Chapter 2 #2
In fact, the idea of using Yuri to make her horrible predicament more bearable held some appeal.
Though she’d never considered herself a cock-tease, the idea of slowly peeling down her tank top to show her tits, squeezing them and rubbing them as she slid down to her knees in front of the bulge in his crotch flitted through her mind.
What would the Russian do? Clench those tattooed knuckles? Sit back to see what she’d do? No. He wasn’t the restrained at a strip club type. He’d be more the kind to grab her by the hair and force her down on his cock. Or to pin her wrists above her head and fuck her hard against the wall.
And that idea appealed way too much to her.
Well, if she decided it was worth it, seducing him might not be a hardship, but she was reserving judgement on that one.
Yuri ordered food anyway, glancing at her as he placed the order, as if he might read by her blank face what she liked to eat.
Freddo and Tommy pulled the desk out and arranged chairs around it. A deck of cards appeared. “Yuri, you in?”
His eyes flicked to their table, then to her. His face was unreadable. “Yeah, I’m in.” He strolled past her. Though he never looked, the air between them crackled as he went by, sending tingles up her bare legs.
Crazy Russian. No man had ever had her even thinking about seduction before.
Sex was something she did for fun. Or for entertainment.
To feel good. She hadn’t met anyone yet she wanted to lock in for a lifetime of the same.
Funny how the Russian filled her brain with all kinds of errant thoughts.
Like what it would be like to lick a line down his abs to his happy trail.
She cursed the thoughts. Right now she needed to think about how to get the hell out of here. And her best chance lay with alerting the guy coming for room service. They wouldn’t let him enter with her duct taped to a chair, would they?
Presumably, they’d just take the food at the door.
She was surprised but pleased they hadn’t taped her mouth shut, because it would give her a chance to scream.
Of course they may just shoot her right there, but she didn’t think so.
Chances were good they’d take her somewhere more secluded to kill her.
Her sense of timing might be off, but she waited until she thought the food might be coming soon. “I need to use the bathroom,” she announced.
She’d been hoping for Yuri, but Tommy was up first, making an impatient sound in his throat as he pulled out a knife. He slashed her bound arms free from the chair, making her scream at how close he came to cutting her skin with the knife.
He pulled her to her feet roughly and hauled her into the bedroom, where the bathroom was. Butterflies winged around in her chest but she forced herself to be calm, saying a silent prayer that some golden opportunity might present itself.
In the bathroom, he refused to leave or shut the door. Determined not to show intimidation, she lifted her chin as she attempted to pull up her skirt with her taped wrists and somehow shimmy her panties down enough to sit on the toilet.
He didn’t offer any help—not that she wanted it.
She peed. Then she sat there, stalling for time.
“Let’s go,” Tommy growled.
“I have to poo,” she said with exaggerated innocence.
His eyes narrowed. “Bullshit,” he said, but he didn’t move to pull her off, because, yeah. Who wanted to make that mistake?
She pretended to strain and nodded at him.
He rolled his eyes and backed out of the bathroom, standing in the open doorway.
Okay. Time bought. Now what? His gun was strapped on his back, not in his hand. She didn’t know how much more time that gave her—one or two more seconds, maybe? So when the room service guy came, she could try to shove the door into him and run past, screaming her lungs out.
Ugh. God. Was that really the best she could come up with?
Tommy drummed his fingers against the wooden door. “Come on, let’s hurry up.”
“Not done yet,” she sang out sweetly.
He blew out his breath across his lips, making a pshaw sound.
A tap sounded on the door of the suite.
She bolted off the toilet. When Tommy also lurched toward her, she turned her back, pretending to fuss about toilet paper but actually using her legs to shove the panties off and over her strappy sandals before they hindered her flight.
She waited until he came close. Then she clocked him in the nose with her forehead.
He bellowed in pain as she rushed past, through the bedroom, toward the door to the hallway.
