Before he puts me down, he surveys the room, “Show me what you did.”
I giggle, “I didn’t do anything.”
A quick, sharp slap lands on my ass cheek, forcing a short scream as my ass tingles with the sting.
“Ow!” I complain.
He massages it better, “Tell the truth, kitten.”
“I didn’t do anything!” I plead my case and for a moment, I almost believe myself.
“Pretty little liar,” He slowly lowers me, making sureI keep in contact with him the entire way down, “Are you being a brat today, Olivia?”
I flutter my lashes, “Never.”
“I said I was sorry,” He grumbles, not believing a word I’m saying. “I was stuck in traffic!”
I narrow my eyes at him, “It was our anniversary.”
“So now I’m being punished?” His eyes flick back and forth between my eyes and lips. He apologized extensively last night, first with his anniversary gift, and part of the reason he was late was because he was picking it up. I’m now the owner of my own Maserati, a match to his but mine is blue, where his is black and then he worshipped me all damn night. My knees were still weak this morning. So, no I am not punishing him for being late, I wasn’t even annoyed about it last night but it wouldn’t be me, it wouldn’t beus, if I didn’t dosomethingbecause of it.
“You’re not being punished,” I tell him gently, cupping his face, the coarse hair of his beard scratching at my palm. He leans into the touch before he kisses me gently and steps away.
“Sebastian and Willow will be here soon,” He advises, walking toward the desk and my heart notches up in speed, a little panic setting in. What if this goes wrong and he gets hurt like the water bucket incident!?
That went bad and we ended up in the hospital because of it, and this has just as much risk.
Shit. But before I can say anything and back track, he’s already sitting down.
The chair collapses out from beneath him with a hugecrash and he disappears with it.
“Olivia!” He roars.
“Shit.” I look between the desk and the door wondering if I should make a run for it now. But I don’t know if he’s hurt.
Maybe I went too far. It is the water bucket incident all over again!
In my defense, I didn’t realize it would hit him in the head when it fell off the door, so along with drenching him in ice cold water the moment he walked through the door, the bucket whacked him, splitting his brow. So, he was wet and bleeding.
I hop from foot to foot, waiting with bated breath to see if he’s hurt as he grips the side of the desk and hauls himself up, the chair a pile behind him.
Not hurt. But mad. Like furious mad. Like I’m about to have my ass slapped until I can’t sit downmad.
Shit.
“Love you, bye!” I yell out, bolting for the door. I throw it open but he’s already behind me.
Nope.I sprint away, skidding on our floors as I use the wall to propel my body around the corner and toward the stairs, a laugh bubbling out of me as I hear him gaining pace.
I’m almost at our bedroom where I plan to lock myself in, but before I can make it there his arms circle around me and he hauls me back, the breath rushing from my lungs.
“You little brat,” He growls in my ear.
“I’m sorry!” I yell struggling in his grip but he just chuckles. It isn’t filled with humor but the promise of revenge.
It’s what we do. I fuck with him, and he gets his pay back in some sick way.
He walks us toward the bedroom, locking us inside.
