Unknown:It’s your fucking bodyguard, Michail. Don’t even know who the fuck I am?
Well that definitely spikes mytemper.
Bryn:I don’t think you quite got the memo, Michail, but you’re not allowed to talk to me that way.
Unknown:Let’s talk about what we are and are not allowed to do.
“Bryn, what the hell? Everything okay?”
I blow out a breath and show him my phone. “Look at what this arsehole’s saying to me.”
Mac reads the messages, then scowls, glaring at the screen.
“Who the fuck does he think he is? We’ve got bodyguards working for us, too, and they’re not allowed to talk to any of us this way. He works foryou,not the other way around.”
“Exactly.”
“Let me reply,” he says, still scowling.
I nod.
Bryn: Hey. This is her date. She’s safe, and if you threaten her like that again, Aitkens will hear about it.
“That should shut him up,” he growls, handing me my phone back. “Put that away, now.”
I should feel odd about him telling me what to do, but for a reason I can’t quite fathom, I don’t. I grew up repressed and belittled, never having a say in anything I did or where I went. And I hated it, every minute of it.
Why does it feel so different with Mac?
I want to egg him on a little, tease the dominant out in him, like there’s a little red devil on my shoulder, whispering in my ear.
Poke, poke, poke.
I still remember what he said earlier.
If you ever wear something like that to buy groceries again, I’ll take you across my knee to teach you better.
“And if I don’t?” I say, tipping my head to the side and giving him a taunting look. “Would you…” I drop my voice and lean in closer, my breasts heaving with excitement. “Spank me?”
Without missing a beat, he nods soberly. “Yes.”
I bite my lip as heat rolls through me. I squeeze my legs together, suddenly so turned on I could fuck him right here on the seat between us.
He leans over, lacing his fingers behind my neck, a move that I've come to crave. No one’s ever touched me like that before, so it’s… his. I love the possessive feel of his fingers on my skin. When he gently flexes, it’s like he’s reminding me that he could hurt me, but he won't. I hardly know the man, but what he says without opening his mouth at all speaks volumes.
“Are you going to behave yourself, Bryn?” He bends his mouth to my ear and licks the very edge before nipping the lobe. My pulse spikes, and I draw in a sharp, ragged breath. “Or do I have to make you?”
Oh God.Oh God oh God oh God.Fuckity fuck.
“Oh, I can be a very good girl,” I tell him, nodding soberly. I give a little shrug. “I can also be quite naughty.”
He runs his fingertips from my neck to my back, a gentle brush that makes me shiver and draw closer to him. “Tell me, Bryn,” he purrs in my ear, his voice deep and husky, an aural aphrodisiac. “If I were to touch you between your legs right now, part your thighs and run my fingers along your panties, would I find them wet?”
Fucking soaked.
I swallow and nod, unable to speak, as he rests one hand on my thigh, the other still traveling up and down my spine as he taunts me.
“And what if I were to take you over my lap?” he continues, his hand moving up a fraction of an inch on my thigh. “If I were to punish you, would that leave you hot and bothered and wet between your legs?”
