Page 4 of His Little Spitfire

I’m eager, swinging my leg over. One foot over the rail, my other foot doesn’t get the chance to lift before a thick arm wraps around my torso, tugging me right back.

For such a brute, this sonofabitch has steps as light as a feather.

“Release me!” Crying out as my soon-to-be husband shuts the door with his other hand, I wiggle and jerk against his hold. “Right now!”

He grunts when I elbow his chin. It’s enough to free me from his prison, but hardly for long. Just as I’m let go, I’m pressed against the wall right next to my near escape.

I fight, because that’s all I can do. When I try to scratch, Urzo easily captures my wrists and shoves them above my head.

“You need to calm down.” His eyes narrow when I continue to squirm. Sleep laces his voice, and he’s acting like he’s cranky that I’ve woken him up from not getting enough sleep.

“You clearly don’t know a thing about women.” I kick him in the leg when his iron grip doesn’t loosen. “Don’ttell one to calm down.”

He growls low, and that scarred lip curls in distaste. Looking at me with eyes as dark as the night, he doesn’t blink. He looks pissed.

Like he wants to kill me. His patience is already so thin, I’m surprised he hasn’t already.

Yeah, we’re a match made in heaven, alright. Two people meant to be together.

I didn’t agree to this arranged marriage, and I think he only did because he’s got a kink for pleasing his family.

I try to headbutt him, and he bares his teeth like a wild animal. Hell, more like a predator. The way he stares at me… I tremble involuntarily. I refuse to be afraid of this man, my body be damned.

“I will not stop,” I hiss between my teeth. “Once I undo the brainwashing of my sister, I’m going to rescue her and leave this entire madness behind.”

His eyes narrow, his brows coming together. His jaw flexes as I can see the thoughts spiraling in his head. Finally, he makes up his mind. Instead of letting me in on what is going on in that brutish head of his, he takes my wrists and pulls me away from the wall and toward the bed.

“All the men in your life have clearly spoiled you. Sorry to say, but I’m not going to do such a thing. Bad behavior gets punished around here, and you’ve been fucking terrible since the moment you showed up. A goddamn headache for everyone.”

What happens next is a blur. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, and I’m staring at the carpet because he’s yanked me over his lap.

Oh no. Fuck this. This man is not going topunishme.

Before I can think of trying to free my hands from his iron grip, I suddenly feel a warmth against my back. My shirt is so thin, I feel the entire trail down to my ass.

A similar heat swarms my face as this man squeezes my ass hard enough to bring a groan to my lips. What thefuck.

A man has never touched me like this. Hell,I’vebarely touched myself down there. I’ll be damned if I let this manspankme. What does he think I am, a child?

If he thinks this will be what solves all of his problems, then he has another thing coming.

I can feel his cock swelling against my stomach. He’s enjoying himself, the bastard. He’s fucked up in the head. All of these Bertelli men are. They think they can get whatever they want if they use violence. My brother is the same way. I can’t take any of them anymore.

Gritting my teeth, I look back at him. “I’ll slit your throat, I swear to—”

Crying out as his palm strikes my ass, I hiss as the pain sizzles out. Even though he’s spanking me through my pants, I can feel the heat from my skin radiating. Even more when he suddenly squeezes my sore cheek again, this time spreading the pain.

“You want to finish that sentence, princess?” He still sounds so angry, but there’s something there. A tingle I don’t think I’m too fond of. Now that he’s starting to touch my ass, I feel the tingles from his fingers making contact. He’s stroking the curve of my ass, purposely putting pressure where it hurts.

He’s using that nickname again.Princess.Like he truly believes I’m a spoiled brat. He doesn’t have a clue. I haven’t had a single thing handed to me.

“Fuck you.” Spitting the words out, I flinch when his hand comes back down. It makes it worse and I’m left whimpering.

My thighs squirm against his lap as he squeezes the aching muscle again. Like he’s waiting for me to retaliate, like he knows me better than I know myself, I fight to speak or grit my teeth.

I should’ve stabbed him while he was sleeping. Biggest regret of my life.

I’ve never been the type to swallow down my words. Never been the type to back down like some frightened animal.

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