This time, my smile is pure sweetness. “But would a real kingpin give even one chance to someone—?”
Just like he did on the night of my party, Micah throws me over his shoulder as though I weigh nothing more than an overnight bag. He whisks me into his bedroom, casting me onto the bed with such force that I can’t catch my breath.
My head is deliriously aware of his strength and the devilish glint in his eye. I turn over and feign an escape attempt, squealing when he seizes me around the ankles and drags me firmly back towards him.
“Such a naughty girl,” he growls, shoving my dress so far up my body it could more properly be called a belt. “You should probably think of a safe word right now.”
“A safe…” I gulp. “Red diamond.”
“That’s two, but I do like your style. Pick the most expensive gem known to man.”
“It is?” This time the startled glance I cast over my shoulder is genuine. “I didn’t know that.”
“Would it have changed how you address me in my own home?”
“It might have given me a new appreciation of the ring on my finger.”
“I don’t want appreciation, little one. I want respect.”
He tugs my underwear down until they’re binding my knees, then lays his enormous right palm over my butt cheek.
“Red diamond,” I mouth without getting my vocal cords involved. A practice run. Just in case. It’s hitting home a tad late that my fiancé is two to three times my size and his hands are no exception. If I slapped him, he mightn’t even feel it.
The reverse is unlikely to be true.
A second later I’m proven right. The sting shocks me, makes my squeal reappear when I never intended to make any such sound, then turns to a sensation of warmth. He balances it out on the other cheek and the new slap hurts worse than the first now that I know what to expect.
“Are you ready to apologise?”
It takes me a moment to inhale enough air to reply, “Not just yet. Maybe I need a second or two longer to really think through my options.”
He gives me another matching pair of slaps, then strokes my arse cheeks until I’m sure this rates more as a reward than a punishment. When I moan, he dispenses another set, then another. By the time he reaches an even half dozen each, I’m revising my opinion yet again.
“Micah…”
“Yes?”
“On consideration…”
“Yes?”
“Perhaps I did leap to judgement.”
He tilts his head to one side, pursing his lips. Then another four smacks rain down on my unsuspecting cheeks, sending a flush of such heat rampaging up my body that I’m surprised the bed doesn’t explode into flames.
“I was trying to—”
“If good girls don’t know how to issue apologies, then they should refrain from making insults.”
“You’re making some excellent points, I think…”
“You think?”
I struggle to turn over, holding my hands up in supplication when I finally manage the feat. “It’s hard to be sure when you’re scrambling every one of my brain cells.”
He playfully arches an eyebrow. “All fourteen of them?”
“Oh, ho, mister. Now who’s earning a spanking?”
