It had to be a trap. Skye’s raw elbows scraped on the cold, dirty metal as she slid on her belly through the air duct above the penthouse suite of Casino Magnifico.

This was crazy. She should have stolen her stepmother’s necklace first then hit the other Hollywood stars and socialites’ rooms. Her plan had been to distract any particular attention from Savannah Duke as a target—and therefore herself as a suspect—by burgling a few other rooms.

Now, though, after her first two successful heists, the Jamison twins, owners of the Magnifico, had taken precautions, offering to store any valuables brought for their grand Valentine’s Ball in Joe Jamison’s personal safe. The fact that they didn’t choose to put them in the hotel/casino safe, which would’ve been impossible for her to crack, meant they wanted her to show up. And that should’ve made her run for the hills.

But she had no need for the other loot she’d stolen—she didn’t have the billions her stepmother inherited, but she did have millions left in the trust from her father. The sole purpose of the Casino Magnifico heist had been to get the necklace back from Savannah, her stepmonster. So she crawled onward, toward her probable demise.

She reached the vent in what she guessed would be the main living area and backed the screws out. The room appeared dark and no sound came from below. She eased the vent out and caught it before it went clattering to the plush-carpeted floor. Counting to five with her breath held, she listened.

Nothing.

She lowered her bag of equipment with a rope, not that it would’ve made much sound if she’d simply dropped it. Her watch showed thirty seconds until the video surveillance feed would freeze. Despite that precaution, she pulled a black ski mask over her face.

Ten seconds after the freeze, she slid her legs through the opening and eased her body down. A piece of metal scraped the length of her side, catching her thin black nylon shirt and hiking it up to her armpit. Oww...fuck. Good thing she’d had her tetanus shot. She gritted her teeth against the pain and tried to swing her weight to one hand to free the other to unhook the shirt. Instead, she lost her balance and her full weight dangled by the fabric for two seconds before it ripped and she plummeted through the air.

She twisted in the air and softened her ankle and knee joints, managing to land in a crouch. She had her judo masters to thank for that feat. Now, to find the safe. The suite was luxuriously appointed, like every room in the Magnifico, but with more unique touches. The honey-colored carpet sprawled out, thick and plush, art by genuine masters—Degas and Picasso—hung on the walls, and the couches were brick-red suede. While it looked as though an interior decorator had designed it, the place seemed lived in and comfortable. She wondered if both brothers lived here or just Joe.

She scanned the place, looking for likely locations of a safe. Usually they were hidden behind paintings or in the floor of a closet. The metal detector flicked to life and she lifted it to the walls to scan. Nothing in the living room, nor in the hallway.

She pushed open the door to a bedroom. A large king-size bed dominated in the center with a beautiful silk print bedspread. The closet doors were mirrored and eye hooks were drilled into the ceiling.

Kinky much?

At twenty-four, she was technically still a virgin, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know about all the strange sex fetishes people engaged in. She pictured Joe whipping a naked woman strung up and dangling from hooks. Okay, that actually was sort of hot.

Not that she would know.

The metal detector beeped when she reached a large Warhol painting.

Bingo.

The painting had a trip alarm set, which took her a few minutes to disable. She pulled the canvas down and leaned it against the wall by her feet. Her safe-cracking equipment tumbled out of her bag and she unwound and attached the earpieces. The dial whirred and clicked. It took four tries to open—not bad, considering she’d only been studying safe-cracking for a year. Burglary and judo—two ninja skills every billionaire’s daughter should have. At least those set on revenge.

She pulled open the heavy door and scanned the contents, looking for only one item: the sapphire and diamond necklace that had belonged to her mother. Her biological mother, not her Hollywood bimbo stepmom.

She spotted the velvet case and opened it, satisfaction surging. The familiar gems glittered, even in the dark room. She remembered the night her father had placed them around her mother’s neck before they’d gone to a charity ball. Skye had been little—only five or six, and it seemed to her that her mother looked like a fairytale princess. It was one of her last memories of her mother. She brought the jewels to her lips and kissed them, then slid them into a pouch in her bag. “At last, back where you belong.”

