“You shouldn’t be here.” I retrieved my shirt and yanked it off the hanger, causing the piece of plastic to slam into the closet wall harder than I’d meant it to. “I don’t want to be rude, but I am really pissed off, and if you stick around, I’m afraid I might take it out on you, so please just go.”

  Threading my arms through the shirt, I tugged it on, expecting the Italian to have gone in the meantime. Instead, Michele stepped deeper into the room and was in the process of sliding the door closed behind him.

  His gaze remained fixed to me, staring through his lashes in that sexy, intimidating way. My bunk was small, but Michele made it look downright cartoonish, looming over his surroundings like some kind of dark deity.

  “You wish to punish someone?”

  My back straightened while I took a deep breath. Hearing those words sparked that thing inside me, but the problem was I didn’t know if I could be respectful. In that moment, my mind had become too clouded, too rattled, for me to stay in control of my actions. I ran the risk of hurting him and I didn’t want that.

  “Then do it.”

  I clenched my jaw. “You should go.”

  Michele stepped closer. “I said, do it.”

  “You don’t—”

  “Do it.” He snapped at me, causing my insides to jump.

  “Mr. Sacchi.”

  “Do it!”

  A sharp crack filled the space. Shock swelled within me in an instant, an almost overwhelming sensation that left my heart racing and me struggling to take in breath.

  Michele’s head rested to the side under the force of my slap, but he said nothing. Instead, as his cheek tinted pink beneath his stubble, he returned his gaze to me.

  “Is that the best you’ve—?”

  I hadn’t given him the chance to finish the taunting statement, bringing my left hand across the other side of his face just as hard as the first. Michele growled. His breathing became labored while he quivered. Something had ignited inside him, something dangerous that shone through his eyes when he met my gaze again.

  Encouraged and grateful for the outlet, I couldn’t help myself.

  Planting my hands against his chest, I shoved Michele back, hard. He hit the door with a grunt, and I was on him a second later. Threading my fingers through his hair, I tugged on his locks, jerking his head to the side. Michele again let loose a sultry, delicious groan. He reached for me, cradling my hips and digging his fingertips in while I bit into his neck.

  Michele ran his hands up my back, sliding them beneath my untucked shirt, then raking his blunt fingernails down my flesh. Shivers tore through me at the sting of it.

  When I withdrew, I didn’t go far, still brushing my lips against his. He’d become tense and rigid, and seemed unwilling to move. That feeling, that power, remained something I had enjoyed since discovering the BDSM world. His pleasure relied fully and completely on me…again.

  “Goodbye, Mr. Sacchi.”

  I bit his bottom lip, dragging it between my teeth when I stepped away from him.

  Michele struggled to open his eyes, but when he did, they were blacker than ink. Filled with unanswered lust, they made him appear inhuman, and I loved it. My mind flashed back to a few hours prior, to the pair of us in the hall when he had been given satisfaction and I had not.

  His breathing remained ragged, but he’d closed his mouth, clenching his jaw so tight that I wondered if it hurt. And while I adored every second of his torture, I wasn’t in the frame of mind to fully capitalize on it.

  People on the outside tended to think that anger would help in BDSM, but no. God no. One of the first things I had learned when exploring my kinks was to never ever bring anger into the bedroom. It would only hurt the partner.

  A bit of lighthearted hazing could be just what the doctor ordered, however.

  I turned my attention to Michele, shedding the ‘level five brat’ I’d been before and wrapping myself in a solid level eight, perhaps nine.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked. “A little tense?”

  In a rough tone, he said, “You will not leave me this way.”

  His voice mirrored the look in his eyes. I had to fight a shudder.

  I arched a challenging brow and kept my voice sweet. “What way?”

  Instead of verbally replying, he snatched me by the wrist and planted my open hand firmly against his dick. It flinched beneath my palm, so hard that I could have sworn I’d touched warm stone instead. My pussy craved it the longer I held him, begging to have it inside. I’d been closer to allowing it than I cared to admit.

