Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
"You did," he says casually, like we're just talking about the weather. "You have quite a tally going on. I was going to wait till tomorrow to settle that tally, but since you can’t sleep and I’m also wide awake…”
He lifts a hand and gestures to the three guards standing a good deal away. “You’re dismissed.”
My heart begins to beat a little faster. Uh oh. “You know, when I left you, you were totally asleep.”
“I sleep very lightly.”
Of course he does. “And when did you wake up?”
“As soon as I felt you leave the bed.” He gestures for me to join him. “Come here.”
I walk over to him, curious what that cabana’s going to be like, and wondering if his guards are still watching. “Uh, are we alone here?”
“I dismissed everyone for the night. It’s just me and you.”
The inside of the cabana is stunning. With a thatched roof and a floor of sand, you’d think it was simple, but no. It’s like its own little tiki bar for romantic, filthy-rich people, with a mini fridge and bar, plush beach furniture, and a sunroof. Soft chairs and lounge cushions, an array of sarongs and robes on little wooden hooks, and the floor-to-ceiling windows give us a full view of the ocean… Wow.
“A wedding night doesn’t feel like a wedding night unless there’s a celebration,” I mutter, eyeing the glass-paneled mini fridge that has chocolate-covered fruit and miniature bottles of wine and champagne.
“But you were a very bad girl.”
My skin feels strangely prickly, my pulse racing.
“Mmm. Who could blame me?”
I’m reaching to touch an iridescent bowl of shells when suddenly, I’m stumbling. I think he actually tripped me! I squeal and try to right myself, but he’s planned this perfectly. Sitting on a stool up at the bar, he lays me straight across his lap and props one of his feet on the rung of the stool. The flimsy pants I’m wearing are quickly down to my ankles and the oversized tee pushed casually to the side.
I close my eyes and bite my lip. I need this. I want this.
“You should’ve stayed in bed and slept like I told you,” Adriano lectures as his big, huge, mobster hand palms my ass. I squeal, and he hasn’t even spanked me yet.
Ohhh, this is gonna be good.
“I tried. I really did, but like I said, I couldn’t sleep. I fucking hate counting sheep.”
“So you just casually decided the right thing to do was to leave your husband in bed and come out to the beach with an entourage of guards?”
I tap my chin, trying to look thoughtful, but it’s useless. My hair is hanging in my face and I’m getting lightheaded from being in this position, on the verge of seeing what kind of a spanking my new husband can deliver.
“Um. Obviously. Yes?”
“I seem to have failed at instilling any fear in you,” he mutters.
I think oh Jesus, right before he slams his palm across my ass. It hurts like fuck, so I scissor my legs when I conveniently remember what he said about struggling… but I like a bit of a struggle myself.
“Hey!” I shout. I reach out to stop him, but he deftly grabs my wrist and pins it to the small of my back. I wriggle and squirm. I push hard and actually try to get away. When he holds me forcefully against him, I’m pinned helplessly in place. My heart beats wildly, somewhere between fear and elation.
“Hey. Hey!” I seem to have lost my entire vocabulary as he lifts one leg and pins me in place over his lap with ease. Again, his palm smacks against my ass, and this time when I try to squirm, I can’t move a millimeter. After six heavy-handed spanks he’s hard, the length of his erection pressing against my belly, and I know he’s enjoying this as much as I am.
That might prove handy.
“You know you deserve this, you little brat. I’m going to spank you until you beg for mercy, Quinn… until your ass is on fire… until you learn to give me your submission.”
“Bruh, my ass is already on fire!”
Stinging swats land, one after another.
“You’re a naughty girl who needs this, and don’t ever call me ‘bruh’ again. I want to hear you beg me. Tell me. Say, ‘spank me harder, Daddy.’”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Oh, Jesus, with the daddy thing. I shake my head.
“You’re fucking lucky I didn’t bring my belt down here, or I’d whip your ass.”
I shiver, imagining how hot he’d look holding a belt. I fucking love the feel of leather.
“Meh, I heard those don’t hurt that much.” I am totally baiting him.
“Does this?” he asks, and it isn’t until then I realize he’s been holding back.
“Yes. Yessssss. Your hand is doing a good job!” I yelp when his palm of steel slaps me where my ass meets my thighs. “Yeoch!”