Page 30 of Sin & Sapphire

“I’m begging you,” I continued, shocked at the words coming out of my mouth. “I’ll do anything you want.”

Valentin laughed cruelly, then wrapped his fingers in my hair and dragged me across the tiny cell.

I shrieked at the pain, clutching where he held on to me, only to find myself once more over his lap.

He shoved my dress up, then yanked down my lacy panties, leaving them tangled around my knees.

My breath shuddered, ragged and uneven, desperate not to reveal my nerves, my anticipation of his touch, furious that I already had.

He slid a finger over my folds, tracing the seam of my pussy, and my legs slid apart before I could stop them.

“That’s my good girl,” he said, and I fought not to preen under the praise. Letting my uncle feel me up wasn’t being a good girl. It was the lesser of two evils—better him than the creeps who beat me up. “Nice and wet, even if you don’t know you’re a masochist yet.”

I whimpered when he dragged a finger against my clit, then slammed my legs back together.

“Do you like praise, princess? Does it turn you on as much as it did when you begged me to punish you?”

I didn’t answer, and he laughed softly as he continued to stroke against my skin, his fingers leaving a trail of electricity everywhere they wandered.

“Count to ten, princess,” Valentin commanded.

Only ten this time?

Agony exploded on my ass as his hand connected with my skin, and I howled with pain.

“Count,” he snarled.

“One,” I gasped, desperate to recover from the shock and pain before another impact roared through me.

“Two.”

Valentin continued to spank me, his hand heavy as he bruised my ass. And me? With every impact, I felt myself relax into his hold, the pain slowly transforming into a gorgeous, floaty bliss that wiped every thought from my brain.

“Ten,” I whispered, desperately holding onto a sliver of myself, terrified that in a few short moments, he’d not only obliterated my thoughts, but everything that made me me.

He slapped my ass one final time, more gently this time. “Putin de magnifique,” he murmured, as if to himself. Fucking beautiful. “You took that so well, princess,” he added, running his hands over my curves, soothing the burn, massaging the ache. With far more care than he’d used to pull them down, he arranged my panties over my ass.

I cried out as the lace scraped against my agonized skin, only for Valentin to scratch his fingers over my scalp once again, as if he knew how much that simple gesture soothed me. “Up, princess.”

The delicious lassitude that had stolen over me during the last few spanks still coursed through my veins. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to.

Valentin stood, righting me as I tumbled off his lap, then eyed me critically. A moment later, I found myself encased in his suit jacket, the smell of citrus and sandalwood as comforting as it was overwhelming.

“Hold on,” he said, and I didn’t understand until he scooped me up in his arms, bridal-style, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, comforted by the heat of his body as I snuggled into his chest, telling myself I didn’t have a choice.

He used the arm wrapped around my shoulders to pound on the door. “C’est fini.” We’re done here.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, then pulled away. “Put me down.”

Valentin looked down at me, his eyes shuttered and unreadable. “Can you walk?”

“I want to.”

“That’s not what I asked,” he murmured as he set me down with care, as though I were made of glass and might shatter if he made too abrupt a movement.

I wobbled and grabbed at his arm, standing straight in time for the door to open.

The man who opened it was the same man who’d beat me earlier.

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