Bound, Spanked and Loved: Fourteen Kinky Valentine's Day Stories (18 page)

“I’ll be right there.”

“We’ll be waiting.” He hit end and looked down at the struggling thief. “Enough.” He gave her face a light slap—not with any force, just enough to establish dominance.

Her eyes widened in shock, and suddenly her body fought him in a different way, her hips arching, breasts thrusting toward the ceiling.

Oh, hell yeah.
She liked being his prisoner. The situation that had been a pain in his ass just became a lot more interesting.

And
da-yum
, she didn’t appear to be wearing anything under her skintight black ninja clothes. Her nipples poked up under the thin fabric.

It took all his self-control not to pinch them. He gave his head a quick shake to clear it. “What’s your name, ninja girl?”

She pressed her lips together.

“How many of you are there?”

She shook her head, but then her brow furrowed, as if she questioned the wisdom of admitting that.

“No others?”

Her eyes jumped around, pupils small. Yep, definitely worried. She must realize if he wanted to take matters into his own hands, no one would even know where to look for her. The dominant in him didn’t mind her afraid, but the gentleman balked a little.

Still, she had stolen from their guests, threatening to ruin their elite Valentine’s Day ball/fundraiser and cause the Magnifico a world of bad publicity. The only way his brother Joe had been able to suppress the story, so far, was with his assurances to his guests that he’d recover their stolen property before the weekend was through.

“Do you know who I am?”

She licked her dry lips. “One of the Jamison twins, I presume.” Her voice sounded cultured, with a husky quality that reverberated throughout his body, particularly his cock.

“I’m Alex. My brother and I are not happy you chose our casino for your heist.” He resisted the urge to brush the backs of his fingers along her cheek to see if her skin was as soft and smooth as it appeared.

“It wasn’t personal.”

He lifted his brows. “Wasn’t it? Maybe not with us, but you seemed to have a relationship with that necklace.” He unclipped the bag from her waist and emptied the contents on the carpet beside her.

Anger and shame flitted across her face when he displayed the ridiculously expensive cascade of sapphires and diamonds.

“What does this mean to you?”

She turned her face to the side, looking away from him.

He tucked the necklace back in its velvet pouch and slid it into his pocket.

Her eyes followed the movement.

“I need a little more cooperation from you than that, little thief. Joe is on his way up here, and he can be a real bastard when he’s crossed.”

Wariness returned to her gaze. “What are you going to do with me?”

“After you return the other jewels? We’ll negotiate an appropriate
punishment
.” He enunciated the word punishment, watching for her reaction.

Her eyes dilated, and the glorious hip-thrust happened again.

Oh hell, yes.
He couldn’t believe this delicious little morsel had dropped into their laps. She responded to dominance, and her transgressions laid the groundwork for a perfect punishment/slave scenario. If she was into it, of course. He liked the illusion of non-consent, not actual.

He climbed off and lifted her to stand, gripping her upper arms. They were slender but muscled, like her legs, which...
yeah.
He wanted those long limbs wrapped around his waist while he drove into her until she screamed.

In the kitchen, he plunked her down on a wooden chair and zip-tied her ankles to the legs of the chair with her thighs spread wide. The bright light flicked on when he hit the switch. He returned to study her.

She appeared young, no more than twenty-five, with a model-perfect face—peaches and cream skin and straight white teeth. She glared up at him, her baby blues defiant, but her nipples still protruded and the gusset of her skintight pants was wet. Yep, little ninja girl liked being manhandled.

He pulled out his camera and took a picture of her face.

“Hey, what are you doing?” She rocked the chair forward.

“Documenting.” He pushed it back, placing his foot on the seat between her legs and leaving it there. Finding out her identity came first. They needed to know who they were dealing with. Did she have priors? Known accomplices?

She certainly didn’t seem like any ordinary thief—but were thieves of her caliber ever ordinary? It took brains and talent to succeed at the heists she’d already completed. He texted the photo to Darryl, their security technician, to run with his face recognition software.

She swallowed and rubbed her lips together.

