His Queen of Clubs (Vegas Underground 6)

When he sets me down, I slap his face.

Or at least I try to. He moves lightning fast and catches my wrist. “No. Don’t make it worse for yourself. You are already in so much trouble.”

Vlad

I push Alessia into the passenger seat of the car. “Don’t run. Don’t fucking open this door. Do not test my temper.”

Looks like she’s back to being my prisoner.

I won’t pretend I won’t love stripping her bare and tying her up. I won’t pretend I won’t love having her at my mercy.

But this is a huge fucking setback as far as our relationship goes.

And I can’t believe I’m even thinking that word. We don’t have a fucking relationship. She’s my prisoner. She may be my wife, but it wasn’t by choice. I know that. I need to stop pretending any different.

“You had your insulin with you?” I demand. I already know the answer. She has jack shit on her, and that’s what really upsets me.

What if the police hadn’t been driving by? What if she’d been out here for hours? I’ve already seen how breathless she gets when hiking. She has no food on her, no insulin. She could have fucking died.

“No,” she admits with a grumble. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she’s acting sullen, but I saw her hands shake when she got out of the police car. She’s afraid of me.

I tear back to my place. “Don’t move,” I growl when the car stops. I get out and stalk around. Open her door and pull her out. Hoist her over my shoulder again.

Control issues.

Yeah, I have them.

Sue me.

Being in control of Alessia intoxicates me. I tried to do things the right way. Give her space. Let her adapt.

Now she needs a strong hand.

I seem to recall she enjoys it, so I don’t have to feel bad.

I carry her into my room and drop her on her feet. The kittens tumble out of their basket mewling, but we both ignore them. Holding her gaze, I unbuckle my belt and pull it from the loops.

Her eyes widen and she stumbles back, breath short.

“Clothes off.” My command is short and harsh.

She must be genuinely afraid, because I watch the defiance drain away. She yanks her t-shirt over her head and throws it on the floor. Kicks off the sneakers next. Then the jeans come down.

“All of it,” I order when she stops.

Lips tight, she unsnaps her bra and lets it fall to the floor. I don’t wait for the panties. I decide I want to strip her of those myself. I reach for her and she flinches, but I catch her wrist and drag her body up to mine.

“Hands together,” I murmur, like this is love not war.

Perhaps it is.

Her bare breasts graze my ribs. She’s panting, eyes dilated wide.

Not narrowed. Fear causes the pupils to narrow. Excitement causes them to dilate.

My cock, already swollen in my jeans, gets chubbier. I pull her wrists up, my touch gentle now. Without looking away from her lovely, startled doe eyes, I toss one end of my belt over the rafter on the ceiling and pull the end of the strap through the buckle so it’s caught tight.

I lift her unbound wrists to the end of the belt. “You hold this strap. You let go, I take the strap down and use it on your ass. Understand?”

“Vlad.” There’s a pleading quality to her voice that I rather love.

I put a knuckle under her chin. “Do you understand?”

“Fine. Yes. I understand.” She reaches up to grip the end of the belt. It lifts and separates her breasts in the most alluring way.

I hook my thumbs in her panties and take my time slowly pulling them down as I drop to a crouch in front of her. She steps out of them and I slap her legs open. “Spread them, printsessa.”

She widens them a foot apart. I slap higher, catching her inner thigh. “Wider.”

Her belly shudders as she opens them further.

I rub two fingers between her legs, gratified to find her wet. “You’re excited about your punishment.”

She makes a dissenting noise, but doesn’t actually speak.

I slap lightly over her clit and she mewls softly, skittering her legs back together.

“Open them.” I put enough sharp dissatisfaction in my tone that she responds instinctively, immediately opening her legs.

I come to stand, dragging my fingertips up her inner thigh as I do, then palming her ass in a rough squeeze. I stroll around behind her and grip her hips. “Push that ass out. Arch your back. If you hold your position like a good girl, I will only use my hand.”

This time the mewl is unmistakable.

And adorable.

I smack one side of her ass, hard.

She shivers.

I smack the other side.

“There is no running away, Alessia,” I tell her, holding her hip with one hand and applying my hand with more purpose.