I cup her arse cheek, and she shivers. I squeeze her rounded flesh, and her entire body jolts. The muscles of her back are so tightly wound, she’s going to get a headache.
"Shh, relax now." I drag my palm up her spine toward her neck. "Loosen your shoulders."
She does.
"Good girl."
She draws in a sharp breath. Interesting. I do believe she liked it when I said that. I continue to caress her, from her lower back to below her head, and again. The tension drains from her muscles. Inch by inch, her body grows heavier. Her hair hangs down either side of her face, covering her features. That’s when I raise my hand and bring it down on her butt again.
She gasps. "Why did you do that? Why did you wait until I was all relaxed?"
"Because it hurts more then." It’s not true, but I know it will aggravate her.
"What the—" She begins to turn her head, but I grasp the back of her neck and hold her in place. Then I bring my palm down on her arse again. She huffs. I spank her again and again, alternating arse cheeks. She tries to wiggle away, but I tighten my hold on her until she stills. I continue to wallop her, until finally, she yells, "Stop that. Let me go, you big bully."
"Okay." I release my hold on her, then stand up so she hits the ground on her hands and knees.
"Ow!" She stares up at me from where she’s sprawled out on the floor. "That hurt, you jerk-face."
"Good." I straighten my shirtsleeves, then pull out my cufflinks and refasten them. I turn and head toward the door…
"Stop, where are you going?"
I continue out of the bedroom, toward the main door of the apartment, when I hear footsteps. The next thing I know, she brushes past me, turns around and bars the exit. "That hurt, you wankface."
"Not as much as you hurt me."
She looks away, then back at me.
"Why did you track me down, Cade? I don’t hear from you for years, then here you are. Why?"
"Just because you didn’t hear from me, doesn’t mean I didn’t know where you were."
She blinks, then shakes her head. "What do you mean? Were you keeping track of me? Did you have me followed, were you stalking me?"
Yes. I allow my lips to curl. "Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve kept in touch with Knight. Clearly, he didn’t mention it to you."
Her forehead crinkles. "You speak with Knight?"
"At least every other month. We meet from time to time, too."
Her shoulders slump. "He never told me."
"Not my problem." I slap my palm against the door, then lean in close enough to fill my lungs with her sweet, innocent scent. Not that innocent, though. Not after what she did to me in high school. I was fooled by the clarity of her eyes, by her angelic looks, by her pretense of being someone I could trust. Turns out, I couldn’t. I’ve never forgiven her for it. And I never will. And now, she's going to pay.
"Out of my way, Sparrow."
She gulps, then tips up her chin. "And if I refuse?"
"Do you want me to stay? Do you want me to find out how aroused you are from that spanking I gave you? Or maybe you want me to spank your pussy this time and make you orgasm from the pain?"
Her breath hitches. Her pupils dilate. She parts her lips and stares at me, the look in her eyes both stricken and turned on.
"Well damn"—I search her features— "apparently, the poor little rich girl grew up to be naughtier than I expected."
"I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"I’d love to stay and explain. However, I have places to be, things to do; and none of them involve denying my best friend’s little sister an orgasm."
"Deny me?" She blinks. "Why would you deny me an orgasm?"
"Because I’m not going to let you come, baby. I’m going to tease you, and taunt you, and bring you to the edge. I’m going to touch you all over, squeeze your nipples, pinch your clit, toy with your back hole, and maybe your slit, too, if I feel like it. I’m going to raise you to a fever pitch of wanting, and then—"
"Then?" She swallows.
"Then…nothing." I grip her waist, lift her, and place her aside. I push the door open, then turn. "Oh, be ready at six p.m. tomorrow; you’re coming with me."
4
Abby
“You mean, your father arranged your wedding with someone you’d never met?”
“Umm, yeah?” I narrow my gaze on my friend Solene’s face; she’s staring up at me from my phone screen. I met her before she became a famous popstar, at a rare family outing to Italy when I was a teenager. My father had gone to meet her father who was a Mafia Don. Solene and I hit it off and then kept up the friendship. Knight hated her brother on sight. Solene and I, on the other hand, became best friends, mainly because we have so much in common.
I was a mafia princess, and so was she. Only difference is her father’s dead. When her brother tried to arrange marriages for her and her sister Olivia, Massimo Sovrano, who belonged to the Cosa Nostra, killed him and married Olivia himself. He is now the de facto head of their family. Since he and the other Sovrano brothers settled down, they’ve legalized their businesses.
All of this is to say, Solene has the Sovranos’ protection as well as the freedom to pursue her career as a pop star.
“That’s why you left home and barely speak with your family?” she asks.
When I hesitate, her features soften. “Your secrets are safe with me, babe, you know that.”
“I do. I love our friends, but you’re the only person who understands what it’s like to come from a mafia background.”
“I loved my brother, but I admit, I felt more than a small measure of relief when he was killed. Then, I knew I wouldn’t be forced into an arranged marriage. Not to mention, it was that whole situation that led to me meeting Declan.
She’s referring to Declan Beauchamp, her boyfriend and current Hollywood heartthrob.
Her brow furrows. “Is it terrible that I feel that way about my own father?”
I shake my head. “I wish my father a long life, but I can’t help wishing he’d get with the times. I mean, an arranged marriage? Jesus, sometimes I think all that money’s warped his thinking.”
“I can’t believe he let you break off the marriage, not to mention, actually leave home.”
“I didn’t give him a choice. And Knight backed me up. My brother stood up for me, which, if I’m being honest, is probably the only reason I’m not married to the mob,” I murmur.
She scans my features, “So you left, and your father let you go?”
I nod.
“And the man he promised you to?”
I hesitate.
Her eyebrows draw down. “What is it, Abby? What aren’t you telling me?”
“The man I was supposed to marry… I don’t think he took the news of our marriage being called off very well.”
“Meaning?”
I shuffle my feet, “He, uh… I think he may not have given up on the idea of marrying me.”
“What?” Her eyes round. “What do you mean?”