“Do they belong to you?” The deep, masculine voice rumbled directly behind her.

Yep, a trap. She whirled and kicked in one smooth motion, aiming at chest level, assuming the speaker would be pointing a gun. Surprisingly, he wasn’t. The smartly-dressed man ducked and launched his body forward and up. His back connected with her crotch to throw her off her feet and toss her onto the bed. She rolled and sprang back up, her heart pounding.

Okay, so he knew martial arts. In addition to being a fine piece of eye candy. She watched him, side-stepping away from the bed to have enough room for an attack.

“I need you to put that necklace back,” he said casually, obviously not exerted by their tussle.

She swallowed. This must be one of the Jamison twins—either Joe or Alex. Somehow she hadn’t expected him to be so...capable. Or sexy. Piercing blue eyes followed her, set off by dark brown hair and a five o’clock shadow on a square jaw. He seemed amused or invigorated rather than angry to find her there.

She bolted for the living room, launching into the air to catch the rope still dangling from the ducts above.

“Uh uh, ninja girl.” Before her hand had swung up to climb, his body connected with hers. Legs wrapped around her waist, his weight forcing her down. Without her gloves, the rope would’ve burned her hands as they slid down.

Jamison ripped the mask off and her pale blonde hair spilled out. She ducked her head even though she doubted he would recognize her from the tabloids. Her name was famous, but not her face. If he didn’t, she might still have some small chance of getting out of this unscathed.

Although that chance seemed to be slimming by the minute.

She let go of the rope. Her weight pulled her out of his grasp as she dropped first to the floor. Doubting she could outrun him to the door, she crouched, prepared to fight. As soon as he dropped, she caught him in the gut with her right elbow. Then sent the left knuckles flying for his throat. He barely reacted to the first blow and deflected the second. She swept a foot behind his legs. He caught it and tossed her to her back. The wind left her in a whoosh before she made her body round and back somersaulted away.

As she sprang to her feet, she had to work to slow her breath. The inside of her elbow was sticky with blood from the scrape on her side.

Jamison feinted to the left then came under her again. He flipped her in the air, and she landed on her ass, one leg bent. Using a capoeira back handspring, she vaulted back to her feet. He had yet to throw a punch or a kick. All he’d done was disable her. Probably he held back because she was a woman. Either that or he was toying with her.

Size and strength didn’t matter so much in martial arts, but his skill also outmatched hers. She suspected, if he’d wanted to end the sparring, he could have done so three moves ago. Which meant, if she didn’t want to go to jail, or, worse, have her famous name splattered across every tabloid in the country, she’d have to go in heavy. But inflicting serious or mortal injury wasn’t part of her repertoire. And even if it had been, she doubted her ability to take this man down.

He advanced, and she kicked, aiming to destroy his knee by popping it from the side. The target moved before she connected with bone, and, apparently, he’d had enough because he abandoned martial arts and threw her to the ground in an old-fashioned tackle. His weight knocked the wind out of her, but the back of her head landed on something soft—the cradle of his palm.

She wanted to sneer about his gentlemanly instincts, but before she had a chance to counter-move, he rolled her to her belly and fastened zip ties around her wrists.

* * *

Alex watched the beautiful burglar wrench her hands against the zip ties.

“Easy, love. Those will dig into your flesh if you struggle.”

He would switch to bondage tape when he had a chance, but for the moment, he didn’t trust the little tigress until he had her immobilized. He flipped her to her back where her bound hands lifted her pelvis.

Damn, that turned him on. She turned him on. Dressed in a skintight black catsuit, her long lean body just wouldn’t quit. Funny how when he’d thought the burglar was male he’d been ready to throttle him. Discovering this beautiful waif breaking into his brother’s safe, though… Well, he still wanted to punish her, but only in the most erotic way.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed his brother Joe. “I caught her.”

“Her?”

His lips stretched into a wolfish smile. His brother would enjoy this one as much as he did. “Mmm hmm. Cutest little cat burglar I’ve ever seen.”

Her cheeks colored in an enchanting blush, and she brought her knees up to kick.

