Lukas now had her bent over a sawhorse, the main section holding the weight of her stomach, her legs perched on the lower benches. She couldn’t help her mewls as he worked the plug in deeper, even though it was no larger than ones he’d used on her before, and especially no larger than him.
She grimaced when he got it to the widest part and then began working it in and out of her slowly, the way he knew she liked it. The burn from the ginger lube was just making her more sensitive. She couldn’t stop her hips from rolling back towards him.
As the burn became more pronounced and the plug stretched her yet again, her mewls became keens.
“Pretty fucking sexy, there, Lukas,” someone said, Victor maybe. So many people were watching, and she couldn’t bring herself to be mortified. Under any other circumstances she’d be completely turned on by it.
She felt Lukas’s arm come around her waist, holding her still as he began to fuck her with the plug at a more rapid pace. His fingers stretched down and began to play with her clit. She ground herself against him, moaning.
“No, you will not come.” His fingers moved away from her clit as he pulled the plug almost all the way out before slamming it back in place. “You will let everyone see you get fucked in the ass because you’ve been such a naughty girl.”
She held on to the sawhorse as he fucked her with the plug, willing to do whatever he said if he would just give her a chance to explain, give them a chance to be together again.
Finally, after many minutes of working it in and out of her, he left it in place, deep and full inside of her.
She gasped when he picked her up and turned her over, the plug moving further in as her ass hit the sawhorse. She searched his face, hoping for some sign of forgiveness, of tenderness, but there was none.
His voice was cold. “It’s time for your next paddling. Spread your legs, wrap your hands around your calves and pull yourself wide open, knees up near your shoulders in diaper position.”
Tears leaked out of her eyes as she did as he commanded. She was utterly exposed to everyone in this position—the base of the plug completely visible, her pussy gaping wide.
“Humiliating, isn’t it? Naughty girls get punished like this.” His voice held no gentleness whatsoever, no hint that he cared about her any longer at all. “Everyone will be able to see every part of you as you get your last ten spankings. You will apologize to everyone you stole from between each blow.”
Lukas didn’t spank her nearly as hard as the others had while she was in the stock, but by the third blow, she was sobbing uncontrollably, barely able to get her apologies out to each person.
It wasn’t the pain making her cry. Each smack was actually getting lighter. It was Lukas, his coldness. He hated her. She had ruined everything between them and he was never again going to want what they’d had. She just needed to get out of here.
She didn’t stop crying even after the spanking stopped. She couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, couldn’t stand to see coldness on his features where there’d once been so much more.
“I’m going to fuck you now, Reina. And you will ask for forgiveness.” His voice was hoarse, and the room seemed so quiet.
She felt him work himself inside her, the fit so much tighter with the plug that actually hurt.
“Hang in there, princess.”
The words were so soft she wasn’t sure she even heard them. She couldn’t have, Lukas wouldn’t offer her support in any way now. But his finger put hard pressure down on her clit the way she loved, which her body responded to, growing wetter and making his entrance easier.
It wouldn’t be enough, she knew that. No matter what he did, she wasn’t going to be able to come. The Ice Queen was back. Probably to stay.
Eyes still closed, she forced herself to stop crying and say the words he wanted to hear—they all wanted to hear—as he continued to thrust into her. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you. Please forgive me.”
She said it again. And then again.
She kept her eyes closed as she repeated the apology over and over. Time passed, but she didn’t know how much. Seconds? Hours? She could hear the voices around her—even Lukas—but couldn’t seem to pinpoint what any of them were saying.
She just kept her eyes closed, the apology falling from her lips as a frantic whispered mantra now. Was there a magic number of times she could say it that would get Lukas to believe her? Get him to look at her like he had yesterday—as a lover, rather than as the cold member of La Cosa Nostra who’d been wronged? She didn’t dare open her eyes to check.
Her voice broke mid-sentence as she realized Lukas was pulling out of her. She began shaking her head frantically back and forth, but still wouldn’t open her eyes. Until now, some part of her had held on to the fact that at least Lukas still wanted her. Hadn’t hated her enough that he wouldn’t touch her, wouldn’t fuck her. But evidently now he’d reached that point.
The punishment was over.
Everything was.
Lukas was talking to someone, fury clear in his clipped tone, but he wasn’t talking to her. Wasn’t touching her any more. Wasn’t hers any more.
“No, please.” She couldn’t make the hoarse words any louder than a whisper. “Don’t stop. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She had to make him understand. The physical pain was nothing compared to the black ice that was starting to encompass her from the inside out.
She heard a vile curse from Lukas and forced herself to stop talking. He didn’t want to hear anything from her. The frozen darkness seemed to swallow her.
She didn’t open her eyes even when a moment later she felt a soft brush of lips on her cheek, and heard Margo’s soft voice in her ear while someone else covered her body with a blanket. “No more now, pet. You still have a lot of questions to answer, but that can wait.”
She wanted to argue but couldn’t. The ice was surrounding her now, opaque and thick. But that was good. At least if she was surrounded by ice it kept everything at a distance—blurred and hazy.