  I mean, it’s been a couple of hours, but holy shit. How’s he this hard again?

  “Like this.” He forced the words through clenched teeth. “You will not leave me like this.”

  “Oh,” I cooed and began to stroke him through his trousers.

  Michele’s jaw finally relaxed, and his eyes rolled back into his head. He swallowed another groan when I squeezed him. He sank into the pleasure I chose to give him, well aware of what I was capable of doing with minimal effort.

  Michele fell deeper and deeper into my touch, straddling the line between submission and control. Leaning forward, I pushed myself up onto my toes so that I could whisper in his ear.

  “I can leave you however I want,” I said. “And you can’t do shit about it.”

  His muddled brain offered me the chance to back away. I retreated to the bathroom to finish cleaning myself up while he came to.

  Michele turned an angry, almost hateful eye to me, staring at me through the reflection of the mirror. He’d become mindful of the fact that I had no intention of finishing him off a second time.

  “Is that what you think?”

  And I said the brattiest thing I could think of at the time. “You’re not the boss of me.”

  Flames flickered in his eyes, and they weren’t fueled by frustration. Some thing, some wicked thing, had crossed his mind.

  “You will pay for this.”

  My stomach fluttered, but I said nothing. I arched a brow and was sure to appear as though I’d been unaffected by the threat. Michele cast me an evil sneer before he left.

  When he’d gone, I relaxed.

  Everything within me screamed to call him back so we could finish what we’d started. I genuinely ached for him, but that was the point. I loved the sexual frustration. Half the time it remained better than the actual sex, and I had no intentions of giving it up just yet.

  I couldn’t wait to see what punishment he had in mind.

  Chapter Ten

  By the time midnight rolled around, I’d been on shift for fourteen hours. I was ready to take a shower and go to bed, exhausted from the day’s events. I just wanted to rest!

  The Barbie triplets hadn’t stayed the night. They might as well have. They’d left half an hour prior, and that had been at the urging of their curmudgeonly guardian. They made it obvious that they would’ve preferred staying.

  I rinsed my dishes, cleaning off the remnants of my dinner, the only meal I’d had since my shift began. Someone’s heavy, clomping footsteps echoed to my right where the stairs sat. Chris appeared a second later.

  “Headin’ to bed?” he asked with a light laugh.

  “Shower…then bed.”

  Chris smiled and nodded in agreement until something seemed to cross his mind.

  “Oh! No, you can’t.”

  I narrowed my gaze, my internal voice warning him not to give me a task.

  “Mr. Sacchi wants you to bring him some more towels.”

  “Which Mr. Sacchi?” Being related, most of them shared a surname.

  “The tall one.” A smirk twisted his lips. “The one that keeps eyin’ you.”

  My stomach curled at the mention of Michele. The excuse had been shit. He wanted me alone so he could dole out whatever punishment he’d finally decided on. He hadn’t been given the chance all day. I’d gone out of my way to avoid him since he’d left my bunk.

  Maybe it’d been just to piss him off a little more, but I’d never admit it to anyone.

  “He say how many?” I asked, attempting to keep my voice level.

  “Nah.” Chris shook his head. “Night.”

  “Night.”

  He disappeared down the hall toward his bunk. My heartbeat quickened and my thoughts became frantic, but first things first. I needed towels.

  * * * *

  By the time I made it to his door, I’d begun to shake. No matter how I tried to steady myself, I had no doubt of what awaited me on the other side of the barrier.

  After a few deep breaths, I knocked. Michele called for me to enter.

  He stood in the center of the room, his arms crossed and an unreadable expression marring his perfect face. He glanced at the pair of towels I held then jerked his head toward the bed.

  “Set them down there.”

  I did as he said and laid them on the foot of the California King, all the while wondering if and when he planned to attack. I didn’t have to wait long. No sooner than I’d placed the towels on the mattress did he loom behind me.