Still holding the phone, he moved swiftly to straddle her, squeezing her legs together between his thighs. Her scent filled his nostrils—sweet, sensual, earthy. Delicious.

“I’ll be right there.”

“We’ll be waiting.” He hit end and looked down at the struggling thief. “Enough.” He gave her face a light slap—not with any force, just enough to establish dominance.

Her eyes widened in shock, and suddenly her body fought him in a different way, her hips arching, breasts thrusting toward the ceiling.

Oh, hell yeah. She liked being his prisoner. The situation that had been a pain in his ass just became a lot more interesting.

And da-yum, she didn’t appear to be wearing anything under her skintight black ninja clothes. Her nipples poked up under the thin fabric.

It took all his self-control not to pinch them. He gave his head a quick shake to clear it. “What’s your name, ninja girl?”

She pressed her lips together.

“How many of you are there?”

She shook her head, but then her brow furrowed, as if she questioned the wisdom of admitting that.

“No others?”

Her eyes jumped around, pupils small. Yep, definitely worried. She must realize if he wanted to take matters into his own hands, no one would even know where to look for her. The dominant in him didn’t mind her afraid, but the gentleman balked a little.

Still, she had stolen from their guests, threatening to ruin their elite Valentine’s Day ball/fundraiser and cause the Magnifico a world of bad publicity. The only way his brother Joe had been able to suppress the story, so far, was with his assurances to his guests that he’d recover their stolen property before the weekend was through.

“Do you know who I am?”

She licked her dry lips. “One of the Jamison twins, I presume.” Her voice sounded cultured, with a husky quality that reverberated throughout his body, particularly his cock.

“I’m Alex. My brother and I are not happy you chose our casino for your heist.” He resisted the urge to brush the backs of his fingers along her cheek to see if her skin was as soft and smooth as it appeared.

“It wasn’t personal.”

He lifted his brows. “Wasn’t it? Maybe not with us, but you seemed to have a relationship with that necklace.” He unclipped the bag from her waist and emptied the contents on the carpet beside her.

Anger and shame flitted across her face when he displayed the ridiculously expensive cascade of sapphires and diamonds.

“What does this mean to you?”

She turned her face to the side, looking away from him.

He tucked the necklace back in its velvet pouch and slid it into his pocket.

Her eyes followed the movement.

“I need a little more cooperation from you than that, little thief. Joe is on his way up here, and he can be a real bastard when he’s crossed.”

Wariness returned to her gaze. “What are you going to do with me?”

“After you return the other jewels? We’ll negotiate an appropriate punishment.” He enunciated the word punishment, watching for her reaction.

Her eyes dilated, and the glorious hip-thrust happened again.

Oh hell, yes. He couldn’t believe this delicious little morsel had dropped into their laps. She responded to dominance, and her transgressions laid the groundwork for a perfect punishment/slave scenario. If she was into it, of course. He liked the illusion of non-consent, not actual.

He climbed off and lifted her to stand, gripping her upper arms. They were slender but muscled, like her legs, which...yeah. He wanted those long limbs wrapped around his waist while he drove into her until she screamed.

In the kitchen, he plunked her down on a wooden chair and zip-tied her ankles to the legs of the chair with her thighs spread wide. The bright light flicked on when he hit the switch. He returned to study her.

She appeared young, no more than twenty-five, with a model-perfect face—peaches and cream skin and straight white teeth. She glared up at him, her baby blues defiant, but her nipples still protruded and the gusset of her skintight pants was wet. Yep, little ninja girl liked being manhandled.

He pulled out his camera and took a picture of her face.

“Hey, what are you doing?” She rocked the chair forward.

“Documenting.” He pushed it back, placing his foot on the seat between her legs and leaving it there. Finding out her identity came first. They needed to know who they were dealing with. Did she have priors? Known accomplices?

She certainly didn’t seem like any ordinary thief—but were thieves of her caliber ever ordinary? It took brains and talent to succeed at the heists she’d already completed. He texted the photo to Darryl, their security technician, to run with his face recognition software.

She swallowed and rubbed her lips together.

He made a show of rolling up his sleeves, as if he was about to get down and dirty with her. A smear of blood stained one of his cuffs. His gaze jerked back to his little cat burglar, sweeping over her body. Her shirt appeared ripped under her right arm.

