Page 71 of Reckless Billionaire's Ruthless Claim

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his wallet, his expression twisted in fury.

"This is what you’re with him for, right?" His voice was razor-sharp. "How much did he give you? You need money? Here it is." He yanked out a handful of black cards and shoved them into her hands. "Take them. Every single one is loaded with more money than you could ever spend in a fucking lifetime."

Ellie stared at the cards, her blood boiling. Then, she ripped her hands back, letting the cards slip from her fingers, watching them scatter to the ground at his feet.

"I don’t need it anymore! You can keep your money. When I needed it the most—Jeremy was there to help me."

Sawyer’s entire face darkened. His fury hit its breaking point.

"If you needed money, why the fuck didn’t you call me?" he barked. "You didn’t even think of giving me a fucking call when you needed help?"

"Oh, like you’d just hand it over without any tricks?" Ellie scoffed, rolling her eyes at him. "Sawyer Stark, I know you too well. I’ve spent three years with you. I’ve done everything for you. You treat me like a butler—no, like a dog you trained to be at your beck and call."

"That’s fucking it!" Sawyer roared.

Before Ellie could react, he marched over, threw her over his shoulder, and turned to head inside the house.

"Hey! Let go of her!" Jeremy barked, grabbing Sawyer’s arm.

Sawyer barely glanced at him before growling to the security, "Get him the fuck off my property. I don’t want even his damn shadow lurking around here."

Ellie struggled, kicking and shoving against Sawyer’s back, but he didn’t loosen his grip. He carried her straight into the house, up the stairs, and into the bedroom before tossing her onto the bed. He hovered over her, his chest heaving with rage.

"Ellie, are you out of your fucking mind?" His voice was dangerously low. "Do you really think I’ve ever treated you badly?"

He ripped his shirt off, tossing it carelessly to the floor. Then, without warning, he climbed over her, grabbing both of her wrists in one hand and pinning them above her head. His other hand seized her jaw, forcing her to meet his glare.

"Do you really like that bastard?" His voice was pure venom, his patience snapped, his rage a living, breathing thing. The room felt suffocating under the shadow of his fury. "Do you love him? You love it when he fucking touches you? Like this? Like I touch you?"

His lips hovered just above hers, his breath hot, his eyes ablaze.

Ellie’s heart pounded, but she refused to let it show.

Instead, she met his glare head-on and whispered defiantly, "Yes. I love it. I love when we play in bed. In fact, I even think he’s so much better than you that I wa—"

Before she could finish, his mouth crashed onto hers, silencing her words. His grip tightened, his body pressing against hers, swallowing her protests.

Sawyer got off the bed, dragging Ellie along with him before pushing her against the back of the couch. His grip was firm, his body radiating dominance as he towered over her. With a swift motion, he pushed up her dress, exposing her bare skin to the cool air, and dragged her panties down, letting them pool at her feet.

“Stay still,” he commanded, his voice low, rough with restraint.

Ellie shivered, her breath uneven. “Sawyer, stop it!” she snapped, attempting to break free. But his strong arm was already pinning her upper body down against the couch while his other hand lifted one of her legs, forcing her knee onto the cushion. The position left her completely open to him, vulnerable under his piercing gaze.

“You deserve punishment for the filthy things you say to me, Ellie,” Sawyer growled, his breath hot against her ear.

A shiver ran through her spine, her core clenching involuntarily at his words. She heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled, the leather sliding free from his pants in one swift motion. He wrapped it around his hand, folding it over. Then—whack—the first strike landed on her bare ass.

A sharp gasp slipped past her lips as the sting bloomed across her skin.

“Sawyer—” she choked out, her fingers gripping the couch.

Another smack echoed in the air before she could even take a full breath.

Her body jerked, the pain sharp, yet something deep inside her responded in a way that made her toes curl. His large palm traced over the heated skin, stroking her tender flesh as if to soothe her, only to make her anticipate the next blow even more.

Then, without warning, he brought the belt down again—smack—the impact harder this time, making her cry out.

Her nails dug into the couch. “Ow… oh… oh… it hurts,” she whimpered, yet her hips arched into the sensation, betraying her.

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