Page 59 of SINS & Riley

---

“But I thought I’d get to ask?—”

He nips my shoulder. I squirm, but the ruler stays in place. “You thought wrong, Pom. Me first. You next.”

Fine. Fuck. Whatever.

I want to tell him not to call me Pom.

I remind myself he’s my warden. That I hate him. Or at least—I should.

But there’s something in his voice when he says it. Even with his thick Russian accent and gravelly tone, something stops my protest.

Something stupid. Something wrong. A deep ache I can’t shake.

A craving that won’t let me go.

For the moment, I close my eyes and let my imagination run. That right here, right now, this is Dante here with me.

Not Zver.

A hand slides along my hip, down my thigh, then skates along the crest of my ass.

Even after his hand vanishes, the heat of it lingers.

I melt into it.

“If you answer honestly, I’ll caress you. If you don’t, I’ll punish you. And I’ll know when you’re lying.”

Will he?

Crack.

“Do you understand?”

The first strike lands across my ass, cutting straight through my jeans.

A tear slips free.

It doesn’t hurt.

It feels like I’m on fire.

Slowly, he begins to rub. A palm over one cheek, then the other.

“I said, do you understand?”

“Yes—Jesus—I understand.”

His hand keeps moving, deceptively soft. I’m still trying to process if this is punishment when his voice cuts across my thoughts.

“Did you enjoy taking the bishop for me?”

Humiliation spikes. He wants me to admit it. To say that I enjoyed it, and that I rode that chess piece until I nearly made it a diamond.

Not a chance. “No.” The lie scrapes out of me, and I brace for impact.

“Try again.” Another crack. This time, harder than before.

I cry out the truth. “Yes.”

---