Chapter 30
G regor
Power meant control.
That was my mantra.
It shaped every action of my life.
When I returned and found her gone, I was powerless and the lack of control tested my sanity.
Samara had become necessary to my existence. It was that simple.
She was mine.
And I kept what was mine.
You did not build a powerful criminal empire by being weak when it came to going after and keeping what you wanted.
I still couldn’t believe she had left our bed to disappear in the middle of the night like that.
I had honestly thought we had gotten past the idea she would return to the life she had before I reclaimed her.
Sure, I hadn’t given her much choice in the matter but that wasn’t the point.
Whether or not she realized it, she needed me.
I was her only protection from her father and the Novikoffs.
They had come after her once. They would come after her again.
A dark wave of possessive fury overtook me at just the thought of what would have happened if her father or Egor had succeeded tonight. She did not understand the danger she was putting herself in, but by the end of tonight, she would if I had to strip her ass raw with my belt.
If Samara thought I was overbearing and controlling this past week, she was in for a rude awakening. Actions have consequences.
My malyshka was about to learn her harshest lesson yet.
I thought I had made it clear to her I was in charge from now on.
Apparently, she hadn’t gotten the message.
I would just have to make sure I made myself painfully clear from this point forward.
I reached my hand down to my belt. The edge of my thumb caressed the smooth leather as thoughts of tying Samara to a bed and giving her a belt lashing only partially appeased me.
I knew that if she had chosen to run, I might never find her again.
Damien was good, but I doubted even his abilities in being able to track down someone with Samara’s skills again.
No matter. I intended on clipping her wings, and soon.
I wasn’t waiting any longer. The arrangements were already being made.
By this time tomorrow, Samara would be my wife… whether she liked it or not.
“Are you fucking kidding me with this?” she shouted as soon as the cop drove off, bringing me back to the present situation and her imminent punishment.
“Little one, I have already made myself clear on how I feel about that pretty mouth of yours uttering such vulgar words. Do I need to remind you of the punishment again?”
I watched her beautiful face turn pale.
“I was only borrowing your car,” she lied as she refused to meet my eyes.
I took a step forward. She instinctively stepped back. This angered me even more.
Would I be forever chasing after her?
She needed to recognize that her situation had changed. I was in her life now, and I had absolutely no intention of leaving. The sooner she accepted that fact, the easier everything would be.
With both hands, I reached out and grabbed her upper arms, snatching her body to mine. With her arms secured behind her back, her full breasts were pressed against my chest. The V-neck of her t-shirt exposed the upper swells of creamy skin. A low growl rumbled from deep in my throat.
All I could think was mine.
Mine.
I was a decisive man in business and in life. When I saw something I wanted, I took it. No regrets. And there was no mistaking that I wanted Samara. All of her. No other man would ever touch her again as far as I was concerned.
She struggled within my grasp, inflaming me more as her hips brushed my already erect cock.
“Let me go!”
“No.”
“Will you stop saying that? All I ever hear from you is no,” she complained, stamping her small foot into the dirt like the petulant child I planned to treat her as.
I placed a finger under her chin and forced her to meet my gaze. “That’s because you keep asking the wrong questions.”
With our bodies pressed close, I could feel as well as hear her short gasp.
“Uncuff me,” she demanded.
“No.”
With that, I bent low and placed a shoulder against her stomach. With little effort, I lifted her slight weight high and carried her back to my car.
Samara cried out. A swift slap to her ass silenced her immediately.
Without any ceremony, I deposited her into the back seat of my Range Rover.
Sitting her upright on the passenger side, I reached over to buckle her in tight.
As I closed the door and headed toward the Audi, I called Jim, who had suffered more from a bruised ego than the bashing she gave him on the head.
“I found her. Grab the extra set of Audi keys and come pick up the car on the corner of Broadway and Bryn Mawr,” I instructed as I grabbed the keys out of the ignition and Samara’s purse before locking the door and returning to the Range Rover.
* * *
We drove back in silence.
Samara stubbornly kept her face averted as she stared out at the dark sky over Lake Michigan.
The house was dark and quiet when I pressed the button to open the outside gate.
I had chosen to only wake up Jim when I realized Samara was missing.
