Page 23 of Marrying the Billionaire Single Dad
"What’s that?"
"I said,no!’
Whack! Pain grips my backside. "What the hell—?" I howl. "You slapped me?" I turn my head to see his face, ready to rip into him.
He jerks his chin up. "Stay facing forward."
I grit my teeth and comply. "Why…?” I stutter, “Why did you—?"
"You don’t get to ask the questions." He spanks me again.
I cry out. "Oh, and you can?" I sputter.
He slaps my butt and the pain blooms up my spine. Tears spring up in my eyes, and moisture blooms between my legs. What the hell? I’ve never been spanked before… Hell, all of my previous partners have been… Civilized, disciplined… Boring? I shake my head.No, no, no, don’t go there.I want him to hold the door open for me, just as long as he slaps my ass when I walk past him. What the hell am I thinking? I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’d prefer a man who breaks the headboard of my bed rather than my heart, right?
I snicker aloud, then sense him straighten behind me. "What’s so funny?"
"Nothing," I mumble.
"Something is." He palms my butt.
I shiver. "You…you…don’t want to know."
"Oh, but I do." He drags his knuckles up the valley between my butt cheeks and I shudder. "Damian," I whisper, "please…"
"Please what?"
"Please don’t."
He slaps my arse again and I whimper. He spanks each arse cheek one after the other. I groan. He does it again. I press my forehead into the glass, flatten my palm against the glass barrier and thrust my butt out. More. I want more.
He steps back. "Your time is up."
"Bu…but… We spent most of the hour in transit to get here."
"London traffic." He shakes his head. "It can be a bitch, right?"
"But what about my, uh...my..."
"Say it, babe." I hear the grin in his voice. What a bastard. He knows why he invited me here. What does he want me to do, beg for my orgasms?
"That would be a start."
"So now you can read my mind?" I huff.
"I wouldn’t be as successful as I am if I weren’t perceptive."
"An aptitude you’ve clearly lost, considering your last two albums were flops, as was your Christmas single."
Silence. A beat, then another. The hair on the nape of my neck rises.
"You’re right."
"I am?"
"Of course. It’s no secret that my career is in the toilet, but I’ll tell you one thing I’m still good at."
"What?"
