Taming Seraphine

SERAPHINE

I’ve been grinding against this mattress for the last ten minutes, trying something—anything—to create a little friction. All I’ve managed is to build myself up to a heightened state of arousal that quickly fades.

Tears prick the corners of my eyes. Leroi got me so worked up with that spanking, and the way his fingers skimmed so close to where I needed him most was maddening.

I knew he was special, knew he could be the one to give me my first orgasm. What I didn’t know was the extent of his cruelty. I felt his thick erection pressed into my side as he spanked my ass, but he kept it in his pants. Other men would have escalated, but Leroi remained so cool and in control, even though my body begged him for more.

He’s unreachable, yet I’ve never felt this way for any man. I’m beginning to rethink whether I want to be trained by him. Right now, all I want to do is make him scream. Or bleed.

Did he really expect me to hand over the last of my weapons?

I roll my hips, my mind replaying those gentle caresses in between the stinging slaps. No one has ever touched me in a way that didn’t make my skin crawl, let alone deliver such pleasure. They usually just stick their fingers where they’re not wanted, but Leroi teased me to a fever pitch and left me here to simmer.

Sweat breaks out across my skin. I’ve been trying to work myself up to an orgasm and all I’m getting is frustration. He could have at least left me with my hands tied around my front.

“Bastard,” I sob, envisioning the pretty patterns I’ll carve into his skin.

The door swings open, and I freeze.

“Who’s a bastard?” asks a deep voice that makes my spine tingle and my clit pulse.

I turn my head, finding Leroi standing in the doorway, still dressed in black. He tilts his head, his gaze assessing.

“You left me here to suffer.” I twist my body to the side.

He closes the distance, and heat blooms across my cheeks. How long was he standing behind the door, listening to me trying—and failing—to get some pleasure?

Before I can say anything else, he takes my shoulder and turns me onto my back. The new position stretches my arms underneath me and my back arches, displaying my tightened pert nipples. Leroi quirks a brow, “I left you here to learn a lesson, and it seems like you haven’t.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

He raises his brows. “For?”

“I lied about hiding weapons.” My throat dries, and I swallow hard. “And for disobeying when you told me to stay in my room.”

“Is that all?” he asks, still stern.

“And for calling you a bastard,” I murmur.

He draws back. “Turn around.”

My heart beats so hard its vibrations reach my core. I roll onto my front, all the while trying to keep eye contact. Maybe if I’m convincing enough, he’ll accept my apology and finish what he started.

He crouches by the bed, but instead of reaching for my ass, he slides his fingers through my hair. His touch is gentle, soothing, and warmer than expected, considering I’m being punished. My lips part with a gasp. What is he doing?

Just as I’m about to ask, he trails his fingers down my back, setting my skin alight. I exhale a breathy sigh, my core clenching in anticipation. As he reaches the base of my spine, my legs part, a silent invitation for him to rub circles around my clit.

“Still wet?” he asks, his voice hoarse.

“Yes, sir.”

I meet his eyes, and they’re even darker than before. My gaze trails down his muscular body and settles on the bulge straining against his pants. He’s hard for me, and that gives me courage to speak.

“Please, touch me,” I say.

“What makes you think you deserve a reward?” he asks.

The words dry up in my throat.

“I’m going to ask you once, and I want you to tell me the truth. Have you hidden any more weapons?”

“Yes,” I confess before I can stop myself.

Without another word, he unfastens the buckles of my wrist binder, eases one arm out of the leather shackle, and massages around my shoulder. I melt into his touch. I hadn’t realized the strain I was under until he released the restraints. Next, he frees the other arm and repeats the soothing ministration on my tight muscles.

But there’s one more muscle that’s still in need of his attention.

As he helps me up to sitting, I press my chest against his and whisper, “I’m sorry. Please, sir. Touch me.”

He cups my face in his large hands. “You took your punishment very well, but I don’t want to train you into thinking that disobedience is acceptable. Do you understand?”

I shake my head.

“Obedience and good behavior are rewarded.” He slides the pad of his thumb over my cheekbone, a warm trail follows his touch, and my skin tingles. “Bad girls who don’t follow the rules go to bed with spanked asses and no orgasms.”

I whimper at the unfairness, even as heat flickers between my legs.“But I told you about my past. Isn’t that worth a reward?”