He frowned, drawing closer to examine her. Catching sight of blood, he grasped the edge and tore it open, rending the fabric all the way to the collar and across to the other sleeve.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, wrestling with her bonds. The shirt hung open like a jacket, exposing her breasts. Perfect, peach-tipped breasts.

“Don’t worry, little ninja, Rape wasn’t part of my plan. I wanted to get a look at that cut of yours.” A long gash ran down her side, and fresh blood seeped from it.

He crouched beside her, his hand fitted around her throat to prevent her from head-butting him. “I promise I won’t give you my cock until you beg for it.”

* * *

In your dreams, asshole.

Except...yeah. The hand caging her neck had her wetter than she’d been in her entire life. She loved the controlling way he handled her. Hurt-y without harming.

He examined the stinging gash running down her side. It wasn’t deep, but the damn thing kept bleeding. He frowned. “Did I do this?”

Would he be sorry if he had? She suspected he would.

“No.”

The beep of the keycard sounded from front door.

“We’re in the kitchen,” Alex called out.

His twin strolled in, equally sexy in a more sophisticated way. They weren’t identical, but yes, they were certainly twins. Joe appeared clean-shaven and serious where Alex sported an easy, lopsided smile with laugh lines around his eyes. The muscles decorating his broad shoulders were a little more pronounced, not that Joe’s weren’t defined.

Joe gave her a cool, assessing look. Her heart thudded against her ribs. What would they do with her? Alex had mentioned punishment.

She should have researched these guys better. Did they operate outside the law like mobsters? She sure as hell hoped their brand of punishment wasn’t ripping off her fingernails or beating her to death with a sandbag.

“Look who I found rooting through your safe,” Alex said.

Joe walked around her chair, disappearing from her field of vision. When he reemerged, he folded his arms across his chest. “Well, that’s hot.”

She flushed. Oh God, she was so fucked. The Jamison brothers oozed sex appeal and screamed danger. One had already been too much to handle, and now they were both staring down at her like hungry lions.

Her skin prickled with heat.

“Joe, meet our little cat burglar. Ninja girl, Joe, my brother, in case you hadn’t guessed.”

“Watch her while I get something to clean up her cut,” Alex said. He disappeared, taking his larger-than-life presence with him and leaving her alone in their kitchen with the more frightening brother.

Joe filled a glass with ice water and put a straw in it then pushed it between her lips. “Drink.”

The unexpected gesture threw her off-balance. She wanted to refuse—not to cooperate with them in anything, even this—but she’d been thirsty back when she’d been crawling in the air ducts. Now, she was downright parched. She parted her lips and took the straw between them. The cool liquid soothed her dry throat and mouth. She drank down the entire glass. Great, in thirty minutes she’d have to pee and they’d probably still have her zip-tied to a chair. What a perfect torture.

“More?” he asked, holding up the empty glass.

She shook her head. “No, thanks.”

“Hungry?”

She was starving, actually, but she didn’t trust the solicitousness. This was probably one of those “good cop, bad cop” games where one brother pretends to befriend her while the other scares the shit out of her. Of course Joe was the scary one, so maybe the analogy was off. Either way, she didn’t trust him.

Joe’s phone beeped, and he pulled it out and looked at the screen then back at her with interest. He handed it to Alex when he returned.

“Interesting,” Alex said, studying her with the same open curiosity. He uncapped a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and dribbled a stream down her side.

She hissed at the burn.

“She likes pain,” Alex said.

“So I see.”

She bared her teeth, glaring and trying to figure out what made him say that. Oh. Her pelvis had rocked forward, and she’d arched in her chair. But that didn’t mean she liked pain. It just meant she felt pain and her body had reacted...

Alex flicked one of her exposed nipples with his thumb. It was a light touch—not sexual, more degrading than anything. She followed his gaze to look at what he saw—her nipples pebbled up in tight, stiffened buds.

Alex crouched beside her, his fingers wrapped around her throat, and dabbed the blood and peroxide with a hand towel. “She definitely likes being restrained.” He fitted a piece of gauze over the scrape and taped it in place.

