Page 122 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy

He stops behind my chair. “You think I give a single fuck about ‘smart’ right now, Lucy? About political maneuvering? About his pathetic threats?” He leans down, his lips brushing myear, sending shivers down my spine despite the situation. Or maybe because of it.

“The only thing I care about right now,” he whispers, his breath warm against my skin, “is making sure you understand that you are mine. And nothing, not my father, not your company’s problems, nothing, is going to keep me away from you.”

He spins my chair around to face him. Before I can react, he pulls me up, out of the chair, his hands firm on my arms. I stumble slightly, trying to regain my balance, maybe trying to create space, defy him just a little.

“Don’t push me away, Lucy,” he warns, his voice a low growl. “Not today.”

“Or what?” I challenge, tilting my chin up, fueled by a confusing mix of guilt, defiance, and burgeoning arousal.

A dark glint enters his eyes. “Or I’ll have to remind you who’s in charge.”

“Oh yeah?” I taunt. “Remind me then, big guy.”

Bad idea. Very bad idea.

In one swift, shocking movement, he pulls me down onto the desk with him, spins me around, and bends me over his knee like a recalcitrant child.

My skirt rides up my thighs and my face flames with mortification.

“Christopher! What are you doing?” I gasp, struggling instinctively.

Smack!

“But it’s during work hours!” I exclaim.

“Don’t worry, my security detail won’t let anybody inside.”

“But they’ll hear!” I say, the thought mortifying.

“Then stay quiet,” he commands.

His hand connects firmly with my backside, rightthrough the fabric of my dress. Not painful, exactly, but shocking. Stinging. Utterly unexpected.

“Stop fighting me,” he commands, his voice rough against my ear.

Smack!Another sting, harder this time.

“Let me go!” I try to push up, mortified beyond belief.

He’s spanking me? In my office? Is this actually happening?

“This is your punishment,” he murmurs, his hand resting possessively on my stinging bottom. “Trying to push me away after everything? Thinking you know what’s best for me? Then defying me?”

Smack!

The rhythm is firm, steady, undeniably punishing, yet… oh god…

Why is part of me starting to… like this?

Humiliation wars with the strange, coiling heat low in my belly.

He holds me there for several more stinging smacks, ignoring my half-hearted struggles, until I finally go still, breathless and stunned into submission.

My bottom throbs.

My face feels like it’s on fire.

“Better?” he asks softly, his hand now rubbing soothing circles where it just delivered punishment.