Page 105 of Feuding with the Fashion Princess

Stalking toward me, the promise of punishment in his eyes gave me a delicious thrill. “You think I care?”

Popping my hip, I placed one hand on it, giving an air of an attitude as I taunted, “Then I guess you’ll just have to punish me.”

“Don’t test me, Princess,” he growled.

Instead of answering him, I pulled my hair over my shoulder to reach it with both hands. I’d recently cut a good chunk of it off, so now it only fell to the middle of my shoulder blades, but there was still plenty to work with. With practiced ease, I broke it into three sections and began to weave them together.

“What are you doing?” Preston’s jaw was set tight. I knew he’d missed this just as much as I had but was holding himself back out of concern for me.

“Braiding my hair,” I shot back casually.

That was all it took for him to activate, and his hand was around my throat before I could finish plaiting my hair. Tilting my jaw to look at him, I wasn’t afraid, instead feeling safer in his grasp than I had in what felt like forever.

This was right. This was us. We couldn’t let someone steal it away.

“Do you think it’s funny to tease me, Princess?” His face was right in front of mine.

“No, Sir.”

“That’s better.” He released his grip, forcing me backward until my body bumped against the large X-structure of the Saint Andrews Cross.

Fuck yes.

Affixing my arms and legs to the cross so that I faced him, he shed his tux jacket before unbuttoning his crisp white dress shirt. His lean, toned upper body had me licking my lips. I wanted to taste him so badly, but I knew I would have to wait. I was on his time. He made the rules. All I had to do was obey.

Wholly at his mercy, bound to the cross, he stared at me for what seemed like an eternity, and I began to squirm, pulling on my restraints with the intense need to be touched by his masterful hands. Chuckling at my discomfort, he propped open the bench seat, moving items around until he found what he required.

“Do you know what happens to bad girls, Princess?” Preston asked, his back still to me.

“They get punished, Sir.”

“That’s right.” Turning, I saw what he held in his hands—Wanda. I nearly moaned, thinking of how he would punish me with her. Pressing the power button, that familiar buzzing filled the air. “You will take what I give you tonight and be grateful for what I allow. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Let’s see if we can turn this bad girl into a good girl.”

He knew I would do just about anything to be his good girl. And just like that, all was right in our world again.

Don’t you worry, Preston let me come plenty, but he made sure I begged for it. Sweaty and sated, we laid naked on the bed in the playroom together, coming down from our intense play session.

Stroking his chest, with my body curled into the crook of his arm, I mused, “This room is nice, but where will the baby sleep?”

Trailing his fingers up and down my spine, Preston replied, “Luce, I told you, don’t let the pressure get to you. If that’s not something you want, it’s okay. If it is, we have plenty of time to convert this room or move if necessary.”

I knew he couldn’t see me twist my lips into a smile, but that was half the fun. “Well, not that much time . . .”

Without warning, my body fell face-first into the mattress as he sat up abruptly. “What?”

“Hmm? What’s that?” I mumbled into the covers, playing dumb.

“Lucy . . . That’s not funny.”

Daring to look up at him, I knew the moment he saw the truth on my face. “Looks like Grandfather will get that summer baby he was hoping for.”

“A baby.Ourbaby?”

“Is that okay?” I watched his expression closely, but it gave nothing away.