[Music: Drowning By Saint Vice]

Anastasia’s lips slowly parted, a soft breath rolling off her. "You don’t own my body, Don Salvero."

This fearless little kitten.

Knowing she struck a nerve, she added. "What are you gonna do about that? Spank me?"

I’m greatly... tempted.

However, the moment I do give in... I’m not gonna fucking stop until her ass is burning red, beautiful tears rolling down her face, glistening against that porcelain skin like it was made for it.

I won’t be quite finished just yet because then I’m gonna make her beg for a moment of peace I won’t give.

She’d be a breathtaking mess by the time I’m done with her.

"Don’t threaten me with a good time," I muttered lightly.

She scoffed, forcing her neck away from my grip.

Seems like being drunk erased the fear and spiked the boldness. I’m delighted by this fire I see in my kitten.

"What’s the matter, kitten?" I questioned, moving toward the high stool. "Drinking and sulking is an unpleasant combination."

I felt her eyes follow me, searing against my back, and when I looked, she lowered her gaze to the empty glass, running circles on the rim with her finger.

Amused, I pulled out the stool to sit opposite her.

"Why do you care...?" She hipcupped. "Don’t tell me because I’m your wife. It’s beginning to annoy me how much you use that to spite me."

She grabbed the bottle to pour herself a drink, but nothing came out. Frustrated, she kept shaking in hopes of something.

"There has to be another lying around here somewhere."

I eyed the empty bottle. That would be Elliot’s. Always been a fan of that brand. Any bottle of tequila was his.

Anastasia scanned the kitchen for a miracle drink, her eyes fluttering open and closed every second. I’m a bit high right now, but I think I’m the clearheaded one at the moment.

Her attention was drawn back to me, her body stiffening as if realizing I was still here. Maybe she thought I was gonna disappear or something.

I hate to disappoint you, kitten, but I won’t. I like what I see.

Anastasia grew uneasy by the passing second, wriggling awkwardly. This was a habit of hers, more pronounced now that she doesn’t have a hold on herself.

Always so tense when we shared the same space... like she couldn’t predict my next move, and her chances of survival were slim.

Her eyes fell on the box. "What’s that?"

I opened my mouth to speak.

"Never mind..." she shut me out, leaning forward and cupping her face in her palms.

Another silence grew, and I enjoyed it far more than I intended, given that her anxiety was spiking.

"Sometimes you think you’re so sure of something but..." she muttered. "You’re not. Right in front of you the whole time, only to find out you’re blind."

She’s talking even though defensive. Now I think my favorite part was drunk Anastasia.

"I’m sure of one thing, though..." she continued.

"What?"

"You killed my sister."

The bloodlust sharpened her gaze, and I could already see her taking the bottle to attack me.

"I hate your fucking guts, and I wish I could drive my blade into your heart."

"What are you waiting for then...?" I coaxed lightly. "Give it a try."

Her drunken state turned to wild fury.

"I promise it will feel good by the time you’re done."

The bottle and glass knocked over as Anastasia crawled against the table. She pointed her switchblade at my chin.

"You’re gonna regret saying that to my face."

Fuck me. I’m scared.

"No regrets," I said. "Make a nice clean cut."

She gritted her teeth, pressing the blade into my skin where I could feel the sharpness.

She never learns.

I grabbed her waist, the blade dropping against the counter as I pulled her down to my lap. She clutched my arms tightly, shaking against me, reminded that she’d fallen right into the serpent’s lair.

"Naughty naughty kitten..." I cooed, seizing her jaw. "I’ve told you... using sharp things isn’t safe."

"But you said—"

"Shhh, darling... I know what I said." I hooked my thumb beneath her lower lip and tugged it down gently. "Though watching you lose control was... riveting."

Anastasia heaved as I freed her lips. I grasped the switchblade, folding the blade back in place before I drove the steel into her thigh garter.

The thin material of her nightdress pushed back until I got a glimpse of her blue lacy panties.

I flickered my eyes back at her, and she stared at me hard as if expecting me to do otherwise, almost daring me to like an opportunity to make the first strike.

So much fire.

I pushed to my feet, the stool screeching loudly against the floor. Anastasia squeaked when I draped her over my shoulder.

"Hey!" she yelled, but went still the next second when I positioned my palm on her ass, using that as a foothold on her frame.

I took the box and left the kitchen. The journey through the hallway went smoothly until I felt Anastasia groping my ass.

"You’ve got a fine ass..." she giggled. "And it’s wasted on you. EEK!"

I squeezed her asscheek right back, but I didn’t end there; my finger slipped between her panties, where I got a feel of the crack of her ass.

"Okay okay! I’m not touching you anymore, so stop!"

"Too late for that, kitten."

"You meanie!"

I grinned, curling my finger right through the moist dampness of her panties.

"Filthy little kitten." My voice dropped lower. "Already making a mess."

She moaned when I withdrew my finger. I sucked against it, making a turn to the next hallway.

I unlocked my room door and stepped in, nudging it shut with my foot.

I neared the bed and tossed her against it. She glared at me before crawling tiredly to the center, arching her hips higher as if to tease me.

I need a fucking drink.

I took off my coat and suit jacket, throwing them on the sofa. I rolled the sleeves of my dress shirt up my arms when I felt something brush my back.

I leveled my gaze, double-checking. Blue panties.

My eyes snapped up to Anastasia.

Fuck me.

She had mounted my pillow, doubled in two, grinding her pussy into it. Her moans picked in tempo... she went slow, careful as if trying to feel something.

I released a deep sigh, running a hand through my hair, eyeing how she rolled her hips seductively as if making love to a damn pillow.

We locked eyes in the mirror, and her pace slowed down as if on the brink of stopping, eyes wary and timid.

"Don’t stop on my account... keep going," I coaxed as I sat back in the chair to enjoy the show.

My little kitten sank her teeth into her bottom lip, wild lust drowning her eyes.

She straightened her spine, cupping her breasts, holding my gaze as she squeezed them.

My nails sank into the leather, and it took a heavy control I didn’t know I needed to just sit there and watch her.

Anastasia’s breath grew harsher, her grinds picking up pace, her mouth falling wide as she closed her eyes, shooting her head backwards as she came clumsily.

"Jacob!"