Page 93 of The Serpent's Bride
“That,” I said calmly, rubbing the reddened skin afterward, “is for threatening me.”
Her breathing turned ragged. Interesting. Very interesting.
“I hate you so fucking much, Leo Moretti,” she whispered again.
I spanked her a second time. Harder. “Keep hating me,SignoraMoretti. It only makes my cock harder.”
Chiara cried out into the sheets, body arching helplessly against my lap. Heat rushed beneath my skin watching it happen. Watching her fight between outrage and the pleasure she clearly didn’t understand yet.
“You hate me,” I repeated softly. “And yet you’re soaking my thigh again.”
“No I’m not,” she snapped. “I don’t want you. Never did.”
I slid my hand between her legs. Wet. Completely soaked. A dark laugh left my throat.
“You poor thing,” I murmured near her ear. “You don’t even know your own body yet. But I do.”
Her entire body shuddered.
“Stop talking-” she said, but I interrupted quickly. Another sharp smack. This time the sound that escaped her barely resembled anger anymore. My grip tightened on her hip.
“Look at you,” I said quietly. “That sweet little wife hiding underneath all the claws.”
“I’m not sweet,” she whispered. “I’ll kill you.”
“No,” I smiled, dragging my fingers teasingly along the inside of her thigh while she trembled over my lap. “You’ll die trying, clearly.”
Another spank. Chiara moaned before she could stop herself. The sound hit me like gasoline poured over fire. I went still for one dangerous second. Then I leaned down beside her ear. “You’re going to come from this, aren’t you?”
Silence. Then her thighs clenched helplessly around my hand. I smiled slowly against her skin.
“God,” I murmured. “You really are a perfect prize.”
Chiara went completely still across my lap after that. Not physically. Her body still trembled every time my hand brushed her bare skin. But emotionally. Like she hated herself for reacting to me at all. The realization settled heavily in my chest. I loosened my grip on her hip slowly, running my palm over the reddened skin instead of striking her again. Her breathing hitched at the softer touch.
“That’s enough,” I said quietly.
Her head lifted sharply from the sheets. “What?”
“We’re done.”
Confusion flickered across her flushed face first. Then disbelief. “You’re joking.”
“Nope.”
I untied the silk restraints from her wrists carefully. Chiara pulled her arms back against herself, rubbing at the marks the fabric left behind while glaring at me with watery eyes.
“You can’t just stop,” she snapped.
I almost smiled at that. My spoiled little wife looked genuinely offended I wasn’t taking her apart further. “Watch me, baby.”
Her mouth fell open slightly. Then anger rushed back in full force, probably because it was easier than admitting disappointment. “You’re a bastard.”
“And you hate me?” I smirked.
“You can’t just…” She stopped abruptly, clearly realizing where the sentence was heading.
Can’t just leave me wanting you.