  “Give me your belt.”

  The strange command took a moment to sink in. “What?”

  He had a hold of the back of my neck in an instant, clasping it in his strong fingers. I gasped while a bolt of pleasure shot down my spine. I became rigid.

  Michele nuzzled into the crook of my neck, his mouth centimeters from my ear.

  “Give me your belt.”

  I did as I was told and unfastened it. Still unable to look behind me, I handed it to him over my shoulder.

  “Bene,” he said.

  He took the strip of leather and remained close—but removed his hand from my neck.

  “Tell me, bella,” he said. “When was the last time you were whipped?”

  I turned on my heel. Michele had been in the process of folding my belt in his large hands. He peered at me through his lashes, a wicked glint shimmering in his eyes. It’d been the same fire when he was in my bunk. He must have been thinking about his plan for hours.

  Seconds went by without an answer. I couldn’t find the words, and the prospect of being spanked by Michele again had short-circuited my brain.

  Michele snapped my belt at me, filling the room with the crack of leather against leather and causing me to jump.

  “Remove your shorts and bend over the edge of the bed.”

  “What?” I don’t know how I’d managed to speak. I’d thought the lump of excitement growing in my throat would’ve made it impossible.

  His response had been another harsh snap of my belt.

  I complied faster than I normally would have, unbuttoning my shorts and sliding them down in front of a man I barely knew, yet somehow desired more than I thought possible. And that knowledge, or lack thereof, hadn’t stopped me. If anything, it made the moment more exciting.

  Once past my hips, my shorts fell to the floor uninhibited. Michele said nothing while he twirled his index finger, a silent command for me to turn around. I did.

  Panties would have done nothing to stop the thin leather. A thong, the garment I’d chosen to wear that day, would do even less and ensured my ass remained bare.

  I bent forward. My heart racing and body tingling, I planted my hands against the mattress, resting at a perfect angle.

  And there I stood for one minute, two and perhaps even three. The soft, steady tick of a clock’s second hand remained the only sound, the only indicator of passing time. I’d been bent over for so long that I began to question whether or not he intended to do anything at all.

  Crack!

  The belt struck my ass hard, sending biting pain down the backs of my legs. It stole the air from my lungs and made drawing in a breath almost impossible. The shock of it, the pain of it, caused me to vibrate with immediate pleasure.

  He’d been as methodical in his delivery as I remembered and waited long enough for a welt to form before he brought the belt down again. The muscles in my legs trembled and my arms gave out. Soon my chest was pressed against the bed, my ass left high in the air and prime for spanking.

  Again and again, and again, Michele lashed me, adding layers to the pain. I’d buried my face in the blanket, refusing to cry out, to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had begun to break me. I would hold out for as long as possible.

  I gasped when he ran the flat of his hand over the curve of my ass. Any other time, it might have been too delicate to notice, but with my skin inflamed and raw, it might as well have been a thousand needles.

  “Are you ready to apologize?” he asked in a voice that told me he was more than prepared to keep going.

  I didn’t reply. Instead, I focused on steadying my breathing while he touched me.

  “You’re lucky you wear shorts.” His hand traveled further south. Michele sucked in a sharp breath when he massaged the backs of my thighs reverently. “These would be lovely red and pink.”

  He continued to rub my legs, to pinch and squeeze them in his large hand. My eyes drifted shut while he traced a line up the back of my thigh at an agonizing pace.

  “Spread your legs, bella.” His voice had become rich and thick.

  I complied, parting them as best I could with my shorts clinging to my ankles. Without the slightest hesitation, he slid his fingers between my thighs and groaned. I gasped as they glided across my folds, aided by the excitement he’d caused.

  Michele said something I couldn’t understand, a string of Italian that rolled from his tongue. With only the tone to guide me, I assumed that he was happy and turned on.

  I sank into the sensation of his digits and bucked when he grazed my clit. Michele let out a sinister chuckle. Setting my belt down on the bed beside me, he held my hip in place and went to work.

