Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Tony calls my cell at the same time Leo buzzes through the comms unit and the floor manager walks over with a whale he wants to introduce me to.
“Excuse me.” Corey slides off the barstool. “I’m going to the restroom.”
I nod distractedly and take care of all the issues at hand before I get that niggling feeling about Corey choosing that moment to excuse herself. I glance at the nearest restroom. She should’ve been back by now.
Fuck.
Well, if she was making a run for it, there’s a good chance she’d go to her locker to get her purse with her keys and phone. I walk briskly in that direction. As I round the corner, I see her leaving the employee locker room, heading for the nearest exit.
Sonofabitch.
* * *
Corey
I’m almost at the door when two beefy Guido security guards charge toward me from opposite directions. I break into a run. One of them lunges for me, and catches my arm, his iron grip bruising.
“Boss says don’t touch her,” the other relays with a note of panic in his voice.
The guy releases me like I’m a hot potato but they both jockey to block my exit. It’s almost comical, like some birthday party game where you can’t use your hands to pass an egg to your partner.
I use their abject fear of Stefano’s wrath to my advantage and knee the guy in front of me in the balls. He goes over with a groan, clutching the family jewels. Yes. I’m at Knee-2, Balls-0.
“Corey.” Stefano’s censuring bark comes from a few feet behind me.
I try to dart around the other guard, but Stefano catches my arm and yanks me back. The room spins as I’m upended over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Stefano,” I protest as he carries me swiftly toward the bank of elevators. “You’re making a scene.”
“No, you made the scene, bella.” He hits the elevator button. “And you’ll suffer the consequences.” I’m glad he sounds so cool, calm and collected, because I’m trying to fight back panic over what he’s going to do to me. What will the consequences be?
He gets in the elevator and flashes his ID to get to his suite level. The doors swish closed. Another couple is in the elevator, snickering over my predicament.
“Stefano.”
I really want him to put me down.
“Corey.”
The young woman giggles, whispering to her partner. It feels like ages before the elevator stops and they get off. Someone else tries to get on, but Stefano clips, “Wait for the next one,” and hits the door close button.
Thank God.
When we get to his floor, he carries me off and still he doesn’t put me down. His movements are smooth and assured, like he always manages to open and close doors one-handed with a woman over his shoulder.
He carries me toward the kitchen where he opens a drawer and produces a roll of duct tape.
Oh shit.
Now I go down on my feet, but he maintains control of my body, pinning my hands to the wall and taping them down with a long strip of duct tape. He reinforces it with three more strips, then pulls my hips back and kicks my legs open. His intention is clear; my ass is out and presented. I’m going to get spanked again.
I should not be excited.
I’m freaking thrilled.
He leaves and returns with a pair of scissors.
“Again?” I complain. “You could just strip me before you tape my hands down next time. Ever think of that?”
“You are in no position to get smart with me, amore.”
I believe him. He’s definitely all business right now. I see none of the hot passion that sometimes motivates him. Nor any trace of bemusement.
At least he doesn’t seem angry, although maybe he’s just not the angry type.
The dress falls away in pieces and he uses the scissors to remove my bra and panties as well.
“You could’ve just taken those off,” I grumble.
“I could have,” he says, almost cheerfully. “But I wanted to cut them. I might not be so quick to replace your things this time, either.”
My pussy clenches at the thought of him keeping me taped to his wall, naked, for days.
I shake my head to erase the thought. I’m fuck-nuts crazy.
Stefano walks to the balcony door and fiddles with the curtain. At first I think he’s going to draw them closed, but when he turns, he’s detached the plastic rod used to pull them. He whacks it in his palm and I freak out.
I yank on my hands, trying to pull them off the wall, but they won’t budge.
“Tsk tsk. You’re not going anywhere, bella. Your ass is mine right now, and I’m not going easy on it.”
“Stefano.” I curse the waver in my voice. I also curse the wetness between my legs. Why on earth would the idea of being whipped with a curtain rod excite me?