Page 34 of Mistletoe Missus
“Yes, you are. This is my house and my rules,” Mitt expressed as he grabbed my shoulders and moved to be at eye level with me.
I shook my head.
“No. Your stuff...” I said, shaking all over and pointing at my chest. “Is mine too.”
“But you’re my wife, and youwillsleep in my bed.”
“No, I will—” My disagreement blew away and turned into a surprise yelp.
Mitt picked me right up off the floor and into his solid arms. Shocked was an understatement, and he was so damn warm. The chill running through me calmed, and my body slowed its vibrations. But I wiggled in his embrace and hit my palms against his firm chest.
“Put me down! Put me—” My disobedience turned into bewilderment as Mitt hoisted me over his shoulder.
My bare ass cheek was right beside his face and my thong was on full display. Mitt would see skin if there was a mirrored reflection on the way to his bedroom, which was where I knew he was taking me—straight to his bed—and the thought made my pussy wet.
“Such a bratty wife...” Mitt groaned as he gave my ass a swat. “Your defiant attitude makes my blood boil.”
“And you make me want to scream!” I cried out in frustration.
“Don’t worry about that, angel,” Mitt breathed against my ass cheek and bit the tender flesh. “I will make you scream inmybed.”
I pounded on Mitt’s backside all the way through the mansion and angry grunts came from me like a furious animal. I felt as furious as the Abominable Snowman trying to escape. My hair was unruly and kept getting in my face as I thrashed. The heels on my feet were long lost as I watched them tumble down the stairwell as he kept climbing the steps. I tried to move my legs, but it was no use because he held them tight. I was trapped, and the only thing I could do was irritate him. Annoy him to the point he’d let me go, and he did.
Mitt dropped me right down onto his bed.
My chest heaved as I lay on my backside—my tits bouncing with each ragged breath I took. I was fuming. How dare he treat me as he did! I was his wife, and he treated me as if I was a wild animal he had to tame.
I spat out, “What the hell is wrong with you?”
I scrambled to fix my hiked-up dress, which was past my navel, but Mitt’s eyes beat me to the chase. His heated stare burned into my flesh like laser beams and left a fiery path. The burn ached and lit a fire deep in the pit of my stomach. An inferno no one could put out but him.
Mitt tilted his head and pointed at his chest. “Me? What the hell is wrong with me? What about you?”
I jumped up off the bed. “Don’t you turn this around on me! I’m not the one who got us into this mess to begin with!”
“But you gladly walked right into this marriage. Didn’t you, angel?”
“Gah!” I cried out with frustration and stomped my bare feet toward the bathroom. “I’m going to go drown myself in the bathtub just to get out of this.”
“Then I’ll have to break the damn door down and save you,” Mitt said as he walked toward his walk-in closet.
“You’re insufferable!” I yelled after him.
“And you are trying my patience,” Mitt said as he came back with a dress shirt and flung it at me. “Now go be a good girl and get dressed for bed so I can tuck my wife in.”
I slammed the door in Mitt’s face.
EIGHTEEN
Scarred
Tinsley
Anger wasn’t even the word to describe the emotions twirling inside of me like a hazardous snowstorm. Mitt had pushed my buttons on top of already being upset with him and his gloomy outlook on life. My sunshine was a mix of stormy clouds clashing with his darkness—a fucked-up weather forecast everyone would hate, but we kept our hatred to ourselves. The happy newlywed couple was a total fake.
“Damn that overbearing man...” I mumbled to myself as I scrubbed my face until it was red and all my makeup was gone.
Water beads trickled down my face and the soap suds washed away down the drain. I had no hairbrush, so I finger combed through my messy hair. The curls were untamable and in need of care. Hopefully, my belongings would be here by the morning so I could appear presentable. I was sure Mitt would ensure I did because our image was everything at this point, and my feelings didn’t matter.
