Page 39 of Sin & Sapphire

“You’re safe,” I promised her, even though I was sure she’d dispute that when she realized what I intended for her.

“I have to pee,” she said.

“I have to pee,Sir,” I corrected her gently, cupping her face with my palm.

She stared up at me with those clear green eyes that hid every thought. She’d been trained well to be a mafioso’s wife. And what a glorious fucking wife she would be.

To someone else.

Fuck.

“Please,” she said, her voice soft and vulnerable from sleep, even as she visibly fought to wake up.

“Ask for it,” I said. “Using the correct honorific for me.”

She pressed her lips together in a hard line as she shifted in the bed, unable to move to relieve the pressure on her bladder.

Valentin sat on the other side, dragging his fingers down her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

“I’m going to piss the bed,” she said flatly.

“Then you’ll lie in it,” Valentin told her, putting gentle pressure on her pelvis.

“What are you—? Hey, stop, asshole!”

“Maître,” Valentin corrected. “You’ll address me asmaître.” French for master.

“Fuck you both,” she snarled. He pressed harder on her pelvis, and she moaned, her face flushing red with embarrassment. “Please,” she murmured. “I have to pee so fucking bad.”

I continued to stroke her hair, not moving.

She shifted in the bed, and we waited. And waited.

“Please, sir,” she said finally, her face red with embarrassment. “I have to pee.”

Valentin met my eyes. She wasn’t asking. She wasn’t begging. But it was close enough for this first go around.

We unlatched the cuffs, stroking our fingers down her body as we moved from her wrists to her ankles. The moment she was free, she swung her feet around, her eyes darting wildly around the room.

I caught her wrist before she could do anything stupid. “This way.”

Opening the door, I showed her the bathroom. We’d removed anything she could use as a weapon, even the mirror. Ana wasn’t a trained fighter, but she’d been raised in the mafia all the same. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.

She yanked away from me and dashed to the toilet. “Out!” she shouted, her eyes narrowed and angry.

“No,” I told her, folding my arms over my chest and leaning on the counter, admiring the flush that spread over her chest and the rosy nipples that begged for my lips.

At a loss for words, she stared at me. “You want to watch me pee? Is that your … kink?”

Oh, sweet angel, if only you knew.“My kink is owning every part of you and everything you do, from your cute, flushed cheeks, to your hard nipples, to when you piss.”

“Get out,” she snarled, her cheeks flushing more red than pink. Fucking gorgeous.

“No,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Then I’m leaving,” she said, standing up.

I held her shoulders down. “Absolutely not. No one abuses my property—including you. You are not going to treat yourself poorly just because you’re angry with me. Empty your bladder.”

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