Yuri leaped like a freaking billy goat, launching one foot off the double bed to land the next on the second bed, and then drop right in front of her.
She slammed into the solid wall of muscle that made up his body.
His hand clapped over her mouth before she’d even drawn a breath to scream for help.
“Don’t make a fucking sound, Lucya.” He growled her name with an extra syllable, pronouncing it Lu-see-ya . His head bent toward hers and despite the threat, the position was intimate, the same way he’d spoken to her in the club. It was sexy and seductive and threatening all at once.
Her heart rattled hard against her ribs.
For a moment, no one moved. Yuri listened to the conversation with the bellboy in the other room, Tommy stifled his groan from the bathroom door.
As soon as the door in the living room suite shut, Tommy came barreling toward her. “I am going to fuck that bitch up.”
Yuri released her mouth and gave her a slight push away, toward Tommy, but he said, “No.” He released his belt buckle and pulled the length of leather out from his loops in a whoosh. “I will punish her.” He whapped the end of the belt in his palm, making her jump.
She glanced from the furious, bleeding Tommy to the tattooed Russian coiling his belt around his fist and swallowed, fear turning her entire body cold.
Yuri didn’t wait for Tommy’s agreement but shoved her face down over the side of the bed, yanking up her skirt.
“ Where. Are. Your. Panties ?” Yuri sounded pissed.
With her hands still taped behind her back, her face smashed into the bedspread, she turned her head to try to see him over her shoulder, but all she saw was the pale blue of his button-down, the dark grey slacks.
“I lost them in the bathroom.” She only answered because the bellow in Yuri’s voice made him sound crazy jealous, as if she’d let Tommy take them off and suck her pussy or something.
She didn’t want the insane Russian more angry than he already was.
Thank fuck. He knew she’d had on panties earlier because he’d fucking felt them when he’d had his hand down her skirt.
For one terrible second there, he thought Tommy had done something to her in the bathroom—raped her or tried to.
But she’d been on the toilet. Without the use of her hands, they must have dropped or something.
Tommy still stood there, bleeding from his nose and glowering, so Yuri got down to business immediately and let the belt swing. He whipped a line across the lower half of Lucy’s buttocks.
She screamed and attempted to fly up from her position.
He pinned her with a hand between her shoulder blades. “Get me her panties to stuff in her mouth,” he barked at Tommy.
Tommy’s look of disgust was what he’d hoped for. The guy harrumphed but did as he was told, bringing the panties to Yuri, dangling from one finger like they disgusted him. “You’re a sick fuck, you know that?”
He took the panties and wrestled them into Lucy’s mouth. “Da. That’s why you keep me around.”
Tommy made another scoffing noise and left the room.
He let out the breath he’d been holding since the moment Lucy made her escape attempt. He just might have this situation contained.
He stared down at Lucy’s bare ass, crossed with one red stripe from his belt. She had a cute butt—muscular like a dancer’s. And while he wanted to give it all his attention, he’d rather it be with his hands. Or tongue. Or the slap of his loins as he gripped her hips and pounded her from behind.
His cock surged against his zipper. Down, boy. This wasn’t play, and he definitely wouldn’t be getting off.
Which was a damn shame, because the sight of this much of Lucy’s skin sent lust rocketing.
But Tommy or Freddo might return any minute, and he needed to make sure they believed he was handling Lucy adequately.
He held Lucy down by the nape and gave her two light swats with the belt.
She squealed behind the panties, squeezing her cheeks together.
“I told you to be good,” he clipped.
She yelled at him through her gag, wriggling against his hold.
“I can’t protect you when you go rogue.” He delivered another light swat, then leaned over to speak in her ear. “I have to whip you, Lucya. I’m sorry.” The tightness in his chest made his accent thicker.
She wouldn’t forgive him for this. And the fact that it mattered to him, told him he’d been harboring some foolish hope about her.
Like someday he’d be able to date her?
