Milo walked out of the dark room, glancing back three times before he reached the door. Part of him hoped Salvatore would call him back, or order him to stay in the room a little longer, but the Don just stood there in the center of the room, watching him go without a word.
The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence of the corridor rushed back in.
Milo let out a long, shaky breath and made his way down the hallway toward his room. As the adrenaline from the paddle started to fade, something else took its place. A sudden, tight heat low in his stomach.
He glanced down and felt his face go warm.
He was hard.
Painfully so, the fabric of his pajama pants doing nothing to hide it.
He hadn't even noticed, not while he was blindfolded and bound and breathing through everything Salvatore was giving him.
But now, alone, every step sent fabric dragging against skin that felt far too sensitive, and it was almost too much.
He nearly ran the rest of the way to his room.
