Page 55 of Marrying the Billionaire Single Dad
"I’m not."
I take a step back, hold her still with my grip on her neck.
"Last chance," I snap.
"For what?"
"To tell the truth."
"I… I don’t understand."
I take aim, then bring down my palm with such force on her arse that her entire body jerks. She rises to the tips of her toes. Her hair flows around her shoulders. "Ohmygod," she screams.
"Wrong answer." I spank the curve of her butt again and again.
She howls. "Stop," she gasps.
"Answer me first."
"What’s the question."
"Do I make you nervous?"
"Yes."
"Do I turn you on?"
"Yes."
"Will you defy me again?"
"Yes," she stutters, then gasps. "No, no, you bastard, I won’t. I’ll do what you tell me to."
"Too late, Flower." I hook my finger into the V of the neckline at the back of her dress and tug. The material rips, the sound slicing through the space.
Goosebumps rise on her skin. "What the hell—?" She turns her head and I tear the flimsy material from neck to hem. The fabric parts, leaving the exposed length of her body from shoulder to hip to the cleft between her thighs to the turn of her beautiful ankles. My groin hardens; my cock lengthens.
She kicks back. I angle my body to avoid her, then plant my thigh between her legs. She wriggles her arse, and Jesus, the warmth of her center sinks through the fabric of my slacks. I lean in, press the weight of my crotch into her back. A trembling grips her. She plants her palm flat against the pane.
Below us, a white mare gallops by, followed by a dark stallion. Nature in action, the dominant and the female with whom he was meant to mate. I place my cheek close to hers, and another shudder rolls up her spine. "Shh," I whisper, "I won’t hurt you."
"Oh?" She turns to glare at me, the green of her eyes burning bright, "What do you call this then?"
"Taming the shrew."
"I am no shrew," she protests.
"Sure could have fooled me, sweetheart, for you definitely need a firm hand."
"I don’t need anything from you. I don’t need you," she snarls.
"Wrong." I lower my head and nip on her lip.
She moans.
I rub my thumb over the pulse that flutters at the hollow of her neck. Her pulse rate ratchets up; the sweet scent of her arousal deepens. I slide my other hand between her legs. "You’re fucking soaking." I press little kisses to the corner of her mouth, make my way up to the shell of her ear. I bite her ear lobe and her entire body jolts. "See how you respond to me?"
"That’s…uh…. Just physical."
