Page 57 of Sin & Sapphire

Ana, you are such a stupid fucking slut. They don’t even think of you as a person, and here you are, desperate for their attention and praise.When I jerked away, determined to preserve what little remained of my dignity, Valentin slapped the sensitive inside of my thigh, drawing a howl of pain out of me.

Angelo hooked his fingers into my mouth, turning my face toward him. “Suck, angel.”

Thought deserted me as he circled my clit in a swift rhythm that sent me soaring.

“Fuck, yes, you’re a gorgeous little thing,” Angelo murmured, his eyes dark with desire. Warmth flooded through me, humiliating and shameful so soon after my earlier resolution to tell these men to fuck off. “That’s it, sweet angel,” he murmured, finding the rhythms and pressure that made me tick as he played with my clit. I moaned around his fingers, then gave into the pleasure, tentatively sucked on him, then hollowing out my cheeks as he continued to murmur sweet praise in my ears. “Such a beautiful slut, willing to do anything for a bit of praise, aren’t you?”

Valentin dragged a finger down the welt on my ass, agony and bliss combining, bringing me higher and higher, out of control, unable to think or breathe as pressure built in my core. I sucked hard on Angelo’s fingers, a whining, desperate, writhing mess, fucking his hand as Valentin smacked me with the wooden spoon.

Euphoria exploded outward, shrapnel obliterating my vision as I clenched my thighs around Angelo’s fingers and curled in on myself with the power of my climax, crying out as my vision faded to black and I collapsed against the table.

I lay there, breathing hard, sweat dripping off my brow, once again ashamed of how easily I gave into these two men.

Valentin shocked me by tucking a strand of my blonde hair behind my ear. Gentle fingers rubbed a cool substance into my welts as I laid bent over the table, trying to get my bearings. When I tried to push myself up, my arms wobbled.

Angelo swept me into his lap before I embarrassed myself by falling forward, draping my legs over his with my ass hanging out, blissfully free from any contact that would send me howling again.

“So pretty when you submit,” he said and sucked my earlobe between his teeth, scraping them along my skin until I shuddered, need once again pooling between my thighs. He tucked my head against his shoulder.

Weakly, I pushed away, desperate to maintain my resistance to their touch, only for Valentin to raise the small whip he kept in his hand, a silent threat of more pain. “Première règle?” First rule?

“Obéissance, maître,” I whispered, burrowing my face into Angelo’s chest and telling myself it was because I didn’t have a choice.

Lockingme in my room with only a sandwich for company was bullshit. I paced the length and width, counting my steps, memorizing the contours, strategizing my escape. But even as the sun set and a hard knock sounded on my door, I had nothing.

The door opened, revealing Valentin’s frame, too handsome for my own good in a suit that hugged his shoulder muscles and showed off his trim lines. He tugged the knot of his tie, then unbuttoned the collar. His face was tired, the lines around his eyes deep, and his full lips tilted into a frown.

“Kneel.” Valentin radiated authority, filling the room with his silent expectation of obedience. Before I could stop myself, I dropped to my knees, lowered my eyes, and rested my hands on my thighs. Then turned them up like the pictures of BDSM I’d seen on the internet, then turned them down again. Fuck, why was I so awkward all of a sudden? If pleasing this cold, complicated man was my path to freedom, then I would do it. That was the only reason I was on my knees, I told myself.

I peeked at Valentin from lowered lashes, only to find him watching me contemplatively.

“Chin up, eyes down, hands behind your back,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

The new position thrust my breasts forward, but I obediently kept my eyes down and ached for Valentin’s approval.

His soft, “Good girl,” eased the anxious pressure in my chest. Why did I want to impress him? He left me to rot in this room all day. He fucking kidnapped me! Valentin Rochefort and Angelo Costa were no different from any of the other men in my life who’d tried to rule me, and ultimately failed because they underestimated me. It didn’t matter how carefully they’d fed me, how hard I’d come when Angelo fingered me, and how much I liked the silence in my head when Valentin hurt me. They didn’t respect me.

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t,” he growled, interrupting my spiraling thoughts. “I lost a ten-million-euro warehouse to a fire today, and I’m going to lose at least sixty-five million more before Tchérnov considers us even for that fucking yacht you blew up. So behave yourself for once.”

Maybe Angelo shouldn’t have sent me away in the first place.Wait—Tchérnov is taking the cost of his yacht out of Valentin’s businesses and not the Costas’? Does he not want to piss off Angelo’s father?I turned the thought over in my head, examining it from every angle while Valentin circled me, catlike and predatory.

“Ana, Ana, Ana. Some men want blow jobs when they get home from work. I want to make a pretty girl cry until she begs for mercy. And look at you here, on your knees, your gorgeous tits heaving every time you breathe, begging for my strap.”

My heart sped up like I was sixteen and talking to a crush. Brains? Education? Who cares? He thought I waspretty.

That awful whip, the one he kept in his pocket, flicked out and cracked into one of my nipples.

I shrieked with pain, my hands darting up to cover my breasts, and he laughed. “Did I say you could move?”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t,maître,” I snapped back.

Valentin hummed. “Hands behind your back, I believe was the command.”

Reluctantly, I bared my breasts again. The scrape of my palm over my nipples sent a shock of need straight to my clit, and I fought to keep my face expressionless.

“Good girl,” Valentin said. “Pretty girl, bared to me and eager for the pain,” he continued, and I flushed with embarrassment at how true his words were. I wanted him to whip me, get it over with and distract me from my loneliness.

“You like the praise, don’t you?” he mused, pulling me from my thoughts. “You crave it.”

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