Page 143 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

The question hangs there, loaded with more than just its surface meaning. My body responds even as my mind rebels.

“Would it matter if it was?” I challenge, stepping toward him instead of away. “It’s just physical, right? Just part of our arrangement?”

“Ava,” he warns, his voice dropping to that register that turns my insides to liquid.

“What?” I press closer, deliberately provocative. “Are you going to remind me about our ‘no emotional involvement’ clause? Or tell me how business partnerships are so much cleaner than messy feelings?”

His jaw tightens. “You’re pushing me.”

“Am I?” I tilt my head, a deliberate challenge. “Maybe I just want to know where we stand. Twenty-three days left, right? Might as well get our money’s worth.”

I see the moment something snaps in him. His hand catches my wrist, not painfully but with unmistakable intent.

“You want to know where we stand?” His voice is dangerously soft. “You’re standing on very thin ice right now.”

“What are you going to do, Gideon?” I taunt, heart racing. “Punish me?”

His eyes narrow. “Don’t tempt me, Ava. Unless you’re sure that’s what you want.”

I should back down. I should apologize for being childish and emotional. Instead, I reach up with my free hand and deliberately push against his chest.

“Maybe I do want that,” I whisper, shocking myself with the admission.

In one fluid motion, Gideon sits on the edge of the bed and pulls me over his lap. The towel slips, leaving me exposed. I gasp, both from the sudden movement and the realization of what’s about to happen.

“Last chance to tell me to stop,” he says, his voice rough with restraint.

My heart hammers so hard I’m sure he can feel it against his thigh. “Don’t stop.”

The first strike catches me completely off guard. Not hard enough to hurt, but definitely firm enough to get my attention. My breath catches in my throat.

“This what you wanted, vixen?” His hand comes down again, a little harder this time. “To provoke me?”

“I—” The words stick in my throat as another spank lands. The sting blooms across my skin, followed by an unexpected wave of heat that has nothing to do with pain.

“You thought you could push me and I wouldn’t push back?” Another strike, another gasp. “You forget who you’re dealing with.”

My body responds in ways I never anticipated, arousal building with each careful spank. I’m mortified by how much I’m enjoying this, yet I can’t bring myself to want it to stop.

“Answer me,” Gideon demands, his hand pausing. “Is this whatyou wanted?”

“Yes,” I admit, my voice barely audible.

His hand slides between my legs, finding the evidence of my arousal. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his tone both surprised and pleased. “So wet for me.”

I should be embarrassed, but instead I press against his hand, seeking more contact. He obliges, his fingers exploring my pussy with practiced skill.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, and the words send a shiver through me that has nothing to do with temperature. “Taking your punishment so well.”

In one smooth motion, he flips me onto my back on the bed, looming over me with hunger in his eyes. I reach for his belt buckle, suddenly desperate to feel him. He helps me undress him, revealing his hard cock straining against his boxers.

“This is what you do to me,” he growls, pushing his boxers down. “Make me lose control.”

He rolls on a condom, and when he finally enters me, it’s with a force born of frustration and need. My body welcomes him, adjusting to his size as it always does. His gaze locks with mine as he establishes a rhythm that’s just this side of punishing.

“Hold onto me,” he commands, and I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him deeper.

It feels different this time. More urgent, more desperate. As if we’re both trying to say through our bodies what we can’t with words. His hands grip my hips with bruising intensity, each thrust a statement, a question, a demand.

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