Page 68 of Jewel of the Assassin

“All the ways I could punish you, moya zhena.” He taps his jaw.

“Then, get it over with already,” I fume. How long before he lifts me?

When his hands descend to my neckline, I gasp because he’s about to destroy any dignity I have left. My hands come up, attacking his forearms, but it’s no use.

“Roman,” I moan as he rips the dress right down the middle and tears it clean off me. “I loved that?—”

“I will buy you ten more…if you’re a good girl, Maya Valya,” he says, barely above a purr while tracing one finger along the black lace barely covering my breasts.

My nipples bead. And it’s not just from the cold. My breath hitches when he grabs a fistful of my hair, and before I can even snap my teeth, he’s fixed it into a messy bun.

For fucks sake! It takes him all of a heartbeat to unsnap the bra and tear it off me, followed by my thong. The cruel Alaskan air bites at my skin, the wind lashing my exposed folds. Goosebumps spread. I try bucking, but my body just swings, making me more uncomfortable.

Then, Roman reaches inside his coat, working his hand behind his back. My pulse spins out of control as he reveals the object he had stashed there.

I grit my teeth, shriek, and snap, holding onto my rage, which fuels the adrenaline in my hot blood. Of course, he would stash a mother fuckingpaddleon his person. And this one has small metal spikes. Oh, God…

I flinch when he trains it along my back, the cool, textured metal brushing my exposed bottom. Heat coils low in my belly, spreading lower…or higher when it comes to this position.

Circling to my front, Roman hooks the paddle to his belt loop before reaching inside his coat, retrieving a length of red silk rope. He seizes my arms. I try to struggle, to hit and claw, but it doesn’t take him long to subdue me and bind my hands behind my back, joining them at the base of my spine.

“Ugh, what are you doing?”

“Keeping my wife more comfortable.”

“How about you comfortably kiss my ass?”

It’s the worst choice of words right now. And I know I’ll pay for it soon. But my dark sass is the only thing grounding me right now.

“I will be doing so much more than kissing it, Valentina,” he says, his breath hot between my exposed legs. My thighs clench reflexively.

It takes him all of a minute to secure me, ankles bound, but my knees are bent like a reverse prayer position.

“Are you happy now that I’m strung up like a goddamn turkey at a Thanksgiving market?” I hiss.

Roman chuckles darkly and gives my body a little spin. “No. I won’t be happy until you’re stuffed, basted, and begging for seconds, little bird.” He stops me mid-twirl, his palm lingering on my thigh.

“And now…” He withdraws something from his pocket, and I gasp, shaking my head furiously.

“Don’t even think abo?—”

He seizes the moment, shoving the ball gag in my mouth and clasping the leather tie behind my head. My shrieks and cries are muffled as I whip my head back and forth, fighting like a hellcat.

“The more you struggle, the more you will wear yourself out. I suggest you save your strength.”

I burn my eyes against his, wishing I could tell him to fuck off, but he will do that soon anyway. He disappears behindme.

I freeze when he rubs the spiked side of the paddle along my ass. “Relax your muscles. If you tense, it will make the strike hurt with a painful bruise for days. I’d prefer you red and welted, not black and blue.”

“Urrgh!” I screech through the ball gag.

He circles again, jaw clenching, muscles flexing, bracing himself.

Swinging the instrument, he brings it down flat on my left cheek. The spikes bite my skin like little teeth. My chest heaves, my body jutting forward just a little from the momentum. Roman smacks the other side, so the other cheek shares in the stinging sensation.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

He lands three more blows on each side until the heat radiates through my whole bottom. Nothing compares to the fire Roman is building—no,forging—inside me. I dangle helplessly, the blood rushing to my head in a pounding rhythm that matches the burn rising in my core. Roman is behind me again, breathing heat and fury down my spine. He alternates between soothing strokes of the paddle’s flat leather and the punishing kiss of the spiked side.