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I draw in a breath. "There's a difference between a little struggle and me saying no."
He leans back in his chair and looks meditative. "Did you have something else in mind when you talked about pain? Or did you really plan on having your cake and eating it too?"
The jerk! "Oh, fuckoff,Adriano!"
His face registers a look of mild surprise before he casually mentions, "And that earned you your second spanking."
"Is there like a count now?"
"Obviously."
“Hey, I don't think I know these rules."
"I think you do. I think you'retryingto get over my lap."
"What if I don't… like… over-the-lap stuff?" My voice sounds stuffy, like I'm trying to speak through slats of floorboards.
"I happen to know for a fact that that's another lie. Spanking number three."
I don't respond because it seems like every time I open my mouth he adds something to the tally. "Jesus."
"He won't help you now."
"Are you enjoying yourself yet?"
"Immensely. I'm going to enjoy myself a lot more when we begin."
I don't ask him when we begin what, because I know that it has something to do with that tally.
I give him a curious look now. "How do you know what I like and what I don’t?"
He looks away wryly and doesn’t respond to my question. “Go get ready, Quinn.”
* * *
CHAPTEREIGHT
“THE BEACH”
Quinn
We pullup to a huge house overlooking the ocean. I’m tired, but weirdly energized because even though this has been a really,reallylong day, and even though we’re in danger, Adriano has made one thing clear: we must make this look real, and the more real, the better our chances of survival.
I can do this. I cantotally fucking do this.
So even though I could use a nice, long bath and a good night’s sleep, preferably involving an earth-shattering orgasm before my head hits the pillow, I amon.
“Wow, honey,” I say, reaching a tentative hand to Adriano’s knee. “This looks amazing. No, no. I’m more of ababeperson.Babe, this is incredible.”
“Honey,” he muses. “Babe.”
I give him a winning smile and wave my fingers at him, intentionally flashing my gorgeous ring at him. “Nice fake,” I say under my breath, because man, have they improved these cubic zirconia diamonds lately.
He opens the door and smirks. “Thank you. Have you fooled, do I?”
And isn’t that tonight’s theme?
I hadn’t expected acamera crewoutside the door of the limo. I hadn’t expected the satin runway or flower petals, the flashing cameras, or the crowd. But what takes me the most by surprise is the warm, comforting pressure of his hand at the small of my back. The way he glides my fingers effortlessly to his elbow and escorts me as if he’s Prince Charming and I’m Cinderella, but these are no enchanted mice in this kingdom. The cloying scent of power and greed overwhelms me as women in designer dresses and men in expensive suits stare at the two of us with fake smiles, raising drinks in our supposed honor.