He made a show of rolling up his sleeves, as if he was about to get down and dirty with her. A smear of blood stained one of his cuffs. His gaze jerked back to his little cat burglar, sweeping over her body. Her shirt appeared ripped under her right arm.

He frowned, drawing closer to examine her. Catching sight of blood, he grasped the edge and tore it open, rending the fabric all the way to the collar and across to the other sleeve.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, wrestling with her bonds. The shirt hung open like a jacket, exposing her breasts. Perfect, peach-tipped breasts.

“Don’t worry, little ninja, Rape wasn’t part of my plan. I wanted to get a look at that cut of yours.” A long gash ran down her side, and fresh blood seeped from it.

He crouched beside her, his hand fitted around her throat to prevent her from head-butting him. “I promise I won’t give you my cock until you beg for it.”

*****

I
n your dreams, asshole.

Except...yeah. The hand caging her neck had her wetter than she’d been in her entire life. She loved the controlling way he handled her. Hurt-y without harming.

He examined the stinging gash running down her side. It wasn’t deep, but the damn thing kept bleeding. He frowned. “Did I do this?”

Would he be sorry if he had? She suspected he would.

“No.”

The beep of the keycard sounded from front door.

“We’re in the kitchen,” Alex called out.

His twin strolled in, equally sexy in a more sophisticated way. They weren’t identical, but yes, they were certainly twins. Joe appeared clean-shaven and serious where Alex sported an easy, lopsided smile with laugh lines around his eyes. The muscles decorating his broad shoulders were a little more pronounced, not that Joe’s weren’t defined.

Joe gave her a cool, assessing look. Her heart thudded against her ribs. What would they do with her? Alex had mentioned punishment.

She should have researched these guys better. Did they operate outside the law like mobsters? She sure as hell hoped their brand of punishment wasn’t ripping off her fingernails or beating her to death with a sandbag.

“Look who I found rooting through your safe,” Alex said.

Joe walked around her chair, disappearing from her field of vision. When he reemerged, he folded his arms across his chest. “Well, that’s hot.”

She flushed. Oh God, she was so fucked. The Jamison brothers oozed sex appeal and screamed danger. One had already been too much to handle, and now they were both staring down at her like hungry lions.

Her skin prickled with heat.

“Joe, meet our little cat burglar. Ninja girl, Joe, my brother, in case you hadn’t guessed.”

“Watch her while I get something to clean up her cut,” Alex said. He disappeared, taking his larger-than-life presence with him and leaving her alone in their kitchen with the more frightening brother.

Joe filled a glass with ice water and put a straw in it then pushed it between her lips. “Drink.”

The unexpected gesture threw her off-balance. She wanted to refuse—not to cooperate with them in anything, even this—but she’d been thirsty back when she’d been crawling in the air ducts. Now, she was downright parched. She parted her lips and took the straw between them. The cool liquid soothed her dry throat and mouth. She drank down the entire glass. Great, in thirty minutes she’d have to pee and they’d probably still have her zip-tied to a chair. What a perfect torture.

“More?” he asked, holding up the empty glass.

She shook her head. “No, thanks.”

“Hungry?”

She was starving, actually, but she didn’t trust the solicitousness. This was probably one of those “good cop, bad cop” games where one brother pretends to befriend her while the other scares the shit out of her. Of course Joe was the scary one, so maybe the analogy was off. Either way, she didn’t trust him.

Joe’s phone beeped, and he pulled it out and looked at the screen then back at her with interest. He handed it to Alex when he returned.

“Interesting,” Alex said, studying her with the same open curiosity. He uncapped a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and dribbled a stream down her side.

She hissed at the burn.

“She likes pain,” Alex said.

“So I see.”

She bared her teeth, glaring and trying to figure out what made him say that.
Oh.
Her pelvis had rocked forward, and she’d arched in her chair. But that didn’t mean she
liked
pain. It just meant she
felt
pain and her body had reacted...

Alex flicked one of her exposed nipples with his thumb. It was a light touch—not sexual, more degrading than anything. She followed his gaze to look at what he saw—her nipples pebbled up in tight, stiffened buds.

