get anywhere. The metal chains that connected the spreader bar to the ceiling made faint noise.
“Sweet music,” he said. “But not as sweet as it will be soon. Are you still afraid of the belt, Celia?”
I stared back at him. He slapped my ass, the movement almost lazy. “Answer when I ask you a question.”
“Yes. Sir.” I ground the words out, sure that was what he wanted to hear.
And I was sure that he wanted my reluctance.
“Good.” He unbuttoned his shirt, taking his time, and removed it. Underneath, he wore a white t-shirt, and he pulled it over his head. His muscles rippled with the movement, revealing a mile of tanned, tattooed skin stretched over a powerful chest and the hard ridges of his defined abs.
He looked like a god. Too bad he was a demon.
Then he pulled his belt free of the loops. I stared at it, feeling my stomach swoop.
He dropped it on the bed beside me. “Your turn.”
I frowned up at him, confused, as he pulled a knife out of his pocket and flipped it open.
I let out a whimper of fear.
“It’s for your clothes, Celia. God, do you think I’m a monster?”
I assumed the question was rhetorical. But then he looked up at me, one brow arched.
“Yes,” I breathed out.
“Every woman in our world needs a monster on their side,” he told me.
Then he began to cut away my clothes. The cool, flat side of the knife brushed my skin, and I froze in fear. But he was careful as he sliced a line up my shirt, away from my skin, until it was ripped up along my belly button towards my breasts. He grabbed the fabric in both hands and tore it open. My breasts and the faint curve of my stomach came into view. I felt self conscious, but it wasn’t as if I could move away from his examination.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, leaning his head down to press a kiss to the place where my breast curved out from my chest. “It almost makes me want to be merciful.”
He looked up at me and winked. “Almost.”
I couldn’t quite join in the joke.
He sliced through my panties, from thigh to waistband on one side, then the other. He tossed aside the poor remnants of my underwear.
“You tried to use this beautiful pussy of yours to seduce me,” he said, running his thumb languidly through my folds. I jerked, but I couldn’t go anywhere. “So, I think it needs to be punished, doesn’t it?”
“Please,” I whispered.
“Save the begging, starlight. You’ll have a lot to say soon.”
He doubled over the belt and tapped it ever so lightly against my pussy, as if he were testing it out. The thud of the belt made me jerk again, even though it was more warmth than pain this time.
His gaze flickered up to my face, watching me react, as he took a few more gentle test slaps.
Then he did it again, and he wasn’t gentle.
Hot pain jolted through my core. I cried out in shock.
“Does it hurt more than being hit with a shovel, do you think?” he asked me conversationally.
Then he slapped me again.
“No.” Tears had come to my eyes from the pain, and he reached up and wiped them away with his thumb.
“Probably not,” he agreed.
Then he went on, spanking my pussy again and again, as well as the curve of my ass just above where it joined my thighs. I gave up on not speaking as I pleaded, cried, and screamed.
All of which he seemed to greatly enjoy.
“It’s not all pain, though, is it, starlight?” He leaned down and nipped at my thigh, the stubble of his five o’clock shadow scraping against my skin.
The sensation of having his face brush against my clit, even as sore as I was right now, sent an expected surge of longing flooding through my body. Already, the pain was beginning to fade into a warm glow.
“It wasn’t rhetorical. Answer me.”
“It’s not all pain…anymore.”
He turned his face and licked across my swollen clit. The sound that burst out of me—half agony, half-giddy desire—startled me, but didn’t seem to startle him.
The tip of his tongue teased over my folds. My legs shook and trembled, but it didn’t matter since they were anchored up, out of his way.
And just when I was on the verge of exploding…
He pulled up and away.
“What are you doing?” I murmured.
He reached for the blindfold again. Panic surged through me. “No, no…what if my father finds me?”
“He won’t,” he said confidently.
“You can’t leave me like this!”
“I can.” His rough hand brushed over my hair, tenderly. I enjoyed his touch until it dawned on me he was stroking my hair back to get it out of the way of the blindfold. “I remember how you played the ice queen with me. Now you beg me.”
He lowered his mouth to my ear and whispered, “And you look so beautiful right now, suspended at the verge of an orgasm you definitely don’t deserve.”
The world went dark as he slipped the blindfold back over my eyes.
“Luca!”
“You can call my name all you want. Now that we both know you can’t manipulate me.” His hand gripped my breast, squeezed it possessively, as if I was his.
“Luca—” I didn’t try to hide it anymore. “I can’t see anyone coming now, I’m afraid?—”
“You’ll just have to learn to trust me. I’ll protect you from what’s coming.”
His footsteps receded.
“From what’s coming? What’s happening, Luca? What do you know?”
But he just left me alone, in the dark and in my panic.