“You’re nuts.”

Was she a masochist? For the first time, she regretted foregoing her sexual education in favor of martial arts and burglary. She felt completely out of her element. Yes, she loved fighting, and that often involved pain. She relished the impact of flesh against flesh and she never minded cuts and bruises. But that didn’t mean she got off on pain...did it?

The corners of Alex’s mouth lifted in a smirk. “Am I?” He gripped both thighs, far too close to her crotch to be polite—not that tying her to a chair was polite either—and forced her legs wider. “Look who’s dripping wet.”

Her breath grew short. She didn’t dare look, afraid to see the wet spot he examined. She definitely should’ve worn panties for this job, even if they did crawl up her ass when she crept through air vents.

One of his thumbs traveled up and stopped a centimeter away from her pussy. Its heat registered and made the muscles of her pelvic floor lift and flutter, quivering at the insinuation of contact.

His blue eyes were so damn intent. Was he watching for a green light?

She ought to tell him to get his roving hands off her, but her lips wouldn’t move to speak. Maybe she just needed to know what happened next in the “girl zip-tied to a chair” scenario.

She tore her eyes away from Alex’s to find Joe watched, too, leaning casually against their kitchen counter, eyes glittering. Electricity crackled between all three of them. She arched, wriggling her hips.

“Is this pussy wet for me...for us?”

Jesus and Mary.

His finger contacted her clit through the thin fabric of her pants and made a feather-light circle around it.

She jerked, hard, not that it did any good. She literally couldn’t move.

His eyebrows lifted in a mock-stern expression. “I told you to stop struggling. Keep it up, and I’ll hogtie you. That chair is a luxury, sweetheart.”

A wave of heat swept through her at the threat. She closed her eyes and willed herself to relax.

“Good girl.” The words came softly. “We don’t want you hurt.”

“At least not by zip-ties,” Joe amended.

Her tongue struggled to speak. “How do you want me hurt?”

Alex’s finger returned to her clit.

She shoved her pelvis forward, pushing into his touch, needing more.

“I can think of dozens of ways I’d like to hurt you, ninja girl.” Joe’s lips curved in a sexy-sinister smile. “And all of them involve you helpless, naked, and bound.”

Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. A wash of both heat and cold spread across her body. She thought of the eyehooks in the bedroom. Yep, kinksters. Both of them.

“The real question is, how do you want us”—Alex looked over his shoulder at his brother—“to hurt you?” He removed his finger from her swollen clit, making her moan with frustration.

She’d be the first to admit her experience with men had been limited. Her father had married Savannah Duke when she was just twelve, and she’d been shipped off to a girls’ boarding school so her stepmother didn’t have to compete with her for her father’s attention.

He’d died during finals of her senior year, and Savannah—the bitch—hadn’t told her until three days later. Skye had been so pissed, so grieved, she’d disappeared to Japan to study judo. She took on an ascetic lifestyle—no men, no friends, really. She wasn’t a prude; men just hadn’t been a part of her path.

Now, quivering under the Jamison brothers’ heated stares, she wondered how she’d escaped sex all these years. Because if she didn’t scratch this itch soon, she was sure she would die on the spot.

“Are you offering me a plea bargain?” Her voice cracked.

Joe folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not offering you anything until all the stolen property is returned. Then we can negotiate appropriate punishment.”

That word again. It made her pussy contract. At this point, the stolen items were the only leverage she had for her freedom, though. She shook her head. “We bargain first. My freedom for the stolen jewels.”

Joe gave a mirthless laugh. “You’re not in the position to demand anything from us.”

She lifted her chin. “Aren’t I?”

Only she knew where the stolen jewels were hidden.

His face hardened. Alex’s lost the amused benevolence.

Okay, she didn’t want them pissed. Joe was right in that sense—she wasn’t exactly sitting in the catbird’s seat. “I have the jewels—I haven’t fenced anything, yet. But if you call the cops, you’ll never see them again.”

Joe cut his eyes to his brother. “Call Savannah Duke.”

