Lethal Sin (Dangerous Games Book 1) (3 page)

You have a job to do. She’s a job.

“To tell me where Callahan is.”

She laughed, a strangely bright sound in his house that he wished he could bottle to hear again even as she taunted him. “You’re going to need to do a lot more than hold a belt ten feet away from me to get me to tell you shit.”

“Oh, really?” Mateo moved towards her, measuring his steps so that he could watch as each of her muscles twitched in anticipation of what he would do to her. This one was smarter than any of the others – she had no disillusions of his intent. She knew he was going to hurt her, and yet she was still standing on her own two feet, not running, but facing off with him like she was challenging him to do his worst. Snapping the thick leather across his palm made her jerk back slightly, and he smiled. “Well, I can tell you that I have no plans of just holding this strap.”

“If you want
me
to spank you with it, you’re going to need to uncuff me. I’ve never done the dominatrix thing, but if it will get me out of here I’ll do my best.” She smiled, tossing her hair back over her shoulder, her voice taking on an irritating sultry quality. “Has someone been a bad boy?”

The insinuation that he wanted
her
to dominate
him
made an inner part of him roar and he stomped towards her. Her confident gaze flickered just before he grabbed her hair and pushed her back against the wall, crushing her against it with his weight. The soft yelp that escaped her as the cuffs dug painfully into her arms made him instantly hard again. “Want to rethink how you’d like to talk to me?”

“Not particularly,” she groaned, and then she tried to bring her knee up into his crotch. He twisted his hips to block her, and then she brought her boot down hard into his ankle. It was, honestly, only luck and reflexes that made him divert her kick so that it just scraped down his pant leg, likely leaving behind a vicious scratch. Mateo gripped her hair harder and immediately second-guessed his decision to press himself against her so quickly, because her curves were messing with his head, and he hadn’t even begun to try and get the information his boss needed from her.

She’s just a job
.

The words repeated in his head, over and over, until he finally felt centered enough to jerk her forward off the wall and push her towards the spanking bench. She tried to pull back, to halt his progress with her, but when it only resulted in a sharper pull to her hair and an unpleasant angle to her neck, she eventually relented. Stopping her just in front of the spanking bench he leaned down to speak directly into her ear, “To be honest, I don’t care how you tell me what I want to know, just as long as you give me what I need. If you’re screaming while you do it that only makes my day a little better.”

“Asshole,” she mumbled and he chuckled a little as he bent her over the spanking bench, laying her lithe body along the central padded section.

“Put your knees up on the pads on either side.” He delivered it like a command, and it was a voice he was used to women, and most men, obeying – but she didn’t even twitch. With a sigh he shoved her face down on the center pad and dropped the strap so he could grab her leg behind the knee and lift it up. When she struggled he pinched her inner thigh hard. She jumped, but it was all the surprise he needed to get her in place. Keeping a strong grip in her hair he shifted to the other side and repeated it.

Fuck
.

She looked perfect laid across his spanking bench. Her ass high in the air, her legs spread wide to keep her balanced atop it. It would be even better if she were naked, but
that
was a whole different step to his process and as much as he wanted it he reined himself in and focused on the long zipper of her boot. With his free hand he dragged it down slowly, letting the sound fill the space so she had no choice but to be aware that he was removing her clothing piece by piece.

Her fists clenched into tight balls in the small of her back and he grinned, tugging off her boot with a quick jerk before tossing it aside. Mateo trailed his hand up her calf, brushing her thigh with his fingertips as he moved behind her. He released her hair as he did the same to the other shoe, and from his new position he could clearly see that her eyes were shut tight.

This was bothering her more than she would admit.

“Listen.” He tossed her boot to meet its mate before leaning down to scoop up the nylon loop that would hold her in place for him. “Mr. Scarpa only wants to know where Mr. Callahan is set up. You tell me, and I can make this all be over real quick.”

She laughed. “Offering to kill me already? What happened to the long game?” Her blue-gray eyes were open again and she angled her head so she could look up at him. All of that blonde hair was in her face and he leaned over to brush it back.

“Oh, doll face, I’m an old pro at the long game. In fact, I’m looking forward to the long game with this sweet ass of yours.” Mateo smiled as her grin faltered and he tightened the nylon strap with a swift tug, locking her leg in place. He turned away and focused on her other ankle, catching it in the air as she tried to plant it on the floor beside her. It didn’t take long before he had her other leg tethered to the spanking bench, and with her wrists bound behind her back she had no choice but to shift forward to give herself a little more balance.

“If you think this is all it takes to get me to talk, you’re mistaken.” The girl’s voice had a bit more strain in it than it had earlier, but that could be attributed to her position on the bench and not necessarily her situation.

Damn, she’s feisty.

Everything about her made him want to control her, to force her to submit. A feral growl rumbled in his chest, but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He needed to be smart right now, not let her trip him up, and that meant thinking with the head on his shoulders and not the one straining the front of his pants.

Opening his eyes again, he spoke softly. “Honestly, I’m hoping you hold out as long as you can stand it, because this is going to be fun.” Reaching into his pocket he flicked open his knife again and the sound of it clicking made her thighs tense. His cock practically knocked against his fly, begging to be released, and he had to take a breath to suppress the urge to take her.

Not yet.

