Page 12 of The Billionaire's Buy-In

I throw the crystal tumbler of whiskey against the wall, not pausing as it hits the wall and shatters. Striding from the suite, and down the stairs, I shoulder past the burly bouncers guarding the velvet rope leading to the upper floors.

The large crowd parts like the Red Sea for Moses as I make my way to the table where Abbie is holding court and shaking her ass. The more I see, the angrier I become. She’s surrounded by a crowd of club douchebags staring up at her as if she’s the answer to their horny dreams.

Dream on motherfuckers. She’s only leaving with me tonight.

The need to vent my anger is consuming me and is fueled by the sight of the male crowd salivating over her round, perky ass and killer body. The gold chain mail of her dress is now riding up her legs, exposing her luscious white thighs, perilously close to revealing her pussy for all to see. When she bends at the waist to grab another drink from the most aggressive douche of all the douchebags, I swear to God I can see the tips of her nipples as her breasts sway with her movement.

Apparently, the douche sees what I see because he leans in, hand extended, grabbing her ankle, throwing her off balance. Her arms windmill to keep from falling from the table into his arms. Immediately, I pull my Glock from the holster hidden beneath my suit coat with one hand, the other reaching out to catch her if needed.

“Back. The. Fuck. Up.” I point the pistol at his head, flicking off the safety. I’m shoving the barrel into his temple with enough force that it's going to leave a circular indentation on the side of his forehead. He winces, probably realizing the next move he makes will determine if he leaves with a bullet hole in the other side of his head.

The music grinds to a halt and the club, which is normally filled with the noise of drinking and partying, goes ominously silent. Abbie stops moving when she sees what I’m doing to her biggest fan. Dude turns to me, now sweating bullets, and puts his hands in the air. “I … I didn’t mean anything. I was just having fun with her. I thought she was fair game.”

Wrong response, fuck stick. I lower the gun and pull the trigger.

The sound echoes off the walls of the now quiet club dance floor, making the partygoers gasp collectively.

That’s one pinky toe he isn’t getting back. He screams like a chick, his eyes rolling back in his head, as he proceeds to pass out, hitting the floor with a hard “thunk.”

Holstering my pistol, I reach over, grab Abbie by her thighs, and toss her none too gently over my shoulder. I make sure one hand is holding down the back of her dress so no other fucker can get a glimpse of the treasure that belongs to me. I look over and kick the idiot who’s now crying and whimpering on the floor.

“Take care of this piece of shit,” I tell one of the bouncers. He quickly gets the attention of another employee. Both men grab him by his arms, sliding him out the door, leaving a trail of blood in their wake. Fucker is still blubbering like a baby, but he won’t be back.

Shooting someone has taken the edge off my anger, but I need more.

Full of energy and needing an outlet for it, I decide spanking her ass will be the perfect start. It’ll also demonstrate who controls this relationship.

Spoiler alert: it ain’t Abbie Bates.

She doesn’t start bitching until I’m halfway to the penthouse, likely because she’s still in shock over the fact I just shot a man. I wince in pain as she hits her small fists against my back, thumping my kidneys. I continue to stay silent, slapping the button on the elevator panel to take us up.

“You shot him! With your gun!” She finds her voice and shrieks at a decibel loud enough to puncture an eardrum. I’m ignoring her.

“You actually shot a guy! He didn’t do anything, asshole! Are you a monster?”

Again, I continue to ignore her, not trusting myself to respond.

“You promised me a night in the club! I guess you are a liar, too?”

One of my eyes twitches. Keep it together, I tell myself. Two more floors to go.

“Hey, fucker! I’m talking to you.” She’s now trying to pinch my ass to get my attention.

I grit my teeth and inhale a deep breath. One more floor.

“Swear to God, Chord, I’m gonna puke all over your elevator! Put me down!”

The doors slide open and I stomp inside, my heavy footsteps thundering through the living room to my bedroom.

“Deafanda liar! Let me go!” She continues to struggle in vain. My hand itches to slap her ass.

When we reach my room, I throw her off my shoulder on the bed. Her body bounces, causing her breasts to jiggle and her skirt to ride up her thighs. Her bare, pale pink pussy is exposed to my gaze.

“Where are your panties?” I bark the question accusingly. I may actually pass out. The thought of anyone in the club seeing Abbie’s pussy causes black dots to swim in my periphery, and my blood pressure has gone through the roof. “You were doing a table dance with no fucking panties on?”

I glare down at her as I loom over her slight frame, my arms braced stiffly on either side of her, still not trusting myself. I want to both spank her ass and fuck her. I just can’t decide what to do first.

She gulps, looks guilty, but meets my gaze without flinching. The little temptress knew exactly what she was doing when she decided to forgo underwear and shake her ass for all the club to see.

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