She let it enfold her, keep her safe, frozen, as someone carried her to a quiet couch and set her down gently. The arms were strong, the grip tender. She wanted to open her eyes and see if it was Lukas, but she didn’t dare. It wouldn’t be him, and confirmation would just be that much more painful. She didn’t open her eyes when a bottle of water rested gently against her lips, although she did drink. When some sort of chocolate was then placed against her mouth, she took a few bites and dutifully chewed. When a hand eased her head down against the armrest and began stroking her hair, she didn’t resist.
But she still didn’t open her eyes. Maybe she’d never would again.
Fronzen inside the ice, she had no idea how long she lay there. Sounds were muffled, and she couldn’t seem to concentrate on any of the voices around her. She didn’t want to see, didn’t want to think, didn’t want to feel—just wanted to freeze.
At some point, the hand had stopped stroking her hair, but she didn’t know when. Time didn’t seem to be passing linearly. How long had she been here? Moments? Hours? Forever?
And the ice was starting to crack. The pain was beginning to leak through. Reina finally gathered all her strength and opened her eyes.
She blinked even against the dim light of the club. She was alone on the couch, which was no more than she’d expected. She had no friends here. She forced herself to sit up, eating more of the chocolate that had been on the table next to the couch. Drinking the rest of the water.
She felt stronger, or at least more in control of her body, but that awareness came at the price of further cracking the ice. The pain waited as a tidal wave behind it. Once it gave way she’d drown.
She couldn’t do that here. If she saw Lukas again now—faced the flinty stare that had replaced the tenderness that once lit his eyes for her—she’d never keep it together. She just wanted to get out this room. Out of this club. Out of this city.
There was nobody around her in this quiet corner past the bar. She
hadn’t really expected there to be. But at least she was near the room where Victor and Margo had removed her clothes and the back stairwell. Walking on shaky legs into that room with the blanket wrapped securely around her, she pulled on her black jeans and tank, wincing as the fabric rubbed tender skin.
She slipped on her sandals and then stepped out of the room, careful to keep herself in the shadows. She made her way towards the stairwell, praying Lukas hadn’t changed the door code from the last time she’d hacked it, one measured step at a time. It wasn’t that she was really hurt, at least not physically, but emotionally she was afraid she might shatter all over the floor.
She let out a tiny sob of relief when the door opened upon her input of the code. She climbed back up to Triple Threat, keeping her head down, and walked through the club and out the door. She was so focused on leaving the building that she was out before she remembered that she didn’t have a car here. She’d snuck out of her apartment and taken a cab a few blocks over so she could get away from the security team watching her place.
Looking back and forth now, there were no cabs to be found.
And then, like she was in some goddamn Greek tragedy, thunder cracked overhead, the skies opened up, and it began to pour.
Reina just looked up at the sky and shook her head. Of course, it would rain. She had no car, there were no cabs in sight, and she was a moment and a half from an emotional breakdown.
She stood for long moments on the sidewalk with her eyes closed, shivering as the rain poured over her, until a car pulled up beside her.
“Lady, you okay? You want a ride or something?”
She looked at the man. He seemed vaguely familiar, but she didn’t know him well enough to get in the car. “No thanks.”
The car drove away, and she started walking down the sidewalk, hoping as she got closer to the Quarter she’d find a cab. She just wanted to go home. She’d gone a block and a half when the car pulled up again.
“Let me give you a ride, lady.”
Why was this guy following her? “No, I don’t want a ride. I—” She turned back to go towards the club, but someone was standing directly behind her. She felt the sharp blade of a knife press into her midsection, not quite piercing her skin.
“You sure this is her, Mick? Rinaldi’s woman?”
“Yeah,” the driver responded. “They were definitely making out at that Chinese restaurant. Get her in the car.”
She knew she couldn’t get in there with them. She opened her mouth to scream, but the guy backhanded her. The world spun, and she fell to the ground.
“Fuck, Simon, be careful. We need her alive to get Rinaldi.”
She began to crawl back towards the club, but Simon grabbed her by the waist and threw her against the car, opening the door and shoving her in the backseat. He got in behind her and pushed her face into the seat so she couldn’t see.
“Drive. We’ll have her call him when we get to the warehouse.”
Mick took off, wheels squealing.
“Don’t get us pulled over, you idiot.” Simon pushed her throbbing head down harder. She struggled to stay focused through the pain, the smell of cigarettes permeating the fabric assaulting her nose.
“Who are you?” she finally asked.
“We’re here to teach Rinaldi that he and his brothers aren’t as big a deal as they think they are, that when they come after us in Baton Rouge, we don’t just lay down and take it.”
The Baton Rouge gang Lukas had mentioned? “What the hell are you doing with me?”
“You’re going to call your boyfriend and he’ll give himself up for you. And if he tries anything, we’re going to kill you.”
Reina couldn’t help it—she began to laugh. She knew she was hysterical, that everything that had happened tonight was crashing down around her psyche, but she didn’t care.
“What the hell’s so funny, bitch?” Mick asked from the front seat.
