AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I try to push myself up, but his hand presses firmly on my back, keeping me in place. “I said I was going to behave.”
He slides his hand down to my ass, cupping it as his breathing gets heavier. I haven’t had time to put pants on, and I’m already out of my underwear. My bare pussy is exposed to him, and if he touches it, he’s going to discover that I’m already wet.
I can barely breathe as he runs his hand over my ass, pinching my skin and chuckling. “You’re so sensitive. You know how red your little ass gets when I pinch it?”
“I’m not sensitive,” I reply, pushing out my ass. “Go ahead and slap it. See if I even react.”
The first smack lands with a sharp sting, and I bite my lip to keep from making noise. He doesn’t hold back, each slap echoing in the room, the sting intensifying each time. My body tenses, but I force myself to stay still, not wanting him to think I can’t handle it.
He pauses for a moment, his hand resting on my hot skin. “Do you understand now?” he asks, his voice softer but still firm. “Do you understand that there are consequences for your actions?”
“Yes,” I breathe, my voice trembling. “I understand.”
“Good,” he murmurs, his hand gently rubbing my ass. “Because as much as you pretend like you aren’t sensitive, your burning red ass is telling a different story.”
He steps back, allowing me to stand up. My legs are shaky, and I can feel the heat radiating from my skin. Viktor’s eyes are intense, but there’s a softness there too, a silent promise that he’s not really trying to hurt me.
This is how he plays. This is how he shows that he likes me and that he cares.
I step away from the bed, my heart still pounding in my chest as I search for clothes to wear. Viktor watches me like a hawk, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Is he going to do something crazy again?
The tension in the room is palpable. I can practically taste it on my tongue. It’s electric like a warm summer night right before a thunderstorm, when the wind blows a little too hard and the air drops down a few degrees with the promise of rain.
And with Viktor, when it rains, it pours.
18
Viktor
The man in the blue suit. That’s what he’s been nicknamed until we find out more about him.
I’d like that to be quick because he’s been on my mind since Johnny mentioned him yesterday. I may have even had a dream about him, but the details of that are blurry. I don’t like trying to remember my dreams because they’re so often nightmares.
“That’s a cop if I ever saw one,” Pasha says, placing a glossy print of the security footage on the table. “This is the best image we have of him. Clear facial features, probably not too difficult to locate if we have enough eyes on the street, unless he came from out of town.”
Ivan rubs his chin, then shakes his head. “Not a cop.”
“How do you know that?” I ask him, frowning at the picture. It certainly looks like it could be a cop. The blonde hair that Johnny mentioned is buzzed so short he might as well be bald.He’s muscular too, and has all the markings of an undercover agent.
Ivan continues shaking his head, placing a stubby finger on the photo and tapping on it. “Cops don’t wear Hermès.”
I lean in, and sure enough, I make out the familiar H buckle of a Hermès belt. “Good eye,” I mutter.
Pasha looks disappointed, but progress is progress. We can’t let our pride get in the way here.
While I’m relieved that the police aren’t snooping around in our casino, it bothers me deeply that someone with a lot of money is leaking information at my casino. Whoever this is wants to play the mastermind by setting up situations that could result in my death. They’re being so indirect about it, though, which leads me to believe they’re afraid of getting caught.
Our forces in the city are large, so they must be a smaller competitor, someone who doesn’t want to be wiped off the face of the planet once we discover who they are.
But coming into my club and appearing on camera was a bad move. Maybe he thought we didn’t keep tapes because this is an illegal gambling ring, but I keep records of everything. Even in my own home, there are no fewer than a hundred hidden microphones around the house, recording every conversation, no matter how quiet it is.
Now, I’m never driven to listen to them. I simply don’t have the time, but when something like this comes up, I have records. Everything is tracked.
“So, he’s someone rich who doesn’t like you,” Sage says, patting me on the back. “I don’t suppose that narrows it down any.”
“Not really,” I reply, shaking my head. I start to pull a cigar out of my pocket, but then I remember what Sage said about my health. She’s right more times than I care to admit. I don’t want to die before I can see our children grow into adults.
Even more so, I don’t want to leave her alone in this cruel world.
