Page 78 of The Christmas Wife

"Like you’re Santa and I’m a naughty child." She swallows.

"And have you been a bad girl?" I lower my voice to a hush, "Tell me, Princess."

"Yes," she breathes, "I have been terrible. I disobeyed you. I willfully misinterpreted your directive, I?—"

My palm connects with her butt.

"Ow," she howls, "What are you?—?"

I raise my hand, bring it down on her arse with enough force that her entire body jolts.

"Ah!" she cries out.

Crack, crack, crack. I slap her on alternate arse cheeks.

"Argh." She throws her head back, her shoulders shudder, she squirms, and tries to pull away.

I grip her hip. "Stay," I command.

A ripple shivers up her spine. She tenses, clenches her thighs together.

"Or you can go."

She draws in a breath.

So do I.

Will she go? Will she take this opportunity I am giving her to get away?

"Nothing standing in your way, Princess," I remind her. "You can leave right now. Walk away, and I won’t stop you."

"The money," her voice is low, but I hear her. Of course, it comes down to that.

"I’ll pay you for the two nights you spent here."

"You…you would?" She half turns, then changes her mind and positions her head to stare forward. "You’d do that?"

"Of course," I mutter. "I’m a jerk, not a cheat."

"And I’m not leaving."

"Say that again."

She gulps, the sound loud in the silence of the room.

"I… I want to stay."

"You want to see this through?"

She nods.

"Why?"

"You’re not the only one who wants to fulfill your side of the bargain."

"Good." I slap her arse.

"Hey," she snarls, "I told you I wasn’t leaving."

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