It took no effort at all after he flipped her skirt up to shred her tights to nothing, eventually tucking his knife away so he could tear the fragile material with his bare hands to reveal her long, tanned legs.

She had the smallest scrap of fabric covering her pussy, a black lace thong that framed her ass like the piece of art that it was. Well, it was
about
to be art once he added a few new strokes to the canvas.

Finally, he scooped the leather of the strap back into his hand and tested the flex of it again. With no warning he brought his arm back and landed the first strike across both ass cheeks, and she let out a short yelp through clenched teeth. The second and third strikes landed progressively lower, but she had locked herself down, breathing hard through her nose so that she wouldn’t make a peep.

That was fine, if she wanted to play hardball he was the man for the job.

The pain was searing. It wasn’t anything like a punch to the ribs, or a kick taken during a hand-to-hand fight. This was sharp, hot, and she was helpless to stop it or defend against it tethered to his fucking furniture like a sacrifice for some long-forgotten primordial god.

In this case, it was more like she was a sacrifice for Benito Scarpa, head bastard of the Italians.

This
was why she had always refused to pick sides before. Being a free agent meant she had no real enemies. Hell, she’d even done a surveillance and info grab job for the man five years before. Scarpa didn’t fuck around, but he paid on time and he was honest – she’d
thought
they had left on solid terms, but whatever help she’d provided him and his enterprise had clearly not been enough to afford her any leeway under the current circumstances. 

Another snap of the leather across her ass had her twisting, digging her nails into her palms as the sharp sting bled into the pulsing heat across her skin. Camille’s cheek was pressed hard into the padded two by four underneath her, and she tried not to tense as she heard the next whip of the strap through the air, but by the time it landed she was locked up in expectation – and that only made it hurt worse. Groaning low she turned her head to the other side, straining her abs to give her the space to do it since her arms couldn’t do anything. Even her legs were useless on this damned contraption. She had tried to pull against the bindings on her ankles, but it had made no difference and he’d landed the next strike just a little harder as if that was going to stop her trying.

The ache was constant now, building on top of itself as a new, burning lash landed just where her ass met her thighs and tears pricked the edges of her eyes as she bit down on a cry.

She was
not
going to give him the satisfaction of knowing this hurt. Even when her skin felt bruised and fiery at the same time, and the palms of her hands ached from the force of driving her nails into them.

A second later his warm hand was cupping her ass, squeezing the flesh until the welts woke up anew and she squirmed despite her best efforts to stay still. “Ready to talk yet?” His voice was sinfully dark, a growl appropriate for a room like this.

Camille just clenched her jaw tighter, suppressing the urge to fight as his fingers toyed with the waist of her panties. As exposed as she was in this position, she was sure the thin scrap of lace that formed the thong was doing very little to give her modesty, but it was still
something
.

She wasn’t an idiot though. She knew he was going to fuck her. She knew it like prey knew when it was being hunted by a predator. It was just a matter of time, and for some reason that thought didn’t summon the kind of base fear she had expected. Instead, as his fingers slid beneath the lace and stroked her pussy, Camille was only aware of just how soaked she was, and of the myriad ways in which the heat from her ass and all her aches were focusing between her thighs and causing her clit to pound.

“You’re wet.” Mateo’s voice sounded as astonished as she felt, and a foreign blush crept up her chest, scalding her cheeks as if she were some virginal teen. He dipped one finger inside her and she instantly clenched around the invasion. “Tell me… are you enjoying this?”

“Maybe you
are
an idiot,” Camille muttered, struggling to keep her voice even as he dragged the wetness over her clit and began a slow, torturous rhythm that made her hips want to press forward.

“You can say whatever you like, but your body is telling the truth.” Mateo sped up his touch and she gasped before she caught herself, clenching her jaw together to fight the urge to moan as sparks coiled up her spine. His mouth landed on her waist where her shirt had ridden up, and he licked at the exposed skin before nipping it sharply with his teeth. Just as the pleasure was starting to override the reality of her situation, he suddenly pulled his hand back, leaving her breathing hard and craving that last little nudge that would send her tumbling into orgasm. “Tell me where he is and I’ll make you come.”

As much as she wanted to scream, she forced herself to laugh. “Wow, you really are overconfident, aren’t you?”

Stepping around to the side she was facing he crouched down in front of her, a devilish smile tugging at his lips. He slipped his middle finger slowly between his lips, tasting her, and a hot rush flooded down her spine at the way his dark gaze remained locked on hers. “You’re delicious, girl. Here, taste.”

He grabbed her face hard, digging his fingers into her cheeks to pry her jaw open and then he slid two of his fingers inside her mouth. The tangy sweetness of her juices flooded her tongue and she tried to jerk her head back, but he held her firm, making her cheeks ache from the strain. Then he pulled his hand away and released her, standing up to tower over her.

“I can be patient. Maybe you just need a little time to think over your situation, let it all… settle in.” As he said the last words he ran his hand over the welts across her ass, squeezing them firmly.

“I promise. Nothing you do is going to make me tell you where he is.”

Hell, if she
could
tell him, she would – but some things were worth more than your own pathetic life. For the millionth time Camille cursed Patrick Callahan, and she dreamed of driving a knife into his stomach so he’d die slow with plenty of time to know exactly who had killed him, and
why
.