Alex crouched beside her, his fingers wrapped around her throat, and dabbed the blood and peroxide with a hand towel. “She definitely likes being restrained.” He fitted a piece of gauze over the scrape and taped it in place.

“You’re nuts.”

Was
she a masochist? For the first time, she regretted foregoing her sexual education in favor of martial arts and burglary. She felt completely out of her element. Yes, she loved fighting, and that often involved pain. She relished the impact of flesh against flesh and she never minded cuts and bruises. But that didn’t mean she got off on pain...did it?

The corners of Alex’s mouth lifted in a smirk. “Am I?” He gripped both thighs, far too close to her crotch to be polite—not that tying her to a chair was polite either—and forced her legs wider. “Look who’s dripping wet.”

Her breath grew short. She didn’t dare look, afraid to see the wet spot he examined. She definitely should’ve worn panties for this job, even if they did crawl up her ass when she crept through air vents.

One of his thumbs traveled up and stopped a centimeter away from her pussy. Its heat registered and made the muscles of her pelvic floor lift and flutter, quivering at the insinuation of contact.

His blue eyes were so damn intent. Was he watching for a green light?

She ought to tell him to get his roving hands off her, but her lips wouldn’t move to speak. Maybe she just needed to know what happened next in the “girl zip-tied to a chair” scenario.

She tore her eyes away from Alex’s to find Joe watched, too, leaning casually against their kitchen counter, eyes glittering. Electricity crackled between all three of them. She arched, wriggling her hips.

“Is this pussy wet for me...for us?”

Jesus and Mary.

His finger contacted her clit through the thin fabric of her pants and made a feather-light circle around it.

She jerked, hard, not that it did any good. She literally couldn’t move.

His eyebrows lifted in a mock-stern expression. “I told you to stop struggling. Keep it up, and I’ll hogtie you. That chair is a luxury, sweetheart.”

A wave of heat swept through her at the threat. She closed her eyes and willed herself to relax.

“Good girl.” The words came softly. “We don’t want you hurt.”

“At least not by zip-ties,” Joe amended.

Her tongue struggled to speak. “How
do
you want me hurt?”

Alex’s finger returned to her clit.

She shoved her pelvis forward, pushing into his touch, needing more.

“I can think of dozens of ways I’d like to hurt you, ninja girl.” Joe’s lips curved in a sexy-sinister smile. “And all of them involve you helpless, naked, and bound.”

Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. A wash of both heat and cold spread across her body. She thought of the eyehooks in the bedroom.
Yep, kinksters.
Both of them.

“The real question is, how do
you
want us”—Alex looked over his shoulder at his brother—“to hurt you?” He removed his finger from her swollen clit, making her moan with frustration.

She’d be the first to admit her experience with men had been limited. Her father had married Savannah Duke when she was just twelve, and she’d been shipped off to a girls’ boarding school so her stepmother didn’t have to compete with her for her father’s attention.

He’d died during finals of her senior year, and Savannah—the bitch—hadn’t told her until three days later. Skye had been so pissed, so grieved, she’d disappeared to Japan to study judo. She took on an ascetic lifestyle—no men, no friends, really. She wasn’t a prude; men just hadn’t been a part of her path.

Now, quivering under the Jamison brothers’ heated stares, she wondered how she’d escaped sex all these years. Because if she didn’t scratch this itch soon, she was sure she would die on the spot.

“Are you offering me a plea bargain?” Her voice cracked.

Joe folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not offering you anything until all the stolen property is returned. Then we can negotiate appropriate punishment.”

That word again. It made her pussy contract. At this point, the stolen items were the only leverage she had for her freedom, though. She shook her head. “We bargain first. My freedom for the stolen jewels.”

Joe gave a mirthless laugh. “You’re not in the position to demand anything from us.”

She lifted her chin. “Aren’t I?”

Only she knew where the stolen jewels were hidden.

His face hardened. Alex’s lost the amused benevolence.

Okay, she didn’t want them pissed. Joe was right in that sense—she wasn’t exactly sitting in the catbird’s seat. “I have the jewels—I haven’t fenced anything, yet. But if you call the cops, you’ll never see them again.”