Page 15 of Painted in Sin

"And the man tonight?" Victor follows me now, a few strides behind me, but I feel his eyes on me while mine are on his artwork.

"Another player in this game, a man who wants the painting worse than Nicola." I wince as I remember seeing my apartment in an image on his phone. "There is something very interesting about that painting and the frame." He has asked me more than once now about the frame, and maybe he deserves to know. I'm confused by it all, and with my only source for true help fading into memory, I'm not sure where to turn. I feel safe with Victor.

"Yes, about the frame…. Tell me what you've heard." He touches my elbow, and I stop, turning to face him. He's close to me now, so close I can smell his cologne and musk. It's a heady mix that puts me at ease. His tie is gone, shirt unbuttoned at the top. My eyes bounce down to see the ridge of his collarbone and then back up to his eyes.

"I've heard there are diamonds in the frame worth millions… But what's more, they're very special for some reason." I can't verify the authenticity of the frame, but its weight alone tells me there is more than meets the eye.

"I see," he says as his eyes fall to my lips and linger there, watching them. "And do you think the rumor is true?" He blinks slowly, and his gaze rises again, his hand floating toward me to rest on my hip.

"I'm not sure what's true or what’s a lie. I just know I'm in the middle of another scandal. I barely survived the last one." I shudder as I remember Nicola's hand on my throat—now more than once, he's done it.

"Well, I say we need to do some investigation." His thumb rides along the ridge of my hipbone, caressing it firmly as he pulls me into himself. "My father's been obsessed with that painting, but I have an obsession he'll never understand."

I get the feeling that obsession is me, and I'm not that upset by it. The idea of Victor Costa pouring this amount of wealth, prestige, and class out just for me—just allowing me to view his paintings and artwork… I can't fathom what he'd do if he were in love.

"What's that?" I ask, licking my bottom lip. I want to fight the urge to enjoy this moment, but I don't. He's charming and elegant. His passion for artwork overwhelms me. I've never been so impressed by an art collection that I was willing to overlook someone's sins, but here I am doing it.

"You, of course," he whispers before leaning down to close the gap between us. My body is on fire, my mind already forgetting the excitement of the night. It's just me and him, and all I can think about is the growing ache in my belly.

I told him what I know and he isn't rushing off to destroy a frame for diamonds. I guess some things can wait. Some things are more important than money—at least in the short term.

12

VICTOR

Isabella’s lips are supple, soft. They dance across mine as I deepen the connection between us, pulling her in against my body harder. She splays her hands on my chest and her head arches back, letting her jaw drop. I’m smitten, taken aback by how beautiful she is inside and out. Faced with danger, she melts into me. Aroused, she does the same for me. But her honesty is refreshing. She’s given me what she knows, and now I will reward her.

I back her across the room toward the darkened hallway. She glides effortlessly, clinging to my neck as I continue to kiss her. My eyes are open, searching, and she is putty under my touch. My hands search her curves gently at first, then more roughly as we start toward my bedroom. Her hands work to unbutton my shirt. I unzip the dress she wears and let my hands smooth down her back until my pinky fingers brush over the elastic of her panties.

In my room, I break the sensual kiss with a sigh, my cock throbbing in my pants. I drag my fingernails down her back, causing her to arch against me harder, silently begging for more.Her moan is music to my ears as I reach into my drawer and pull out the item I need.

A riding crop.

Isabella’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t pull away from me in resistance. My respect for her grows tenfold at that single, minuscule act of defiance. Her eyes lock on mine as I slide it over her ribs, then her hip, narrowing my gaze on the dip between her breasts. Just a hint of a nod at the shoulder and my stubble could scrape her skin as I sink my teeth into her, but she doesn’t shy away.

“I’m going to need you to step back for me, beautiful,” I say gruffly, struggling to control myself in her presence. Her scent consumes me as her eyes drop to the tool of our torturous lust in my hands. I watch as a flush creeps up her neck, and she obliges, taking a few steps back. She lifts her hands, sliding the wide, sequined straps of her dress off her shoulders. The material slips over her curves effortlessly, pooling at her feet, and I take in the sight of her peaked nipples.

“Breathtaking… Like a rare Degas.” My eyes drink her in before I step forward. I hook my fingers into her panties and in one swift motion, they are down at her ankles. She steps out of them without a word, and I take her wrists in mine, guiding her to the bed where gently I boost her onto the mattress.

She starts to remove her shoes, but I click my tongue and lift my eyebrows and she leaves them. Her wrists are soft, delicate as I wrap them with silk restraints from my bedside table, tying her to the headboard. She exhales a shaky breath but doesn’t protest, doesn’t squirm. But her eyes watch every move I make, and I like the hint of fear mingled with the look of pure lust shegives me. I can smell her—aroused and pleading with me to fuck her.

“Mmm,” I hum as I walk around the foot of the bed like a predator about to pounce on its prey. “It seems you have been a very bad girl tonight, haven’t you, Isabella?”

Her cheeks flame red with arousal and she bites her bottom lip before arching her hips upward for me. “Yes, maybe I have.”

“Maybe?” I drawl, grabbing her ankle and lifting it upward. The crop slides along her leg to her core, where I tap her clit lightly. “You’re soaking wet for me, Bella. Does my dark side turn you on? Do you like that nothing is off limits to me? That I get what I want?” All but one of those paintings are stolen, and I wonder how much of it she knows about.

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she lets her knees fall apart, seeking more contact. Her pussy is slick and swollen as I swat the crop against her inner thigh, enjoying the sound of the leather on her skin as well as the way she hisses. Her lip pinched between her teeth, she still doesn’t break eye contact. I don’t know what sort of shit she’s into, but I’m about to unleash all of my fury on her.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself, Isbella?” I drag the crop down her stomach and between her legs. Her hips jerk, involuntarily. Her pussy lips are so swollen and wet, I can almost taste her on my tongue.

“I… I like it,” she pants as I tickle the side of her cunt before flicking the tip of the crop against her clit again. She jerks again but doesn’t close her legs. “I like how you—” The rest of her sentence is lost on a moan as I smack her again, this time harder.

Isabella pulls against her restraints, and I don’t think for a second that she’s trying to get away. She wants to touch herself. I’ve got her right where I want her as I unbuckle my belt and pull it off, kick off my shoes, and shuck my shirt.

“Tell me again,” I whisper in her ear before licking her cheek. “Tell me how much you like it. Whose pussy is this, Bella?” I swat the riding crop at her core again, smacking it full on, and she whimpers and heaves. She’s panting, quivering on my bed as she anticipates what I may do next.

“Yours, Victor. I—” She pants. “You can have it.”

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