Page 51 of Sin & Sapphire

What?No, I absolutely was not disappointed that he wasn’t going to get me off, that he wasn’t going to continue his fingers’ languorous strokes through my folds, that he was going to leave me hanging like this.

“And slut? Don’t forget who your orgasms belong to.”

Fuck him.

I stood from the bed, wincing at the crumbs that surrounded me and the water that had dripped down onto the sheets.

My orgasms belonged to me, and the moment I was alone in the shower, I was going to indulge in one.

“Tu vas le payer cher,” Valentin murmured as I brushed past him, reading my mind. You’ll regret it.

I wouldn’t.

I turned on the shower, testing the temperature, my reluctance to be nude in front of Valentin long since gone. While it warmed, I carefully removed the bandages they’d applied, wincing at the scar I’d have on my cheek, the scrapes on my arms, and the bruises on my legs. When I raised my fingers to my face, my eye was sore and bruised.

“Don’t worry, princess. You’ll still be beautiful enough to convince fools to part from their money,” Valentin said from where he leaned on the door, arms crossed over his bare chest, emphasizing the strength of his biceps and the hard lines of his shoulders.

His words cut deep, as if that were the only reason to care about my looks, as if that were all I was good for.

But wasn’t that the truth?

That’s all my father had ever used me for, making men feel good so he could close deals. All Angelo cared about was shipping me off to keep me out of trouble then looking for an alliance, now that the Tchérnovs no longer suited him. And now my captors wanted me for my body—for my pussy.

Silently, I stepped into the water, pulling the door shut, the frosted glass offering no real privacy.

Someone had stocked the shower with my favorite luxury products, and I moaned with pleasure as I washed my hair. After three weeks on the streets, double bunking in hostels, crashing on couches, not quite desperate and starving, but never sure where I’d sleep, I intended to enjoy every moment of comfort these unhinged men afforded me.

Since I wasn’t any good for anything else.

No, fuck that.

Valentin stood in the doorway, still watching me, his full lips tilted into a cruel smile.

I hated him.

He’d always been indifferent to me at best, cruel at worst. Angelo didn’t like me either. When he visited my father, or we flew to Italy to visit my grandfather, Angelo always left the room when I entered, leaving Valentin to drop cruel barbs about my brains and my place in life.

But if there was anything my father raised me to do, it was capturing the attention of men, and I was good at that. Maybe the only thing I was good at.

Valentin might have hated me, but he wanted me too. And I could make him regret trying to turn me into his whore.

I slid my hands down my body, disassociating from my heartbreak, from the thought of a future as a submissive mafia wife, a slave to my husband’s whims, was the ultimate conclusion to the way my father had raised me. Instead, I focused on the increasing speed of my heart, the glide of my palms down my skin, the pinch of pain when I pressed too hard on a bruise, and how it felt so fucking good when I did it.

Hot water poured over me, each cut stinging in turn as I washed, my movements sensuous and deliberate. Did he see the movement of my hands down my stomach? Did his eyes track when I cupped a breast and flicked my nipple with my thumb until it beaded under the flow of the water?

My exhale turned ragged as I slid a hand between my legs, circling my clit with soapy fingers. It wouldn’t take much. He’d left me wet and wanting. I closed my eyes, shoving away reality and imagining Luca in the shower with me. Sweet, gentle Luca, who never asked more of me than I could give, his tongue exploring my folds with soft precision.

I moaned, maybe a little louder than my arousal warranted, but I wanted Valentin’s attention, watching me as I pinched a nipple, imagining Luca’s teeth scraping softly against my skin, never demanding too much, never pushing me further than I wanted.

The tile cooled my skin when I leaned back against, it, arching my back and thrusting my breasts out. I knew how to draw men’s eyes, and I wanted Valentin’s on me, even as I visualized Luca kneeling before me, one hand wrapped around my breast, kneading it, palming my nipples and scraping his callused hands against them while he nuzzled my pussy.

The fantasy morphed in my mind, with Valentin standing in front of me, slapping my breasts, agony ricocheting through me until it faded to a pleasant burn, as Luca slid a finger into me, fucking me with it.

I whined and slid a second finger into my pussy as I pinched a nipple and ground my clit against my palm. Pleasure wove through me as I imagined myself sandwiched between the two men, Luca’s tongue dancing with mine, their fingers plunging in and out of my pussy as Valentin spanked me.

Oh fuck.

Oh god.

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