He glares at me, holding my hand tighter, then pulling me into him, his thick arm reaching around my back.
“That’s what you think?” A deep chuckle vibrates from his chest.
“Let go of me.” I smack at his shoulder with my other hand, but it’s like pounding on concrete.
“Stop.” He takes my blows, shaking his head. “I bought this plane two days ago. It’s brand new. You know why I bought it?”
“Because you broke your last one with all the shagging?”
He reaches out, his other hand grabbing the one I have pounding his shoulder, holding me still as I struggle and step on his size sixteen loafers. “Stop that. I bought this plane after I met you. Because someday, I knew I’d have you here. With me. And for the first time, I want to give someone everything. That someone is you, Doralee, if you will ever just stop overreacting and listen before you transform into a toddler.”
There’s sincerity in his voice, but I glare nonetheless. “How do I know what you’re saying is true?”
“You promise to stop hitting me?”
“For the moment.” I answer and he shakes his head, then lets me go and presses a button on the wall.
The pilot’s voice comes through. “Yes, sir?”
“Is this my plane?”
“Uhhh…yes, sir.”
“When did I buy this plane?”
“I helped you pick it out and do the paperwork, day before yesterday, sir. Is there a problem?”
He looks at me and I roll my eyes, but nod.
“Nope, no problem. That’s all.” He releases the speaker button and comes back toward me. “You can be a brat. You know what brats get?”
My stomach knots, and the pulsing between my legs is almost unbearable. “Juice boxes and candy corn?” I snap back, trying to hold back my smile. I’ve never been this cheeky with someone before, but with Damon for the first time in my life, I feel like I can be myself.
“Maybe, after they get their ass spanked. Keep that up and I’ll flip you up and over my knee before you can take a breath.”
“Really? You think you can…” But I don’t get to finish the thought.
Chapter Seven
Damon
MY LIPS CUT HER OFF. Inside, I’m secretly loving the sassy girl that has taken the place of the frightened mouse I encountered in the ballroom just a few short days ago.
I want her to be herself around me. I want the good, the bad and the ugly. So to speak. It would be impossible for her to ever be ugly.
She’s too perfect.
And once I’ve touched perfection, I know there is no living without it again. I know I’m a lunatic for lying to her. I’m flying us to Paris, sure, but not to the agency rooms. We’ll go to my apartment. We’ll spend New Year there, then see where things go. My plan is to keep her there until I can explain everything. And one way or another, I’ll make her understand.
At least that’s what I’m telling myself.
Her red silk dress falls off her shoulders, exposing her too prominent collarbones, but we will work on getting her healthy again. I’m so fucking hard I can barely breathe.
I reach down and grip her ass, easily mounting her onto the front of me before laying her down on the gold silk of the bedding, her slick black hair splaying out to frame her creamy skin like a masterpiece hanging in the best museum in the world.
I want to be inside her, more than I’ve ever wanted anything, but even more than that I want to taste every inch of her. To feel the silk of her cunt against my mouth as my tongue dips into her honey, feeling the tightness there, knowing no matter what happens, no one will ever have her but me.
“Your dresses are too short. From now on, you won’t wear things like that out, unless you are with me.” I look down to see the pink silk panties, dark between her legs, as she throws her hands above her head and kicks off the six-inch black pumps from her feet, her knees falling open as she does.
“So, you’re going to dress me, too?”
“Yes.” I answer and the sureness of it hits me. “I’m going to dress you, feed you, bathe you, teach you, laugh with you, fuck you…” Her eyes light up at that last one, but I continue. “But right now, I’m going to eat you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Your pussy is already wet for me, isn’t it?”
She nods as I step forward and she brings a foot out and presses it against the erection straining against the fabric of my pants. “You’re hard. I’m wet. We’re a matched set.”
I can see I’m going to have my hands full with her, but I’ll take whatever she has to dish out as long as she’s by my side.