Page 5 of His Little Spitfire

Scowling, I glare at him. My eyes are a little watery, much to my dismay. I can only imagine how red my cheeks are, both sets.

He sighs, his frustration pouring out of him. Without warning, he strikes my ass again, this time, his thumb grazing the outside of my pussy. “Your thoughts are written all over that face of yours, Parada.”

The bastard cracks a smirk, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Yeah, he’s enjoying himself alright.

My toes curl as I try not to focus on the stroking motion of his fingers. He’s making my pussy tingle, and I don’t know why. Everything about this is screamingwrong. I shouldn’t be bent over this man’s lap. He shouldn’t be touching me.

I can feel the slickness of my panties after two moresmacks. Even as I’m left squirming against his lap, it’s the touch I’m given after that keeps me from cursing him. I grit my teeth to keep silent. I don’t want him to know my body is trying to turn this into something other than a ‘punishment’.

“Are we done?” His fingers ghost over once more, the heat of my wounds seeping through the fabric of my jeans. “Are you going to be good and let me fucking sleep?”

My hands ball up in fists tight enough to carve crescent shapes into my palms. So hard, I’m surprised I don’t draw blood. When I take too long to answer him, I whine when he squeezes one of my cheeks hard.

“Yes!” Barking out the word, I glare at the ground. I can’t look him in the eye. Not after he’s done this.

Finally, he releases me. I all but tumble to the ground, too shameful to pick myself up right away.

“Try to pull another stunt like this, and I’ll punish you the very same.” There’s promise in his voice, and I believe him. “Next time, it’ll be skin-to-skin contact, understand?”

I try to imagine those scarred hands rubbing my bare cheeks. His fingers would be so close to my pussy, he’d notice the moisture collecting from this confusing experience.

Trying to pick myself up, I realize how much my limbs feel like jello. It’s like I’ve completely forgotten how to use them.

Rage licks at my veins from embarrassment. Finally, lifting my gaze to look at him, seeing his blank expression pisses me off more than his erection does. He hasn’t brought attention to it, but there’s no denying his arousal.

Urzo Bertelli is a fucked up human being.

“I mean it. Piss me off anywhere, and I won’t think twice to punish you whether we’re alone or in a room full of people.” He moves to circle the bed and ever so casually goes to lay back down. “Go to sleep, or stay there, I don’t care. Just stay in here or else.”

I don’t need to ask him whator elseentails.

Using the bed to stand back up, my legs wobble. Body on fire, I snatch a pillow. Glaring at him, I move toward the attached bathroom and slam the door shut. Hurrying and locking it just in case he gets pissy, I flick on the light and look at my reflection.

My cheeks are flushed a deep crimson, and my bottom lip is swollen and throbbing from the force of my bite. I don’t even want to get started on the mess of my hair.

Turning around, I grimace as I pull down my pants to take in the damage done. I wince as I see marks of red fingers. My skin is hot to the touch, and it aches as I push one fingertip against it. As the pain radiates, my toes curl.

While I’m taking in a sight I’ve never seen before, I pull my pants down another inch and discover something even more disturbing than the evidence of his punishment.

My underwear is soaked all the way through. Not just the thin fabric, but there’s even a spot on my pants.

Urzo spent so much time rubbing his fingers against my ass. There’s no way he didn’t notice.

The sensation of being spanked didnotexcite me. This… is just something I can’t explain.

Tearing my eyes away from my reflection, I shove my pants back onto my hips and move to the bathtub. No, he doesn’t even have a tub, just a walk-in shower. Damn it all.

Hoping I’d be able to sleep a little bit of comfort, I opt to sleep on the floor instead. Anything is better than sleeping next to that brute.

Just because I can’t put up a fight, doesn’t mean I have to like the guy. If I keep up my antics, maybe he’ll beg Santino to reverse his decision.

I can only hold my breath and hope that’ll be the outcome. If not, there’s no way I’m going to survive being married to this guy.

I’d prefer to be asphyxiated than to follow through with his intentions for me.

3

Urzo

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