Page 113 of Sin & Sapphire

Ana’s expression softened and gratitude flickered in her gorgeous green eyes. “I want to,” she admitted softly.

“For us?” Valentin asked, wonder in his voice.

Ana blushed and nodded.

He looked at her thoughtfully. “Do you want me to order you to do it?”

She nodded again, refusing to meet either of our eyes, and it was so fucking adorable I wanted to sweep her into my arms and reassure her that her cunt was delicious no matter what. But that’s not what she needed, was it?

“Do you want to start visiting the widows tonight?” he asked her, rubbing his chin in thought.

Ana stiffened beside him. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Then you’ll follow my instructions and groom yourself to my exact specifications.”

She opened her mouth.

“Don’t. Not unless you want me to punish you here, in public.”

Ana’s breath quickened, and she shifted in her seat.

Valentin smiled down at her, his expression amused and cruel. “Or is that what you want, princess?”

Ana clenched her jaw and perused the menu, pretending that she didn’t need to answer, as if she had the right to choose what she ate. Give her an inch of freedom, and the little brat would take a mile.

“Angel,” I said, annoyance whipping through me, “what are the rules?”

She furrowed her brow. “Perfect obedience, speak only when spoken to, and you own my orgasms.”

“And who owns you?”

To my surprise, my angel’s eyes were clear and bright when she looked up at me. She closed the menu, and then smiled the sweet smile she’d given me earlier, when I’d defended her against that bitch at the boutique.

“You do, sir.” Her eyes cut to Valentin, who didn’t bother concealing his cruel smile. “And you,maître.”

“That’s right, angel. You wear what we tell you, you eat what we tell you, and you fucking suck our cocks when we tell you.”

Her lips parted, and her breath sped up. Did she want me to tell her what to do, play with her, right here, in the restaurant?

“Yes, sir,” she breathed.

Valentin slid a hand up her back and tangled it in her hair, wrenching her head backward and exposing her neck. “Is that all?”

“No,maître.I’m sorry, sir, I’m sorry,maître.” She rushed the words out, as if she were afraid we’d punish her.

We would.

But not here.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” I murmured, and to my surprise, she melted in Valentin’s grip, releasing the tension in her shoulders and scooting closer to him. He nipped her earlobe, and she yelped, then shifted in her seat, revealing how much it turned her on. Did she even realize what she was doing? How much she craved our control?

“Thank you,maître,” she said, and I had to hold in a moan. “Thank you, sir.”

“This afternoon, you’ll go to the stylist and get your hair bleached back to blonde and your body waxed,” I told her. “To our specifications.”

“Yes, sir.”

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