Page 50
Story: Steal Me
SYLVAIN BROKE THE SURFACEof the water with a growl, decades of training kicking in as he hauled himself onto the dock in one fluid motion. Water cascaded from his expensive clothes, but his eyes—those dangerous blue eyes—never left her.
His darling little thief, with her fearless reprisal.
She had grown bolder with him, this wife of his.
But boldness had consequences.
Liana was already running toward the stone path leading to the mansion, her laughter carried on the Mediterranean breeze.
Peu importe. Didn't matter.
He pursued her with predatory grace, his pace unhurried, his every move deliberate. It was easy to calculate her trajectory as his wife darted between palm trees, and...there.
She could only gasp his name out as he caught her from behind, and she half-choked, half-sputtered when he tossed her over his shoulder...just like old times.
"Sylvain!"
He turned back to the dock, and his wife shivered, but this, he knew, had nothing to do with how his wet clothes were plastered against her skin.
This was his wife, after all, and he knew her, inside out.
"Please put me down."
Her voice shook with a mixture of fear and desire, the two things always existing together in the way she loved him. There was a part of Liana that would always fear him, and it was that part of her which was also why her body always responded eagerly and helplessly to his every command.
It was how they both wanted it. How they both needed it.
"Um, Syl—"
Sylvain slapped her bottom, the crack of his palm against her flesh echoing between the sea and sky.
"People are sta—"
Another slap, harder this time.
Let La Bête Sauvage wait.
His cousin would understand, having tamed his own temptuous beauty.
"B-But what about the party—"
"We are not French for nothing," Sylvain drawled. "We are expected to be late."
"But I'm actually half—"
SLAP.
Her body trembled against his shoulder, the heat building between them, the promise of what was to come.
"Be a good girl,ma petite," he murmured, lowering her onto the cabin bed, his wet clothes leaving dark patches on the sheets. "And accept your punishment gladly."
The End
His darling little thief, with her fearless reprisal.
She had grown bolder with him, this wife of his.
But boldness had consequences.
Liana was already running toward the stone path leading to the mansion, her laughter carried on the Mediterranean breeze.
Peu importe. Didn't matter.
He pursued her with predatory grace, his pace unhurried, his every move deliberate. It was easy to calculate her trajectory as his wife darted between palm trees, and...there.
She could only gasp his name out as he caught her from behind, and she half-choked, half-sputtered when he tossed her over his shoulder...just like old times.
"Sylvain!"
He turned back to the dock, and his wife shivered, but this, he knew, had nothing to do with how his wet clothes were plastered against her skin.
This was his wife, after all, and he knew her, inside out.
"Please put me down."
Her voice shook with a mixture of fear and desire, the two things always existing together in the way she loved him. There was a part of Liana that would always fear him, and it was that part of her which was also why her body always responded eagerly and helplessly to his every command.
It was how they both wanted it. How they both needed it.
"Um, Syl—"
Sylvain slapped her bottom, the crack of his palm against her flesh echoing between the sea and sky.
"People are sta—"
Another slap, harder this time.
Let La Bête Sauvage wait.
His cousin would understand, having tamed his own temptuous beauty.
"B-But what about the party—"
"We are not French for nothing," Sylvain drawled. "We are expected to be late."
"But I'm actually half—"
SLAP.
Her body trembled against his shoulder, the heat building between them, the promise of what was to come.
"Be a good girl,ma petite," he murmured, lowering her onto the cabin bed, his wet clothes leaving dark patches on the sheets. "And accept your punishment gladly."
The End
Table of Contents
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