I found myself leaning forward slightly, drawn into his words. There was something compelling about the way he spoke—not arrogant about his wealth, but matter-of-fact. Like having billions was simply a circumstance he found himself in, one he was trying to figure out how to use responsibly.
We talked for another twenty minutes, the conversation flowing more easily than I’d expected. He asked about my family (middle child, often overlooked), my hobbies (reading, though I was too embarrassed to admit most of it was romance novels), what I did for fun (not much, honestly). He told me about his companies—tech infrastructure, mostly, the kind of behind-the-scenes work that made the internet function but that most people never thought about.
And somehow, impossibly, I found myself starting to fall for him.
Not because of his money, though god knew that was part of it. Not even because of how attractive he was, though every time I looked at him my stomach did a little flip. It was the way he listened. Really listened, like what I was saying mattered. Like I mattered.
When was the last time someone had made me feel that way?
There was a lull in the conversation. I took a sip of my now-lukewarm latte, suddenly aware of how long we’d been sitting here. Mike looked at me across the table, his dark eyes holding mine, and smiled.
It wasn’t a polite smile. It was something else—knowing, heated, possessive.
My pussy clenched so hard I gasped.
The seal prevented any real sensation, but my body tried anyway, muscles contracting around nothing, the ache intensifying to something almost painful. I bit my lip hard, trying to keep my face neutral, trying not to let him see what that smile had done to me.
But the look in his eyes told me he knew. He knew exactly what had just happened between my legs.
“I’d like to see you again. Tonight.”
It wasn’t a question. There was no question mark at the end of that sentence, no upward inflection asking for my permission. Just a statement of intent.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“Don’t say yes just yet.”
He leaned forward, close enough that I could smell his cologne—something expensive and masculine that made my head spin. His voice dropped to a murmur, meant for my ears only.
“I want to make sure you understand that if we have dinner tonight, your panties are coming down.”
I couldn’t suppress the whimper that escaped my throat. My heart started racing so fast I thought I might pass out. The words echoed in my head—your panties are coming down—and I knew exactly what he meant. He was going to spank me. He was going to punish me, bare-bottomed, probably for the cheating, probably for everything.
And then… I had to suppress a sob as I considered it.
Then, god help me, I nodded again.
I wasn’t completely sure why. My body seemed to be making decisions my brain couldn’t process. Mike’s eyes held mine, dark and unrelenting, as I struggled to find my voice. The noise of the café—the hiss of the espresso machine, the murmur of other conversations, the clink of cups on saucers—all seemed to fade into white noise.
“Use your words, sweetheart,” he said, and his eyes were twinkling now, like he was enjoying watching me squirm.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry despite the latte I’d been nursing. “Yes,” I managed to whisper.
His eyes narrowed. Not in anger, but in something else. Expectation. Correction.
“Yes,sir,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.
My lips parted. My breathing had become ragged, coming in short little gasps that I couldn’t quite control. I looked wildly around the café, suddenly hyperaware that we were in public, that anyone could hear this, that the couple at the next table might be listening to me agree to let this man spank me and take my virginity.
But when I looked back at Mike, he was still looking at me steadily. Calmly. Waiting.
“Yes, sir,” I said, and the words came out so softly I wasn’t sure he’d heard them.
But he had. I could tell by the way something shifted in his expression—satisfaction, possession, maybe even a hint of tenderness beneath the dominance.
“Good girl,” he murmured, and those two words sent a jolt of heat through my body so intense I had to grip the edge of the table to steady myself.
He leaned back in his chair, the moment of intensity passing as quickly as it had come. When he spoke again, his voice was back to its normal conversational tone, like we’d just been discussing the weather instead of my impending punishment.