Yeah, because mafiya enforcers turned undercover FBI agents are able to date like normal people.
She blinked at him, eyebrows slashing down in anger.
He traced one of them with his thumb. “It has to be me who punishes. Because if any of them mar your beautiful face, I’ll fucking kill them.”
She went still, eyes on his face.
“Trust me. My belt is preferable to broken bones.”
A shiver ran through her.
He dropped a kiss on her nape before he straightened.
Not wanting Tommy or Freddo to come back and investigate the silence, he swung the belt and whipped her again, four times, eliciting muffled screams from her.
Her beautiful lean legs danced beneath her, alternately straightening until she stood on her tiptoes and kicking up.
“I’ll try to go easy on you.” He kept his voice low so they wouldn’t hear it from the other room. It fucking killed him to hurt her—his Lucya—even though this was normally his preferred form of foreplay.
A tiny sob came from her but he steeled himself and tightened the buckle end of the belt around his fist. She muttered something that he couldn’t understand with the panties in her mouth.
He swung the belt, striking the mattress beside her to test the sound. It wasn’t as loud as the crack of leather on bare skin, but it might work. He repeated the action five times, punishing the bed with the full strength of his arm.
Lucy watched him with big eyes, her expression one part fear, one part wonder.
But beating the bed didn’t fully solve his problem. He needed to leave her ass and legs red or the guys would know something was amiss. “Your turn,” he said grimly, taking aim.
The ropey muscles of her back tensed.
He held her bound wrists in one hand to pin her down as he smarted the lower half of her buttocks and the backs of her legs. He tempered his strength, keeping the strokes light and even, so her squeezing and quivering ass took on a general rosy shade, rather than welts.
But why should his belt be so lucky? He wanted to touch her delectable skin himself. Wanted to know just how it would sound when his palm smacked that supple skin. He dropped the belt and just used his hand.
Her rosy flesh was warm and soft, springy under the crack of his palm.
And it was as satisfying as he’d expected.
Too bad this wasn’t consensual. He’d love to take her over his lap and spank her until she screamed, then reward her with every form of pleasure he knew how to give.
Unable to resist, he crouched down and laid a kiss on each of her heated cheeks.
When he looked up, he saw tears glimmering in her eyes.
Fuck.
Seeing her cry fucking ruined him. She was supposed to be his sunlight. But it figured he’d dim her brightness. He’d always known he would, that’s why he’d never approached her.
“Come here.” He lifted her up to stand, pulling her trembling form against his chest.
She turned her face from him, unsuccessfully attempting to hold her body apart from his. He brushed the tears that had spilled from her face and pulled her panties from her mouth, tossing them on the floor.
He palmed her heated ass and massaged away the hurt. “I’m sorry, Lucya.”
She smelled like brightness, of summer fruit—no, candy.
Her short skirt was still stuck up around her waist and he did nothing to remedy the problem, choosing instead to squeeze and rub her delectable backside.
When he realized her bare pussy was in contact with his leg, his boner grew in his pants.
She stiffened, feeling it. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”
His gut twisted with regret at the wounded sound in her voice. “Only some parts.” Better to admit the truth—she already hated him. “But when I saw you were crying, it fucking gutted me. I prefer the women I whip to agree first.”
She jerked her nape backward in his hand, putting enough space between them for her to look up into his face. Her lip curled in disgust. “There are women who like that?”
Only because he took her rejection as a challenge did he allow the corners of his lips to lift slightly. He leaned close again. “Believe me, solnishko , if the circumstances had been different, I could’ve made you like it, too.”
Uncertainty crossed her face, but her eyes dilated, nipples steepled into stiff points.
So. Maybe she was kinky.
“What is solnishko ?” The husky notes of her voice strummed every chord in his body.
He lightened his touch on her ass, skimming his fingertips along the curves. “It means sunshine. That it what you have always been to me. An unexplained light in a world of blackness.”