Page 7 of Forbidden Billionaire
“Ready for more?”
“I’m ready to get it over with.”
No, she’s not. Not with the way she’s rolling her hips and staying perfectly in place.
I give her another smack.
“Are you done yet?” She looks back at me.
“Just getting you warmed up.”
Taking time to linger, I increase my speed a little. If I was wanting to make a point, I’d use more force. But as I continue spanking her glorious rear end, I realize I’m making an entirely different point. That I want her to crave more.
I slow my pace, rubbing her gently between my well-placed swats.
Somewhere along the line, she stopped complaining and hurrying me along. Instead, she’s instinctively pushing back toward me.
Unable to resist, I lightly touch her between her thighs, then stroke her through the damp fabric.
“Oh dear God!”
Every instinct I have screams at me to pin her down and push her past the point of no return—but I don’t. She has to want it. And I vow she will.
She tries to move against my hand, but I pull back. That wasn’t part of the deal we made. I honor my word.
Forcing myself to show restraint, I step back and flip her skirt back into place.
As if jolted, she scampers backward and scoots off the mattress. Once she’s standing, she whirls to face me, her long, dark hair wild around her face, her chin back in its former, defiant position.
“Tomorrow. Seven a.m. Come back.”
“What the hell are you talking about? This was a one-and-done agreement.”
Her eyes flash, as if she despises me. Or does her reaction to me frighten her? “You need a job.”
“I don’t need more of…” She rubs her rear. “That.”
“Are you certain?”
Her mouth opens. “Hard to believe you’re even more of an asshole than I thought.”
“Mmm.” Unconcerned, I walk toward the bar area that has the whiskey I’ve been promising myself.
She hurries toward the door, then stops to glance back over her shoulder. Her lips are slightly swollen, maybe from worrying them. Her eyes are wide.
“Oh, Seraphina?”
Her nostrils flare slightly, as if she’s fighting anger. Or maybe her need for one spank? I can always hope.
“What?” Her voice is a snap of irritation.
“Yes, sir,” I correct her.
She sighs, but she doesn’t repeat what I said. “Something else?”
“Wear the maid’s uniform.”
“Fuck you.” She mouths the words but doesn’t dare let them out of her mouth.
