Captivated by the deadly mafia boss

The swats get harder and faster.

“Micah!” I wiggle more, but he only responds easily by maneuvering his leg from beneath me and trapping me between them. I can’t get away, and he’s got my wrist in such a death grip I can’t get free that way either.

“Learn this lesson well, Lena, because if we have to repeat it, you’ll be getting a taste of my belt,” he promises as he increases the spanks once again. I smack the couch cushion in front of me and try to push out of the vise his legs have me in, but it’s for naught. I’m only exhausting myself.

The tears I swore would stay behind closed lids spill down my cheeks.

“Please!” I beg as I try to throw my right hand behind me to stop the spanks if only for a moment. He captures that hand as well and now I have both hands pinned and my legs locked down. I’m completely helpless.

My ass is an inferno from his punishing hand, but he doesn’t let up. Over and over again he spanks, moving his aim even a little lower to the tops of my thighs. But I’m out of fight, I’m out of pride.

I’m crying. Openly crying into the couch, while he continues to spank me like a disobedient brat. I should have stayed in; I should have found something else to do, maybe invited Tanya and Marie over here. Instead, I tried to show him what I thought of his authority.

And now he shows me what it really means.

“It’s over, Lena,” he says between my soft sobs. The couch muffles me enough that maybe I haven’t completely embarrassed myself. The throb in my ass takes up all of my attention. How can I sit down now? I have to be black and blue and swollen.

Micah eases me up from between his legs and pulls me into his lap. I hiss as soon as the raw skin of my ass rubs against the smooth material of his trousers. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me into his chest, tucking my head beneath his chin.

I wipe the tears from my cheeks and take a slow breath in, hold for three seconds, and release.

“You did pretty good, Lena.” His compliment surprises me and I push away from his chest to look into his eyes. If he’s teasing me, I’ll lose my temper. Where there was sternness before, there’s warmth now.

“I don’t ever want to do that again.” My voice shakes, but it can’t be helped.

He breaks into a smile. “Good, then maybe we won’t have to.” He tilts his head to the side. “Except for fun.”

“Fun?” My brows furrow. “Why would that ever be fun for me?”

His arm wrapped around my torso tightens and his free hand pushes my legs apart. “Don’t fight me now, unless you want to go back over my knee.”

It’s only curiosity that keeps me obedient as he slides his hand up my thigh to my sex. With a featherlike touch, he glides his finger through my folds, flicking my clit as he removes his touch and brings his finger up to my view. My juices have soaked him.

A new heat spreads across my cheeks, and a new sort of mortification takes over when he sucks his finger and licks off my arousal.

“I…” I have nothing to say.

“It’s a good thing, Lena.” He cups my cheek, pulling me to look him in the eye again. “Once we’re married, it will be good between us. We’ll make it work.”

What is he talking about?

“You just had me over your lap and spanked me. You just… my butt hurts so much I’m not sure I’ll be able to sit tomorrow.”

He shrugs. “Maybe not. I wasn’t as hard on you as I would have been if we knew each other more.”

“More? We don’t know each other at all!” I elbow away from him and get to my feet, quickly shoving my dress back down to cover myself. He’s seen more than enough of my body tonight.

He rises to his feet with me, and hovers over me.

“I don’t want this marriage, Micah. Neither do you.” I lift my chin.

He reaches out and trails his fingertip down my cheek. “You cried so prettily.”

My heart hammers with his words, not with what he said, but how aroused he sounds when he says it.

“I don’t want to cry.” It’s a pathetic thing to say, but I’m not thinking clearly.

“You will. And it will be good. You’ll see.” He cups my cheek and leans in, the scent of his spiced aftershave envelops me just before his lips press against mine. His hand snakes behind my head, into my hair where he makes a fist.

It hurts, but the tenderness of his kiss washes it away. His tongue brushes against my lips, as though asking permission to enter. But all gentleness ends as soon as I give him entry. The kiss turns possessive and hard. My lips will be as swollen as my ass, but I can’t seem to find the strength to shove him away. Or the desire.

My toes curl into the carpet as he presses his body against mine. Every bit of him is touching me. Every. Bit. His cock is hard, and he presses it firmly against my hip.

Only when he releases me do I remember to breathe. His brown eyes meet mine as he slowly lets go of my hair.

“It’s been a long night for you. Wash up and get in bed.”

I stare at his lips. How can a man with such power, such steel in his heart bring about such warmth and longing with a kiss?

“Lena. I’m going to have some boxes brought up tomorrow. I want that closet packed up and I never want to see you in one of those dresses again.” He pinches my hip and smiles.

“Will you… I mean, is that the last time?” I look over at the couch, hoping he catches my meaning.

“From what I’ve heard about you, I doubt it.” He wipes my cheek. “No more tears tonight, or I won’t be able to wait until our wedding to take you to my bed.”

I must look shocked by his words because he laughs. It’s the first time I’ve heard it. It’s earthy and genuine.Exclusive content from NôvelDrama.Org.

“Go to bed, Lena.” He spins me around and pats my ass.

I start forward and go to pick up the shoes, but he stops me.

“Leave those. I’m going throw them away. They’re too small for you.”

My toes.

I look down and wiggle them. They don’t hurt anymore, but I’ll probably have a blister tomorrow.

“Good night, Micah,” I say and hurry from the room.

Anger should be ruling my mood. I should be ready to throw things and demand to be taken home. I should pick up my phone and call my father and tell him Micah hit me. That I’m being abused.

Back in my room, I open the closet door to the full-length mirror. I pull up the dress and turn to look at my ass expecting to see black and blue markings.

But all I see are red splotches and one very distinct handprint. My fingers gently trace over the print, over Micah’s hand.

This is a dangerous place to be. Micah is a dangerous man. And I’m not sure I have the weapons to fight him.