The air left her chest all at once, making it hard to speak. “No,” she gasped. Jesus, no. She couldn’t face the woman under normal circumstances, much less after being caught trying to steal from her. Savannah didn’t need more fuel to humiliate her.

Alex held his thumb poised over the keys on his phone and raised his eyebrows, waiting.

“I’ll get you the jewels. Just”—”her heart thumped erratically, jumping around faster than when she’d been sparring with Alex“—”I just need some reassurances.”

Alex put the phone away, pursed his lips, and looked at Joe, whose face remained implacable. “Like what?”

She licked her lips. “No cops. Complete confidentiality—I want my identity kept from the victims.”

From Savannah Duke.

* * *

Joe eyed the leggy blonde. She was undeniably beautiful. According to their photo match, she was none other than Skye Taylor, daughter of deceased billionaire Ernie Taylor, stepdaughter to Hollywood actress and her intended burglary victim, Savannah Duke.

If her little heist had only been about stealing from her stepmother, she had some complicated personal issues going on. Not that any of that mattered to him, so long as all the stolen goods were returned.

Alex was angling for some kinky punishment play, but his interest wavered. Alex knew it and was working on cementing the fantasy. “Jewels returned, no cops, complete confidentiality for both parties, and you submit to our punishment.”

Skye may be frightened, but Alex definitely flipped her switch with the punishment talk. Her nipples stood rigid, begging to be tortured.

Okay, maybe he could be brought around to Alex’s point of view. It would be a hot scenario and the beautiful captive fascinated him.

Skye licked her berry lips. “Please define punishment.”

“Punishment includes but is not limited to spanking, caning, whipping, sexual slavery, anal punishment—” Alex recited.

“No anal punishment,” she broke in.

“That’s a non-negotiable,” Joe shot back. “You stole from my casino, you’re going to take it in the ass.”

The shock on her face made it hard not to laugh.

“Sex will always be protected, and the punishments won’t cause any lasting harm,” Alex said, still working as mediator.

“Wait, now it’s punishments, plural?”

Alex gave her a feral grin. “Yes. You’ll be our prisoner for the remainder of the weekend. We will punish you and use you as we see fit and you will submit to us in everything. Tomorrow night you’ll be our date to the Valentine’s ball. We will release you by noon on Sunday.”

She eyed them warily. “Why do you want me to be your date to the Valentine’s ball?”

The ball was a fundraiser for the democratic presidential candidate, and the reason for the convergence of so many wealthy and famous people at the Magnifico that weekend.

“Because you’re beautiful,” he answered for Alex. “And famous.”

She licked her lips again, a nervous gesture that was starting to turn him on. He could think of quite a few uses for that little pink tongue… “You know who I am.” It was more of a statement of dismay than a question.

“Yes. We will honor your confidentiality, so long as you hold up your end of the bargain.”

Her shoulders slumped. She croaked, “Okay. Please untie me.”

Alex stooped to cut off the zip-ties and gathered her up into his arms, holding her. She shivered and put her hands on his chest. When she tipped her head up, he claimed her mouth, which she opened for his plundering.

Joe watched the exchange, rearranging his hardened cock in his pants. Skye Taylor was a tasty Valentine’s surprise. “I’m going to order room service,” he said to normalize things. “What do you two want to eat?” It was close to eleven now, which was always the time he was ready for a snack, since they generally stayed up for most of the night.

“Anything chocolate.” Skye looked cheered by the talk of food.

Cute. She was damn cute. They’d received a large order of chocolate truffles for the Valentine’s weekend, so he ordered up a box, along with a bottle of champagne. “I’ll draw up a contract.”

BDSM contracts were fun—not so much as a binding legal agreement, more as a form of foreplay and preparing their sub for what was to come.

Skye held the pieces of her torn shirt together to cover her breasts.

“None of that,” Alex scolded, slapping her hands away. “In fact, I would prefer her naked, wouldn’t you, Joe?”

“Clamp her nipples,” he said, playing straight man and not looking up from his laptop. “And spank her before we go—she needs to feel owned.”

“Go where?” Her voice rose at the last word.

