“Yes. I’m doing your makeup.”
“Excuse me?”
He just walked toward me, grabbed my hand and practically sat me in the dresser seat. “What did I say about—”
“Thank you, Tino, but what the hell?”
He went through the few brushes and scattered products I had, choosing some with meticulous care. “Language. I let it go earlier because you were only speaking the truth. I was being a dick and an asshole on purpose. But now I won’t be so tolerating if you don’t watch your mouth.”
“So what? You’ll spank me?”
“Swear again and see for yourself.”
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck FUCK! But I wouldn’t say it because I believed his threat. He wouldn’t shy away, and I’d end up with his strong slaps on my butt. I stared at his big, tattooed hands, thinking that might not be such a terrible thing.
He chuckled and then bent, his beard almost touching my cheek. “Go ahead or are you afraid you’ll enjoy it so much?”
I didn’t blush this time. I looked him straight in the eye. “Yes, Tino. I soaked my panties whenhedid it. I know I’ll enjoy it whenyouspank me, too.”
I thought that would make him uncomfortable, but he didn’t even blink. “Because I’ll remind you ofhim? Or because you wantmeto do it?”
“Both.” Who injected me with truth serum?
The acceleration in his breath and the way his eyes changed again with the flicker of lust I saw a few minutes ago lasted only a second, but I noticed.
“Except that your desire for me isn’t real,” he said.
“Mmhm. Not real,” I mumbled, my gaze zeroing in on his lips. “For argument sake, what if it was real? What would you do about it?”
His fingertips brushed my forehead, smoothing my hair off my face, a simple touch yet made of flames that zigzagged their way to my core. “I would…spank you harder until it stopped feeling good.”
“To punish me?” My whole body throbbed at the thought. Apparently, I was a sucker for it.
“To expel that silly feeling out of you for good.” He picked up a brush. “Close your eyes, Angelina.”
Seriously? “Are you really doing my makeup?”
“Si, si. Are you doubting my skills, young lady?”
Again with that enraging crap. “Are you trying to make me swear on purpose so you’ll have an excuse to spank me?”
“Who said I need an excuse?” He winked, and my ovaries exploded. “Close your eyes, Angelina. I’m going to start with them until you stop blushing.”
I giggled—only with him—and did as I was told, trusting him against all odds, praying he’d betray that trust and do something else entirely with me other than doing my makeup.
For the next twenty minutes, his strokes and breaths on my skin set me ablaze, and when he touched my lips, I could have simultaneously combusted. My breathing was out of control, and the sleeves of his suit jacket grazed my heaving boobs more than once. Thank God for the padded bra. The new panties, though, were no good. I needed a new pair.
When he stopped painting my face—that was how I imagined it. He wasn’t doing my makeup. He was painting, and my face was his canvas—his fingers massaged my scalp.
“You’re gonna do my hair, too?” I asked, no resistance left in me. I still had my eyes closed, and his fingers were doing wonders relaxing my muscles.
“Yes. It’ll look better up.”
“What if I like it down?”
“You’ll still wear it up.”
“Because you say so?”
