Page 109 of Sinful Honor

“Mhmm.” I squirmed when his glorious finger swiped over my sex.

God yes.

He chuckled, then his flat hand made contact again.

I gasped. This time the pain rolled through me and immediately turned into a delicious heat.

“You like this, don’t you?” He swiped his fingers through my folds. “Fuck, you’re drenched.”

Then he gently slapped me right there, between the legs. Pain and heat merged into one, and my cry turned into a sigh.

More. I needed more.

Instead, he let go of my wrists and propped me up until I stood between his legs.

He handed me a flimsy, colorful dress. “Try this on.”

I stared at him, blinked, then turned my eyes to the dress, then back at him. I could see his cock straining against his shorts.

“Why?”

“Because we need to leave—right now—and save your sisters.”

My sisters.

As if he’d emptied a bucket of cold water in my face, I suddenly snapped back to the here and now. Of course, how could I be so shallow as to want him to fuck me—or slap me—instead of saving my sisters?

God.

I nodded, then pulled the colorful dress over my head. It reached the middle of my thighs—a couple of inches too short though sexy as hell—both revealing and covering me with its layered design.

He looked at me as if he wanted me—his bulge growing—but then his lips curled, and his eyes grew cold—appalled.

As if I was wearing something absolutely tasteless.

“Next.”

“It’s a perfectly fine dress.”

He growled.

I pulled it over my head, then found some panties and a bra when I went through the mountain of clothes—I put those on—thank God the bra fit—then tried the next piece and the next.

And so it went.

Except for one long, black dress, which had the style of a kimono, covering me from my throat to a couple of inches above my ankles, he dismissed every single one of his mother’s dresses.

I ended up in a shirt and another pair of his shorts. That’s how he pulled me out of the room and all the way into the backseat of a black SUV with blacked-out windows.

Progress, I guess, since the last time he took me somewhere, he threw me into the trunk, while this time, he made me sit between him and another man, who eyed me suspiciously.

“Alessandro, meet Sophie. Sophie, this is my brother Alessandro.”

The man next to me gave me a suspicious side-eye.

From the passenger seat, his other brother Cristo turned around and winked at me.

“Nice to officially meet you, Sophie.”

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