Page 31 of Beautiful Scar

Closing my eyes and thinking about Tigran has been more than enough.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Good morning, Dasha,” Vito says on the morning of the third day after my husband’s abrupt visit. My rooms are cleaned and straightened, though pretty barren now. Vito sweeps in with a tray of coffee and French toast.

The man is a wizard when it comes to sweet breakfast foods.

“You do realize you’re my favorite man in the world, right?” I ask as I sit down greedily in front of my breakfast.

“Don’t tell Tigran that, please. My employer can be rather jealous.” Vito’s eyes sparkle with amusement. He’s a jolly old man, and I’ve really grown to like him despite myself. “Unfortunately, I have some bad news for you.”

“You waited until I started eating on purpose,” I mumble at him around a mouth filled with the most amazing French toast I’ve ever tasted. Buttery, sweet, rich, divine. I could die right now, and I’d ascend to breakfast food heaven where the angels live on fluffy pancake clouds.

“I most certainly did,” Vito admits. He disappears into the hall before returning a moment later, pushing a clothing rack.

Several different dresses sway from side to side.

I sit back in horror.

“What are those?” I gasp, raising an accusatory fork. Syrup drips into my lap. I scoop it up with a finger and pop it into my mouth. Delicious. I’m a freak for this stuff.

“Your husband wishes you to know that the meeting is tonight. He says you are to pick one of these and have it on by six this evening.” Vito clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable, but he holds his composure. “Your husband also wishes me to convey the importance of this request, and that your failure to follow through will result in—” He clears his throat awkwardly. “A punishment.”

My eyebrows shoot up and my heart skitters in my chest. The memory of last night’s fantasy flits through my brain.Tigran lifting my conservative skirt up over my ass, only to find I’m not wearing any panties. “You filthy fucking girl,” he purrs as he spanks me raw. “You’ll need a punishment now. Open your mouth and take my cock once there’s a bruise the shape of my hand on your bare ass.”

God, I’m absolutely deranged.

“What kind of punishment are we talking about here?” I ask him.

He fidgets, wringing his hands. “His exact words were,If she’s not dressed on time, I’m going to kick down her door, shove her in some clothes, and drag her by the fucking hair to that meeting. I’m sorry to be vulgar.”

Oh, sweet mercy.

A sudden flush of arousal falls over me. The image of Tigran stripping me, punishing me, and dressing me when he’s done?—

Well, it’s not the most distressing thing I’ve ever imagined.

“Thank you, Vito,” I say, summoning every ounce of propriety I can manage. “I appreciate your honesty.”

“Very good, Dasha,” he says, sounding relieved. “Will there be anything else?”

“Yes, actually.” I keep my chin up. I will maintain my dignity, even if I am going to escape into the bedroom and furiously masturbate the second Vito’s out of the room. “Please bring more French toast in approximately thirty minutes.” That should give me enough time to get off at least once.

Probably twice.

“Wonderful. I’ll be back in thirty.” He turns smartly and shuffles out of the room.

Once he’s gone, I look down at my plate.

Then I leap up, run into the bedroom, slam the door, lock it, and bite down on the pillow as I rub my fingers over my clit, back arched and ass in the air, sweat oozing down my back.

I come so hard thinking about Tigran punishing me that I nearly black out.

My brain is broken, but my god, my body feels amazing.

They’re all absolutely despicable.

It’s like Tigran enjoys making my life miserable.

---