Page 17 of The English Billionaire's Obsession

“The original owner designed it after a New York loft,” I tell her. “So you should feel right at home, American Amelia.”

She turns in a circle, looking around the large room. I try to let myself savor her reaction, but I can’t stop the idea that there are pound signs in her eyes.

“I’ll find my own place tomorrow,” she says, “but this place is amazing.”

“You can stay here as long as you need.”

She shakes her head slowly. “I’m just an intern. I—”

“It’s not safe,” I snap. “You’re staying here.”

She huffs, then strides right up to me with that signature glare, the one I’m coming to both fear and love.

Love. I need to slow down.

“You can’t expect me to stay here until I know what’s going on with you… and with me. You showed up at the housebeforeanything happened, before the graffiti. That means you must’ve gone into Realization Global’s records to find my address. Why would you do that?”

I grab her hips and lean down, meaning to kiss her, but she pushes my chest and steps back.

“No, Thomas. You can’t just keep kissing me every time I ask a question—a veryreasonablequestion. Why?”

Are you trying to figure out how interested I am? Are you working on your plan to snare the billionaire?Or is there something real here?

I don’t ask any of this out loud, though I urgently want and need to know.

“Maybe I’m tired of all the goddamn questions,” I growl, knowing I’m being an arse but not giving a damn.

Ever since I laid eyes on her video, I’ve been unable to think about anything else, to imagine being with anybody else, but now that she’s here, I realize I can’t say it. I can’t tell her how much she means to me. It’s a goddamn joke. Maybe that’s why I give into the other part of my attraction, the animal instinct that tells me I can do anything I want with her.

“In fact, ” I stalk forward, relieved when she doesn’t move away, “if you keep going, I will have to punish you, my little American.”

She bites her lip, just like she did in the video. My balls ache, and the seed expands inside them as if trying to get me to take her right now, to bend her over and claim her like a beast, doggy style.

She releases her lip. “You can’t just…”

I can, and I do. Leaning forward, I reach around and bring my hand down on her ass in a soft kiss of a spank. She gasps, her eyes snapping open wide as she stares at me. Her juicy ass jiggles in the tight skirt, which causes more precome to leak hotly out of my dick, the shimmer traveling up and down her body.

“What are you doing?” she whimpers.

“Anything.”

I spank her again.

“I…”

And again.

“Want.”

Each time, her moaning becomes more urgent, higher in pitch, as if I’m knocking down the walls of her resolve, her ability to sayno, and showing her just how sexy she is.

“I never said I wanted to be spanked,” she says.

This is it. I’ve gone too far.

“I didn’t give you permission,” she goes on.

I should stop. I really, reallyshould.

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