“You guys are one day too late,” she said, still laughing. “If you had taken me yesterday, your not-so-brilliant plan might have worked, but not today, especially not today. Today, Lukas Rinaldi decided I meant nothing to him.”
Her laughter stopped as quickly as it started. “You can take me wherever you want, but he probably won’t even answer my call. And I can promise he won’t lift a finger to help me.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Lukas just wanted to get back to the couch where he’d put Reina—the one closest to the door so he could take her home as soon as she agreed. But he had to face the fact that she might not want to be around him right now. He didn’t want to add more trauma to how badly he’d already completely fucked up.
He’d wrapped her in the blanket and carried her to the couch on the quiet side of the club after he’d stopped the scene. She still hadn’t opened her eyes, so he hadn’t said anything, just urged her to drink, to eat a little, then eased her head onto the cushion. He’d crouched there, stroking her hair for the longest time, hoping she would open her eyes, but she hadn’t.
They needed to talk. He needed some answers. But first, he had to make sure she was taken care of. He would’ve sat there all night stroking her hair, holding her if she’d let him, until she was finally ready to open her eyes.
But then Dominic and Roman signaled him to come over. He knew his brothers wouldn’t call him away from Reina if it wasn’t an emergency, so he left her, against every instinct. His whole life, the family business had come first. Nothing had ever been more important to him than his brothers and La Cosa Nostra. But right now, business was what was keeping him from where he truly wanted to be, and he resented it. He wanted Reina in his sights. In his arms. Not alone on a couch, even if she was sleeping and didn’t know he wasn’t there.
“Bruno got word a few minutes ago that the cousins of the Baton Rouge leader we took out is here in town,” Dominic said. “We just had an attempted breakin at one of the warehouses, but the men handled it. We need to be on high alert. This could get personal.”
They quickly talked about what security measures they were taking and where the gang members were likely to strike. They were having an all-hands meeting upstairs in a few minutes.
Lukas didn’t give a shit about the Baton Rouge gang and their petty plans for vengeance. All he cared about right now was Reina and trying to make up for the scene that had gone horribly wrong.
Everyone knew it.
It was one thing to watch a punishment scene like Timothy and Melinda a few weeks ago with all the sobbing, begging, and tears. Melinda’s suffering had been a great deal more painful and humiliating than what Reina had been through, not to mention hours longer.
But Jesus, nobody had enjoyed the heartbreaking sound of Reina’s soft cries as she’d apologized over and over. When Lukas had stopped the scene—long after he should’ve stopped it—even Thomas hadn’t given much argument.
His brothers had been right. Lukas should’ve found a way to wait, stalled everyone in their need for chastising Reina until he’d learned the details about what she’d done, and why she’d done it. The lieutenants wouldn’t have liked waiting but would’ve followed the order if Lukas had given it.
But he’d been pissed too. He’d wanted to punish Reina. Make her beg for forgiveness and cry. Wanted to watch her get spanked, plugged, and fucked in public by him as she apologized for wronging him.
But not like how her apologies had happened in the end, like her heart was breaking and she’d lost everything.
Hell, Reina was too tenderhearted to be a criminal, and too smart to steal from La Cosa Nostra. He should’ve known that from the beginning. But he was going to have some answers soon.
“You’re going to have to handle this without me,” Lukas told Roman and Dominic. “I can’t leave Reina. Not tonight.”
He expected arguments from his brothers but got none. Both just nodded. They knew what Lukas hadn’t been able to see clearly: Reina was everything
to him. And he was going to make sure he and she did whatever it took—on both their parts—to right the wrongs that had occurred here tonight.
But when he got back to the couch, Reina was gone.
He didn’t wait to see if she’d come back, just began checking rooms: the bathrooms, the changing room, even private play rooms. When he got to the office-themed room where he’d found her earlier tonight, he realized her clothes were no longer sitting in the neat pile on the table.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She had left. Lukas walked back to the bar. “Did you see Reina walk by?” he asked Brax. She would’ve had to pass by the bar to get out the door.
“Not since you carried her over to the couch. She’s not there?”
Lukas shook her head. “I can’t find her anywhere.” He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at it. He should’ve never left her on that couch alone, even for family business. “I think she left.”
“Damn. She wasn’t in any shape to go on her own.”
Because of him.
“I’m going to her apartment. Tell Dom and Roman if you see them.”
Lukas didn’t wait for an answer. Twenty minutes later, he made it to her apartment after having no success reaching her on her cell phone. There were no lights on, but he began banging on the door anyway.
“Reina, are you there, princess? Open the door.”
When she didn’t answer after a few more minutes—not caring that it was excessive—he used his shoulder to knock the door off its hinges. She wouldn’t be living here anymore anyway.
But a quick sweep through the rooms proved she wasn’t here either.
Fuck.
Where else would she go? He knew she didn’t have any friends she kept in touch with here in the city. Surely, she wouldn’t have tried to leave town in her emotional state?
Maybe she went to her mother and Peter’s house. The software she planted had something to do with him anyway. Lukas tried her phone again on the way over to their house. Still nothing.
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