He stares into my eyes, looking for me to answer that question for myself.

“What if I gave you all the weapons I’m hiding?”

“That would be a start on making amends.” He steps back, giving me space.

I walk to the ensuite, lift the lid off the toilet tank, and pull out two knives I took from the dead men. By the time I turn back, Leroi is already standing in the doorway.

“Is that the last of them?” he asks.

“Yes, including the gun I left on the table.”

He nods. “Apology accepted. Put on some clothes and join me for dinner.”

The next morning, I’m in front of the chopping board, slicing through every item in Leroi’s refrigerator. All the sharp blades are gone, and all I have is a dull table knife. Stacks of vegetables pile on the counter, looking like they’ve fallen victim to a slasher.

I sat through an entire meal last night and ate everything on my plate, thinking that he would lead me back to the bedroom and give me an orgasm for my good behavior. At the end of the evening, he gathered up all my weapons, locked them in his armory, told me to get some sleep, and left me there. Alone and unsatisfied.

My finger aches from the heavy duty slicing. The only thing keeping me going is imagining each vegetable I hack up as one of Leroi’s body parts.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

I whirl around, finding him leaning against the doorframe, shirtless and in a pair of gray sweatpants. My gaze wanders down the planes of his chest, over the V-shaped muscles at his hips, before resting on the outline of his penis bulging through the fabric.

It’s long and thick and perfectly shaped with a bulbous crown. My breath quickens and my fingers close around the table knife. Heat pools between my legs, and I swallow. By the time I tear my gaze back to his face, he’s raising a brow.

Right. He asked a question.

“There’s nothing to eat, so I had to cut these vegetables.”

The corners of his lips twitch. “Do you answer every question with an accusation?”

“Maybe if you’d given me what I wanted last night, I wouldn’t have to imagine these vegetables were you.” I pick up a zucchini and start slicing it.

He steps closer, and his nearness makes my skin break out in a sweat. I clutch the knife and straighten.

“I have something for you.” He reaches around me for a wok and places it on the stove, then he opens the refrigerator and retrieves a bottle of oil.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Making breakfast with the proceeds of your massacre.” He pours a splash of liquid into the wok and turns on the flame before giving my chopped vegetables a pointed glance. “Is there anything in there I should know about?”

It takes a second for his comment to fully register, and my cheeks burn. He won’t let me forget about that time I sliced through that man’s dick.

“I wasn’t…” I shake my head, refusing to be flustered. “That depends on what kind of meat you keep in your fridge.”

Leroi snorts. It’s the gentlest of sounds, his expression unchanged, and I can’t help but feel a thrill at having amused him. He reaches for the cut vegetables and throws them into the wok, creating an explosion of sizzling aromas.

He flicks his head toward the refrigerator. “Get a box of eggs, some soy sauce, and start cracking them into the mixture.”

I do as he says, not quite believing I’m making an omelet in a strange apartment and with a hitman who hasn’t laid a hand on me apart from a spanking, even though he’s seen me naked.

Leroi directs me to add some herbs to the bubbling mixture of eggs and vegetables, and the kitchen fills with the scent of cooking.

It’s so surreal that for a minute, I wonder if I’m trapped in a fever dream, still trapped in the basement. I can’t believe I’m free. Dad is dead and so are his bastard sons, but somehow it’s true. Yet I can’t even enjoy this moment because it’s been ages since I saw any footage of Gabriel.

“What’s wrong?” Leroi asks.

“I’m thinking of my brother.”

“We can look through the leads I’ve gathered while we eat.”

“You’ve found something?” I ask.

He nods. “Miko gathered photos of every guard who worked for Capello in the past six years. You should recognize some of them from the night they assaulted your mother.”

My shoulders stiffen, my skin breaks out in goosebumps, despite the kitchen’s heat. I hold my face into a neutral mask and ask, “What about Pietro?”

“The man who took you to your grandmother?” Leroi asks with a frown.

“No, our driver was Felix. Pietro worked for the twins. He’s the one who drove me to my assignments.”

He tilts his head. “Assignments?”

I feel myself pale, every ounce of blood draining from my face and racing toward my frantically beating heart. My spine stiffens, and my empty stomach twists into knots. I’m not supposed to tell anyone what Dad and the twins used me for.