Page 53 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife

17

Summer

The cool air hits my exposed arse.

What does he see? My backside covered in slinky red panties. The underwear that he bought for me. I gulp. Is this why he laid out that silk and lace concoction of lingerie for me? And I hadn’t been able to resist it, huh? Had he been planning this scene all along? I push up, try to turn, and he clicks his tongue. The blood pounds at my temples. How dare he treat me so? I use my elbows for leverage and twist my torso, or at least try to; he leans the weight of his arm around my waist, effectively pinning me down. "Hey what are you—?" He kicks my legs apart and I stutter.

He eases his fingers under the waistband of my panties. I gulp.

The heat of his body sears the back of my thighs. "So you were saying…?"

Was I? What had I been saying? What—

"What happened to all that sass, huh?"

Why is he still talking? Why can’t he deliver whatever humiliation he had in mind, huh?

"Should I spank you again?"

Yes.

Yes.

I shake my head.

"You liked it that much, little Bird?"

I actually am growing attached to that name, not that I’ll ever tell you that. If I did, I bet you’d insist on flinging it in my face all the time, and hey, didn’t I shake my head earlier?

"That was a ’no,’ Smirky Pants—"

He spanks my butt and I squeal.

Honestly, the slap wasn't all that hurtful. It’s my ego that’s taking a real kick to the rear right now… Rear… Haha, so not the time for word play.

He slaps my arse, harder this time; bastard probably read my mind. And his hand connects with my backside again. My entire body moves forward this time with the force of the hit. A moan bleeds from my lips. The hell? I didn't enjoy that. I didn’t.

He brings his palm in contact with my arse again, and pain warms my blood. Moisture pools between my thighs.

"So, you were saying that you are not attracted to me?"

Crack.I yelp.

"You said I couldn’t seduce you?"

"Hey that’s not what I—"

Crack.My entire body jerks. My back tingles. My toes curl. I huff, squeeze my fingers together. I will not scream again. Will not.

"You said there’s nothing between us—"

"You’re twisting my words, jerkass."

He flips me around, "It’s your knickers which are all twisted out of shape, Sweetheart."

He cups the space between my legs, and I stare up at him, my breath coming in pants. My back throbs, my scalp seems to be on fire.

He squeezes my fabric-covered pussy, and the dampness between my legs intensifies. Heat sears my cheeks.