Page 14 of Daddy's Claim
Maybe I’d gone about this all wrong. A man like Michael was used to getting his way, and as humbling as it was to admit, we were equally matched in bed. But what if I never let him get meintobed? I could give him a taste of his own medicine, and I’d never even have to let him touch me.
Pleased with my new plan, I dug out a short, red dress, with a deep V cut down the front and back. The sound of the shower cutting off spurred me into action and I quickly wiggled intothe dress, forgoing any underwear. It wasn’t the kind of outfit you could wear a bra with anyway and teasing Michael with my nakedness over dinner would definitely help to move my plans along.
“What are you doing?”
Just barely managing to not jump out of my skin, I turned and sent him a coy smile. “I thought we could go out to dinner and celebrate our nuptials.”
The amused tilt of his mouth was my first warning my brilliant plan was about to fail. “First of all, princess, you’re going anywhere in that dress.”
“Why? Don’t you like it?”
“I love it. But I have no intention of letting anyone else enjoy seeing you in it.”
Dammit. Jealous, possessive men had always been one of my biggest turn ons. There was nothing I loved more than flaunting my body in public and getting them riled up. With the right kind of man, the sex afterwards was always so… primal.
And I had a feeling Michael DeCosta was exactly the right kind of man.
Ignoring the flare of desire his words inspired, I placed a hand on my hip and cocked an eyebrow at him. “You said first of all. What’s second of all?”
“Second of all, I thought I made it clear we wouldn’t be leaving this room until breakfast.”
Shit. My plan was falling apart right in front of me. “But I’m hungry.” The smirk I sent him wasn’t the least bit contrived. “We worked up an appetite.”
“I’ll go see about having something brought up.”
“But I want to go out.” I couldn’t seem to help the whine that crept into my voice, even though I knew it would have no effect on him.
“And I said no,” he replied calmly, pulling on a pair of boxers. Pulling his belt from the loops of his discarded pants, he folded it over and held it between both hands. “Do you need me to explain what ‘no’ means, princess?”
Fear and desire coiled in my belly at the implicit threat. “No. I hear you.”
“Good choice. Tell you what.” Now it was his turn to smirk, and it was all I could do to keep from jumping him again. “If you can make it through dinner without pouting, I’ll show you what a good girl spanking is like.”
“You’re going to spank me for behaving? That hardly seems fair.” What the hell was a “good girl spanking” and why was he treating it like some kind of reward?
“You’ll enjoy it. But that offer disappears with the first bratty moment.”
Still aggravated about not getting my way, I crossed my arms and let the pout I’d been trying to hold back take over. “Whatever.”
“And there goes your good girl spanking. Keep it up and we’ll take orgasms off the table for the rest of the night, as well.” Fully dressed once more, he rounded the bed and cupped my face with his large hands. “I want you to be happy here, princess. But I won’t put up with rude, bratty behavior. Understood?”
“Yeah.” I understood him perfectly fine. I just didn’t like it.
“Good girl. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” A wicked smile crossed his face. “Keep the dress on.”
“Goddammit,” I muttered under my breath when the bedroom door closed behind him. My plans were ruined. What the hell was I going to do now? If he got me into bed again, I’d be putty in his hands, and that absolutely would not do.
A buzzing sound drew my attention to my purse. Pulling out my phone, I flopped backward on the bed and scrolled through my texts. There were several increasingly urgent ones fromRissa, my best friend in the whole wide world, then one that simply read:You got married and didn’t tell me? You bitch!
Wasn’t my idea. I’ll tell you all about it later.
It only took about ten seconds for Rissa to respond.
Be ready in ten. You can tell me over drinks.
The tension in my stomach eased. This was exactly why Rissa was my best friend. She could be a bit of a bitch at times, but she was there when it mattered.
Of course, now I had to figure out how to sneak out of the house without alerting Michael or my newly-minted “family”.