Because You Are Mine (Because You Are Mine #1)(60)
Author: Beth Kery

“I told Xander LaGrange to shove it and threw him face-first on the elevator just now because I can’t stand that bloody bastard,” Ian grated out through a clenched jaw as he approached her. She looked up and saw the fury and heat in his eyes. She almost backed up, he looked so fierce, but he stopped her with a hand on her wrist. “And also because he had the balls to ask for one additional item before he signed.”

“What?”

“You.” He ignored her shocked gasp. “He wasn’t entirely selfish. He said I could watch while he sealed the deal in your pussy.”

She gasped.

“His words, Francesca,” he bit out. “Not mine.”

She stared in disbelief and rising anxiety. She couldn’t believe Xander LaGrange was such a loathsome slimeball. Yet . . . if she hadn’t behaved so flirtatiously tonight, trying to defy Ian, Xander wouldn’t have done what he’d done. Ian would have his deal. Tears smarted in her eyes.

Oh, no. She’d completely ruined things for him. He may have deserved a little tormenting for his relentlessly arrogant behavior, but she’d never intended this.

“Ian, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean . . . surely you don’t think I meant—”

He placed his hand along the side of her head, holding her immobile, his scoring stare making her fall silent. “I know you didn’t mean to ruin the deal. You’re not that vindictive. Besides that, you’re too foolish to even know what you’re doing. Xander’s utter stupidity in suggesting I share you with him was just icing on the cake. The second that asshole touched you, the deal was finished. I only brought him up to the penthouse to tell him so. Before I got the chance, he made his last demand for the buyout and ended up leaving a lot more . . . abruptly than he’d planned as a result.”

“I can’t believe it,” she muttered, horrified.

“That’s because you have no idea how a man like Xander LaGrange thinks. You were having your fun playing with fire. You’ve got the body and a face of a goddess and the mentality of a six-year-old with a pretty new toy.”

Anger filtered through her misery. “I’m not a child, and I was just trying to prove to you that I won’t be treated like one, Ian!”

“You’re right,” he said, tightening his grip on her wrist. He began to walk to the far side of his enormous suite, Francesca trailing after him clumsily in her high heels. “You want to play the games of a woman, you want to flick matches at me to see if I burn? Well, you better be willing to take the consequences, Francesca,” he said, reaching into a drawer and drawing out some keys roughly.

Her chest felt so full of anxiety and regret and rising excitement, she couldn’t draw breath. What was he doing unlocking that door? She followed after him when he pulled on her wrist and entered a room that was about twenty feet by fifteen. This space contained a whole bank of built-in cherrywood drawers and cabinets. He shut the door behind her, and she looked around. The entire far corner was lined with mirrors and a contraption of some sort with springs and harnesses and black nylon straps. She stared wide-eyed at the device, her heart starting to drum in her ears.

“Go stand in front of the couch and take off your dress.”

She tore her eyes off the intimidating device and realized there was a plush sofa on the wall opposite from the shelves and mirror. An elegant chandelier strangely didn’t look out of place on the ceiling. So like Ian to pair crystal with kink. There were also other things in the windowless room, like two hooks with straps spaced along the wall, an unusually curved tall stool sitting in front of a piece of wood affixed to the wall like a ballet bar, and a padded bench.

“Ian, what is this room?”

“It’s the room where you’ll receive your more serious punishments,” he said before he walked over to the drawers and opened one. Her eyes widened when she saw several paddles and instruments with leather straps. Her mouth went dry when he grasped the handle of the familiar-looking black leather paddle and lifted it.

Oh, no.

“I really didn’t mean to ruin the deal for you tonight,” she said in a rush.

“And I told you I knew that. I’m not punishing you because Xander LaGrange is a fucking tool. I’m going to punish you for tormenting me all night. Now didn’t I ask you to remove your dress?” he asked, the slightest hint of amusement in his dark-angel eyes when he turned to regard her, paddle in hand. His mirth vanished when she didn’t move.

“The door isn’t locked, Francesca. You can go if you choose. But if you stay, you will do as I say.”

She walked across the room, pausing in front of the couch, having trouble catching her breath. She noticed that her reflection in the mirrors across the way was pale as she reached to unzip her dress. Ian paused across the room in the action of opening another drawer as she peeled the tight garment off her skin.

Bandage dress indeed.

She hesitated when she’d removed the dress. “These, too?” she asked shakily, referring to the bra, panties, and thigh-highs she wore, along with the black lizard-skin heels.

“Just take off the bra and panties,” he said, grabbing some items from a drawer and stalking toward her. His body blocked her view, making it difficult to see what he set on the padded table in addition to the paddle as she removed the requested garments. She glimpsed only one thing before he blocked her view as he walked toward her—an item that was like a long cone-shaped tube made of black rubber, a ring affixed to the thicker end.

She focused on his hand, her clit twanging in excitement when she saw the jar of stimulant. He must have noticed where she stared—or perhaps he’d noticed her stiffening nipples—because a grim smile tilted his hard mouth.

“That’s right. I’m weak when it comes to you. Pitifully so. I can’t bear to think of your experiencing only discomfort,” he said as he unscrewed the jar. He dipped a thick finger into the white emollient and met her stare. “Even for this—when you deserve a good, hard punishment.”

She swallowed thickly. “I really am sorry, Ian,” she said, not because of the intimidating black paddle over on the table, and not because of that strange black plug she’d glimpsed.

He frowned slightly and stepped toward her. She gasped loudly as he plunged his finger between her labia, rubbing the cream into her clit with a brisk precision that made her whimper.

“I spoil you,” he said, withdrawing his hand, leaving her to burn.