Page 56 of The Thief

Does it surprise me that Antonio owns Casanova? Not even a little. I’m starting to realize that when they call him the King of Venice, it’s not an exaggeration. He really has his finger on the pulse of the city.

I sign at the dotted line quickly, a shiver running through me. The club monitor finishes up her safety instructions and leaves, and Antonio pushes the door open. “After you.”

I step into the room. Unlike the public areas, it’s sparsely decorated. There is no carpet on the cement floor and no art on the wall. This looks much more like Asylum. A heavy wooden desk sits in the center, and several chairs are propped against the wall. A crystal bowl offers lube and condoms.

Antonio comes up behind me. “I was watching you when the monitor went through the rules,” he says. “You don’t look surprised,” he says. “You’ve done this before?”

“Yes.” He’s waiting for me to elaborate, so I add, “I used to go to a club in Chicago right after my parents died.”

“Okay.” His blue eyes rest on me. “Do you have a safeword?”

“Red to stop, yellow to slow down and check in?”

An enigmatic smile covers his face. “It would be smart to have a discussion about our hard and soft limits,” he says, spinning me around and tugging me up against him. “But regrettably, I am too impatient for that.”

I’m too impatient as well. And besides, I’ve never been much for self-preservation. “You said you wanted to punish me.” Blood rushes to my cheeks when I hear how eager I sound. “I’m good with that.”

His grip on me tightens. He hears my eagerness, too, and helikesit. “If I bend you over that desk, hold your hands behind your back, and spank your ass?—”

My insides clench. “Yes, please,” I say, anticipation making me impatient.

“How many drinks have you had?”

“Just one glass of wine. It won’t interfere with my ability to use my safeword.”

He lets go of me and takes a half-step back. His expression turns forbidding. “Take off your dress, Lucia. From the moment you returned to Venice, you’ve been begging for punishment, and now you’re going to get it.”

His voice is so deliciously stern—I love it. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“In this room, you’ll call me Sir.”

Needs zaps through me, an electric current shocking my body. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“I’m not interested in your apologies,” he says icily. “And I’m not interested in your delaying tactics. I believe I told you to take off your dress. When I give you an order, I expect immediate obedience.”

He moves behind me and unzips my dress, his fingers brushing my skin, his warm touch a sharp contrast with his cool tone, and it falls to the floor in a pool of fabric.

Underneath, I’m wearing the green lingerie set he gave me. When he sees it, his eyes turn hot and hard. “Who did you wear that for?” His fingers grip my hips. “Was it for Enzo?”

“No, Sir.” I swallow hard and tell him the truth. “I wore this because it reminds me of you.”

“Is that so?” he asks silkily. “Take it off.”

I shiver. Antonio’s seen me naked before, but there’s something about this role-play that changes the dynamic between us and amplifies its intensity. I am inexplicably nervous as I undo the clasp of my bra, and my palms are sweaty as I take off my panties.

He studies me for a long time when I’m naked, and then he leads me over to the desk and pushes me down on it. “Hands on the table. If you take them off, you won’t like what happens next.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Bent as I am, my aching breasts are crushed against the wood, sending a fresh surge of heat through me. I obey his orders, bringing my hands up in front of me and setting my palms flat on the tabletop.

“Good girl.”

Pleasure warms my cheeks. He hasn’t given me permission to speak, so I wait in silence for my next order. In this position, I can’t see him unless he’s right in front of me. I just hear the sound of his footsteps and hold still, my skin prickling, my heart pounding, for his first hard slap.

It doesn’t come, not immediately. He moves behind me, and his hands slide over my ass, proprietary yet dispassionate, like he’s assessing a horse he wants to buy. It takes all my control to hold still and not push back against him. I want to feel his fingers on my clit again, his mouth between my legs. . .

His nails scrape my skin, and I can’t hold back my whimper. Need effervescences through me like bubbles in champagne, and I unconsciously push back into his touch.

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