His Queen of Clubs (Vegas Underground 6)

I shift and twitch my inner thighs together, trying to get relief.

“You stay in the position I put you,” Vlad snaps from the bathroom, his accent thick. “If you move, I will spank you so hard you’ll feel it all the way to Russia.”

It’s ridiculous. I’m now certain he’s not going to hurt me. If this is the worst I get for trying to kill him, I’m not afraid. His biggest cruelty is leaving me here in this humiliating position, completely turned on and at his mercy.

Maybe I actually want that spanking.

I tug my elbows into my chest and shift to get my bound hands between my legs. I seriously need relief.

It’s torture to not be able to turn my hands, angle my fingers where I want them, but I rub myself over my bound fists, getting friction on my clit.

From the bathroom I hear a sharp intake of breath.

Vlad

Ty che, blyat.

I drop the bottle of superglue on the counter, transfixed by what I see on the bed.

My beautiful hostage is where I left her. Masturbating.

My dick lurches, lust rockets through me. I force myself to move slowly, to draw in a breath through my nostrils—exhale slowly through my mouth—as I walk up behind her.

“What did I tell you about moving?” My voice doesn’t sound like my own. It’s deep and rough. I slip my arm around her waist to pick up her hips and tug her arms back out, straightening them over her head.

I palm her pussy and lean over to speak in her ear. “Did I make you ache between your legs, Alessia?”

Her pussy’s dripping wet, the folds swollen and welcoming. Without intention, one of my fingers sinks into her wet heat.

She moans, undulating her hips to take me deeper.

“Do you think you deserve pleasure after what you did to me?”

A tiny whimper comes from her. Her face is pressed straight down into the mattress so I can’t see her expression, but I nip her ear, caress her folds.

My cock strains

“Apologize,” I demand.

“I’m sorry,” she says immediately.

Poor pet. I believe she is sorry. The horror on her face the moment she knifed me said everything. She doesn’t know violence. Didn’t want to perpetrate it. And that makes me admire the fuck out of her attempt. She’s brave. Strong for someone with a physical weakness. Stronger than I am, probably.

I slide a finger inside her again. She’s tight but I work a second one in.

She humps the bed.

“Beg me, zaika. Beg me and I’ll help you come,” I challenge. Her scent fills my nostrils, sweet like honey cakes.

“No,” she groans into the bed.

I still my fingers. “No?”

She shakes her head, rubbing her face over the coverlet.

Well, I’m not the dick who goes on when he’s told no. Even if her body begs without pride. I remove my hand from her wet cunt and straighten up.

And then, maybe because I’m pissed, maybe just because I still want to give her what she needs, I start spanking her again.

Hard.

She arches her back, tipping up her ass for it, parting her legs.

I should make her suffer. Endure the sexual frustration I’m experiencing. But I don’t have it in me to torture her. I spank her hard and steady for dozen strokes, then spank her pussy. Once.

Twice.

On the third time, she cries out and orgasms, her buttocks squeezing together, legs losing their footing as her toes point straight out.

If I weren’t in so much pain myself, I’d smile because I am fucking proud of myself for being the man who gets her off, even when she claims she doesn’t want it. But my testosterone rages, power and urgency ripping through me. I tear her lowered panties off her legs, then fist my fingers in her hair and use it to lift her head as I lean back over her. “Did I say you could come, Alessia?”

Her face is beautifully flushed, eyes unfocused and glassy. It takes her a moment to process my words, to find my face with her gaze. “No,” she whispers with those pouty lips.

“No. Nyet. I didn’t.” I show her the panties. “You just lost your panty privileges, too.” I drop them and reach back and slap her ass again. “Soon this pussy will belong to me. I’m the only one who gets to touch it, unless I give you permission to touch yourself. Your orgasms belong to me and me alone. If you want to come, you’ll learn to beg, on your knees with my cock down your throat. Is that clear?”

I’ve gone way too far, but I can’t seem to dial it back. My lust and frustration mingle into a potent fury.

Her throat works for a moment, then she spits out, “Fuck you.”

My lips stretch into a feral grin. “Gladly, printsessa. I’ll keep you up all night fucking.”

She pales and some of my senses return. I loosen my grip on her hair, rub away the sting on her scalp.