Page 68 of Captured Innocence
He wasn’t kidding. He truly believed he could spank me just like he’d done all those years ago, and I’d allow it. And that he could get away with it.
I was more incensed than I’d been before, pushing hard against the table but he was using the fact I was exhausted against me. When he snapped the belt free, the thick leather hitting the thinly carpeted floor, I flinched and he noticed it. Goddamn if the man wasn’t gloating.
“Don’t worry, my sweet Sophia. I’ll go easy on you this time.”
“I’m not your anything, Mattia.”
“I beg to differ; you’re the beautiful yet spoiled princess who now belongs to me.”
Spoiled. Did the asshole just call me spoiled?
He was enjoying this far too much. Meanwhile, I wanted nothing more than to scratch his eyes out. I took several deep breaths, realizing I was likely not going to be able to get out of this wretched situation. Did he not care I was starving or that I needed a shower desperately or that I still felt as if I had blood spots covering me and was wearing filthy clothes?
Evidently not.
In fact, he seemed amused, the wry smile on his face reflecting like a ray of sun in the perfectly crystal-clear glass. I was mortified that I’d lost all my will to fight, my heart thudding in my chest from the thought of being treated like a child. He folded the strap then pulled back, patting both sides of my bottom with the belt.
“I know you’ve had a rough couple of days so I’ll only issue twenty-five this go-around. However, if you continue to misbehave, the next round of punishment will be much worse.”
“There won’t be a next time, asshole,” I said through clenched teeth.
The fact he was enjoying himself would be duly noted. When I put a bullet in his brain, I’d do the same.
At least once we returned to Italy, I’d never be forced to see him again. I’d make certain of that. When he lifted his arm, the man far too dramatic, I almost laughed. The whooshing sound as the belt roared through the air caught me off guard. Somewhere inside, I knew I was holding my breath.
When he brought the thick leather down, I was surprised I didn’t feel any pain, at least not right away. It took until he delivered two more for the strange sense of being uncomfortable to drift into explosive pain.
“You will learn that following my orders is in your best interest,” Mattia continued. “I’m here to protect you, Sophia, not hurt you.”
“Then what is this?” I demanded.
“Getting your attention. I need your full cooperation if you want to get home safely.”
“Home as in Paris.”
“Not any longer. I can’t protect you there.”
He wasn’t just blowing smoke. I could hear the worry in his voice, concern that surprised me. He was a big, bad man yet he wasn’t entirely certain what was going on. I’d always known him to be a control freak, anal in everything he did. I’d never admit it but I’d always admired that in him.
The next four were brutal, so much so I dropped my head, beads of perspiration trickling down both sides of my face. “Oh, God.”
When he dared act like he was concerned, caressing my already bruised and heated skin with the rough pads of his fingers, I was floored by the number of electric vibrations tickling my senses.
“This isn’t fair.”
“Whoever taught you that anything about life was fair was an idiot.” He rolled his fingers up and down my spine, trailing them down the back of one thigh. I tensed when I heard him taking a deep breath, his strong scent of testosterone mixing with my perfume of raging desire. I bit back a moan, trying to keep my head on straight as my pussy clenched and released. No one should be as insanely gorgeous as Mattia.
In the light of the compartment, I’d been allowed to catch a better look at him if only for a few seconds. He was the epitome of gorgeous, putting on at least thirty additional pounds of all muscle since the last time I’d seen him. With his shaggy dark hair and eyes the color of rich dark chocolate tinged with flecks of gold, he could easily pass for a model on any runway. The years had made him even more rugged, dangerously gorgeous. The ugly mud he’d slapped on his face earlier hadn’t been able to hide his structured, aristocratic features including a strong brow and chiseled jaw. But he was still a dangerous man.
But I’d always been struck by his strong hands, long fingers that captured the essence of his power. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been wearing a stunning black onyx ring, the thick gold band drawing my attention as he’d twirled it in the moonlight.
He took a ragged but deep breath, fisting his hand and pulling it away. Then he continued the spanking, powering down the belt one strike after another.
I was floored that the agony took my breath away or that within seconds, tears had formed in my eyes. I wasn’t that kind of girl. Very little made me cry, my backbone strengthened from as early as I could remember when I was forced to endure hearing my brother beaten sometimes to within an inch of his life.
My father had never disciplined me with a belt, only treating me as if, given I was a girl, I didn’t matter in the least to him.
As Mattia brought the belt down five or six additional times, my moans became more intense. What I found so strange was that I was wet, excitement building, my pussy throbbing.