Rose was used to late night comings and goings of myself and associates, so she was unlikely to be alarmed by the sound of us entering the house at three in the morning.
I marched Samara out of the garage and through the dark entryway up the main staircase. Walking past her door, I went straight to my room.
“I’m exhausted. I would prefer to go to my own room, if you please,” she said primly.
“You’ve been told before. Bad girls who run away from home in the middle of the night earn severe punishments, not a quiet night in bed,” I growled in response.
Samara pulled away from me as we crossed the threshold into my bedroom. As she turned, I could tell she was ready for a fight.
Good, so was I.
“Stop saying things like that.”
“Like what?” I asked as I pulled the sweater I had tossed on over my head.
I watched as her eyes darted over my naked chest. She probably didn’t even realize the tip of her cute pink tongue darted out to wet her lower lip.
“Like… like I’m some little girl you can… can spank!”
Closing the distance between us, I grabbed her around the waist. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m already your husband, and I have every intention of punishing that impertinent ass of yours,” I warned I, reaching down to grasp her ass with both my hands and squeezing.
As her mouth opened on a shocked gasp, my own descended.
I took her mouth with all the pent-up rage and possession I felt.
Claiming her tongue as my own. Biting that plump lower lip.
Rubbing the underside of my tongue along the sharp edge of her teeth.
Remembering how this same mouth felt wrapped around my cock.
“Say it,” I commanded as I pressed my lips to her vulnerable throat. “I want to hear you beg me for mercy.”
Lifting her head up and away, she broke our kiss. Her hard green gaze met my own. “To quote your favorite word, no.”
I smiled.
I loved it when she taunted me into playing rough.
Grabbing her by the hair, I dragged her over to my bed.
I tossed her slight weight into the center onto her stomach.
Leaping onto the bed, I straddled her hips.
As she screamed and thrashed, I reached for the silk cord that held back thick velvet curtains on either side of the headboard.
With swift efficiency, I secured a simple slip knot around her throat, then wrapped the cord around the center post of the headboard.
She stilled.
Moving off her body, I walked to the foot of the bed and watched as she tried the knot around her throat. Every time she moved too sharply, it tightened, cutting off her air.
Grabbing her flailing legs by the ankles, I took off her sneakers. My fingers then gripped the soft band of her yoga pants and removed them and her panties in one smooth motion.
There it was, one of my favorite things about her. The small heart tattoo on her ass. It embodied her spirit of sass and innocence and beckoned to me like a heart-shaped bullseye. Unable to resist, I gave her a single smack on her ass.
Her whole body bowed.
“I’m going to scream this house down,” she threatened through clenched teeth as those beautiful emerald eyes flashed daggers at me.
Within her line of view, I slowly unbuckled my belt. I wanted there to be no doubt what was going to happen next.
Samara’s face crumpled. “Don’t do this. I’m sorry I tried to run. I promise I won’t do it again.”
Whipping the thick leather through my jean belt loops, I folded it in half between my hands. “I’m going to make sure of it.”
Her mouth snapped shut as she lowered her eyes.
Her half naked form was prone and vulnerable. The black blanket I had placed over her earlier highlighted her luminously pale skin.
Taking a step back, I raised my arm high.
Samara let out a scream as the thick leather came down across her naked backside.
I waited till the first red welt appeared on her white cheeks before raising my arm again.
Careful to avoid her straining, still cuffed hands, I belted her ass again and again.
Each time, an angry red stripe would appear either on her cheeks or her upper thighs.
Samara cried out in anguish with each strike.
“Beg me,” I commanded.
“Please stop!”
I hit her with my belt again, this time on the delicate curve just below her ass where her thighs began.
Samara’s body curled into a fetal position as she fell to her side. The rope around her neck grew taunt. Immediately, she laid back down on her stomach like a good girl.
The room was once more filled with the sound of leather against skin and her shrieks of pain.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she cried in desperation.
My belt fell across her reddened cheeks several more times.
“Please! I’m sorry!”
Finally, her precious heart tattoo disappeared as her skin burned a furious red.
Lowering my hands to the fastening of my jeans, I growled, “Your punishment isn’t over, malyshka.”