“To retrieve the jewels. After we eat, of course. And after your spanking. Go ahead, Alex, strip her, plug her, and whip her with your belt. If she takes it well, maybe let her come.”

Alex’s lips stretched into a smile.

Skye looked ready to make a break for the closest door.

Joe pretended to be blasé over it all and plopped down on the couch with his laptop to work on the contract.

“Take off your clothes.” Alex backed Skye up a few feet, advancing on her with a predatory prowl.

Joe’s conscience pricked. While this situation was hot, coercing an unwilling participant into their fantasy wouldn’t be cool. “Skye.”

She turned her head, a section of pale blonde hair falling across her slender shoulder.

“We can come up with a different option, if you don’t want the cops and you can’t handle this kind of punishment.”

Alex glowered.

Skye’s chin lifted. “I can handle it.”

* * *

If Joe hadn’t said the thing about letting her come, she’d be more afraid. Every two minutes, she found herself questioning her sanity. Her hormones must have gone haywire and diverted all the blood from her brain to her core. She fervently hoped her instinct to trust these guys wasn’t off.

Alex stepped closer to her, his large, muscled body invading her senses. He was even sexier up close—the chiseled jawline, sensuous lips. His intoxicating masculine scent made her want to spar with him again. She wanted to feel him take charge of her and bend her to his will.

His eyes locked on hers with a heated gaze. As if he knew she didn’t want to stand there and strip for him like a cowed ninny, he reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it up, over her head. “Do all cat burglars wear ninja suits without any underclothes?”

She shrugged, warding off a blush by sheer will. “It makes it easier for crawling in tight spaces.”

His eyes flicked toward the rope still hanging down from the vent. “Well, I approve.” He turned her around so she faced away from him and pushed her torso down over the arm of the sofa.

For a brief moment, she imagined she’d be lucky enough to keep her pants on, but then his thumbs hooked in the waistband and he peeled them down to mid-thigh. Having them lowered rather than removed was infinitely more humiliating. She supposed he knew that.

“I’m going to start with a warm-up, just with my hand. Then you’ll get the plug and the belt. Clasp your hands behind your neck and keep them there.”

She wasn’t even sure what the plug meant, but she could imagine. She didn’t want to nicely submit, even though her pussy dripped for the spanking.

Joe idly glanced up from the very same couch she was bent over. Perhaps noticing she hadn’t complied with Alex’s directions, he reached out and grasped her wrists, pulling them until her arms were straight out in front of her, her breasts pressed flat against the suede couch cushion. “She likes to be forced.”

Joe did not send her smoldering glances. His were the opposite—cool, manicured. Unaffected.

“Noticed that earlier. I’m happy to oblige.”

What was it about being talked about as if she were an object that wound her crank so much?

Before she had time to contemplate it further, Alex’s hand crashed down on her bare ass, harder than she’d imagined a simple hand-spanking would be. Good thing she liked pain.

She drew a breath to prepare herself for the next smack. It didn’t disappoint. Her left cheek received the same treatment then the right again. As far as she could tell, Alex didn’t hold back, smacking her poor ass at a rapid rate. Despite her resolve to enjoy it, she didn’t have time to adjust to the pain and her breath caught in her throat with her gasps. She rose to her tiptoes and squeezed her cheeks together as if to ward off the pain.

Not wanting to let them know what a wimp she was, she bit her lips to keep from crying out, pressing her face down into the cushions.

“How’s she doing?” Alex asked, still whaling away on her ass, which quite possibly had burst into flames.

“Mm.” Joe made a noncommittal sound. “She’s hasn’t settled into it yet.”

How in the hell was she supposed to “settle into” having her ass painted red?

Joe slid closer to her, her wrists still caged in his palm. He reached under her and pulled her nipple.

Oh God. It hurt in the very best way. The twin sensations of having her bottom lit on fire and her nipple pinched and pulled wreaked havoc on her sanity. The pain inflicted by Alex took on a different timbre now. What registered as too painful before now morphed into something erotic and exciting. And still, too painful. But good. Hurty good.

Joe moved to her other nipple, rolling it, pulling it, squeezing. “Spank her pussy.”

The room swooped. Was pussy spanking a real thing?