  Keeping his fingers in the perfect position, Michele devoted all his attention to my clit. It’d been so deprived, so neglected, that the slightest affection nearly caused my eyes to cross.

  “Oh, God,” I moaned, burying my face into the comforter.

  Spurred on by my response, his actions increased. My world spun, and my toes curled within my shoes.

  “Don’t stop.” My resolve was crumbling, taking with it my ability to stay silent.

  “Does it feel good, bella?” he asked while he increased his affection.

  “Yes,” I whimpered. Becoming consumed in the sensation, my hips began to gyrate, meeting him in stride. “So good.”

  He groaned once more, another happy, approving sound that I found I needed to hear. I liked that I pleased him with my reaction. Loved it, in fact. And he reciprocated by focusing all his affection on my sensitive bud.

  But as I lost myself, as I reached the crest of an orgasm, he retracted his hand.

  I couldn’t keep my disappointment to myself, my protest loud enough for him to hear. Michele didn’t seem bothered, leaning over me to whisper into my ear. His slacks scraped the raw flesh of my ass, sending new sparks of pain racing up my spine.

  “I need both hands to punish you,” he said. Taking hold of my wrist, he guided my hand between my legs, slipping my fingers beneath my panties. He let out a contented sigh while we worked in tandem. “You do not.”

  Michele stepped back once again, leaving me to myself. I had no intentions of stopping, more than willing to bring about my own ends, though I would have preferred he be the reason.

  “Tre more should do it, yes?”

  He gave me no chance to answer before the belt sliced across my backside again. I panted, struggling to take in one breath after another. My legs ached, desperately begging me to either sit down or stand upright, and all the while my fingers continued to stroke. The intense pain and pleasure swelled inside me.

  He whipped me again. I whimpered and my hand moved faster. While I was panting and struggling to reach the end, he brought the belt down one final time across my ass. The sharp pain caused my clit to throb. I’d been so close.

  “Don’t stop,” I muttered, my free hand clutching at the blanket.

  Michele said nothing as he slapped me again. I cried out.

  Fuck, so close!

  “Again,” I begged.

  He obliged. My hand moved even faster.

  “Again!”

  Michele brought the belt against my skin harder than he had previously, and it’d been enough. The sound that escaped me could have only been considered a wail of pleasure, so unexpected and loud that I bit down on the comforter to silence myself.

  Blinding ecstasy surged in every vein. My heart wanted to explode within my chest and breathing had become all but impossible.

  I shivered and trembled, squeezing my thighs together as I rode the waves of euphoria. My legs gave out, and unable to support my weight, I crumbled to the floor, dragging the blanket down with me.

  There was no way for me to know how long I sat there, left reeling with tears welling in my eyes.

  At some point, strong hands lifted me to my feet, and I somehow found enough balance to stand. Michele squatted down and tugged my shorts up. He was tender as he moved, but when he reached my ass, he placed a playful bite on my right cheek. It’d been lusciously cruel and forced a hiss through my teeth.

  When the shorts rested on my hips once more, I buttoned them and turned to face him. He stared down at me with an expression stuck between excited, frustrated and sympathetic. I could tell he wondered if he’d gone too far.

  Eyes locked, I reached for my belt, which he freely gave, and as I threaded it on, I smirked at him. The wave of relief had been subtle but softened his entire demeanor.

  After I’d buckled my belt and tucked my shirt back in, I blinked the tears out of my eyes. They’d gathered during the spanking and were finally given the chance to fall. With the back of his curled index finger, Michele swept the trails away.

  “Goodnight, Mr. Sacchi.”

  He smiled, placing his hands into his pockets as he stepped back. “Buona notte, tesorina mia.”

  I stared at him, wondering what he’d said to me and whether or not he planned to tell me. I recognized goodnight. He’d said it often enough, and it resembled the same in other languages, but I didn’t know what tesorina meant.