Alex forced her feet apart and brought his hand up between her legs. The moisture there accentuated the sound of the slap.

“She’s so wet,” Alex murmured.

“Punish that little pussy until she screams for release.”

Too late. She was already screaming. At least in her head. She bit the couch cushion as he slapped her feminine folds, striking her clit. Each smack sent equal measures of pain and need ratcheting through her body. She panted, desperate for release.

“Okay.” Joe spoke, and Alex stopped the spanking. “She’s close. Get a plug and whip her.”

How did Joe know these things about her? If she had a digital display flashing the status of her naughty parts, she’d love to see it herself because, at this point, she was too muddled to know up from down.

Alex left and Joe separated her wrists, rubbing the welts from the zip-ties. “I’m sorry this happened to you, sweetheart,” he said. “I don’t like to see marks anywhere but on your ass.”

His words reassured her. She’d already decided they weren’t psychopaths, but evidence was proving they were actually gentlemen, apart from the sadism part.

The caress of a large hand across her smarting flesh signaled Alex’s return. Something cool and hard pressed against her anus and she yelped, clenching her butt cheeks tight.

Alex delivered several sharp slaps to the backs of her legs. “None of that, ninja girl. I want to see your pretty little pucker. Don’t worry, there’s plenty of lube on this plug.”

Any confusion she had about the purpose of the plug cleared. She didn’t unclench her ass.

Joe’s hand tangled in her hair, and he used it to pull her head up. “Open for Alex, sweetheart. This is one area you don’t want to be forced. Trust me.”

When he put it that way, she had to agree. She drew a deep breath and willed her muscles to loosen.

“More, ninja. This ass belongs to me.”

Her tight sphincter released, and he pushed the plug past the ring of muscle. It burned, which made her tighten again, which of course made it burn even more.

“Exhale, angel.”

She blew out her breath, and he thrust the plug forward. She mewled, but the plug seated, filling her and stretching her anus.

“Good girl,” Joe said, although she wasn’t sure what she’d done to merit the praise. “Now whip her—slow and steady.”

Knowing, by virtue of Joe’s directions, what was coming next did little to ease her apprehension. If anything, it made it worse.

Behind her, the sound of Alex’s belt zipping through the belt loops made her shiver. She tensed, her shoulders creeping up toward her ears.

He didn’t make her wait long. The flick of the leather displacing air reached her ears a split second before the belt struck her flesh. It was both better and worse than she expected. The leather was slappy—a lighter touch than Alex’s hand, so the initial impact didn’t hurt as much, but the line of fire that followed made her howl.

She clamped her lips shut, embarrassed.

“You can make all the noise you like, ninja girl,” Joe said, starting in on her nipples again. “No one will hear you up here.”

Alex whipped her.

She lurched to her toes and hissed.

Joe twisted her nipple.

“Oh my God, what are you doing to me?”

It was too much—the plug in her ass, the whipping, the nipple torture—all at once. Her body trembled with desperate need.

Alex whipped her again and again. The leather struck the plug, jostling it inside her ass.

She gasped.

“Harder,” Joe instructed.

“No, please.”

Oh no, was she really begging? The weekend of slavery had only just begun, and she’d already lost all dignity.

Alex whipped harder, faster.

She screamed and bucked.

Joe tugged at her sore nipples. “Whip her pussy until she comes.”

W-what?

Alex pushed her feet even wider. She fought him this time. There was no way he was whipping her pussy. Uh uh. No.

He mastered her easily, wedging his leg and foot against hers to pin her legs apart. He slapped the end of the belt up against her clit.

It stung, but it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared.

He brought it up again.

She moaned.

He slapped a little harder.

Tears leaked out of her eyes, and she made some incoherent sounds.

Joe wrapped a fist in her hair and lifted her head once more. “Come for us, Skye.”

“I-I…” She didn’t even know what she was trying to say.

The belt flicked her again and again. Suddenly, Alex’s fingers were between her legs, rubbing her clit.

Sensation exploded. Lights danced behind her eyes as her pussy clenched and contracted in the most intense orgasm she’d ever had, not that masturbation climaxes even counted.