“You sure?” I ask, sounding much more confident than I feel. “Because I’m hearing a lot of talking and not much else.”
“If you want me to use you whenever,howeverI want, then you need a safe word. Something you can say when you actually aren’t in the mood, and you’re not just being a little brat for attention.”
I inhale sharply through my nose.Why is it thrilling and also provoking when he calls me that?
“How about dickhead,” I suggest, trying to sound innocent.
His eyes narrow, hands flexing like he’s itching to get them back on me. “It’s meant to be a word youwouldn’ttypically say.”
“Fine,” I mutter, pretending to be put out. “Kiwi, then. I’m allergic so I’d never say that during sex.”
He stiffens. “You’re allergic to kiwi?
“Yeah, so what?”
“You didn’t tell me.” His voice is hard, an edge to it I didn’t expect. “These are things I need to know, Rayna.”
“Why?” I ask, throwing my hands up. “It’s not severe. I don’t even have an EpiPen for it anymore. Why do you look so upset?”
“I’m going to turn your ass red, and it’s not going to be about your stunt today,” he snaps, almost growling. “And then I’m going to get you a fucking EpiPen and make sure there is no goddamn kiwi in this house.”
My mouth falls open, surprised that he’s so concerned with my mild fruit allergy. I’m about to tell him that it’s entirely unnecessary for me to have an EpiPen when kiwi is such an easy allergen to avoid, but I can’t get the words out before he’s lifting me up. I’m thrown over his shoulder with a whoosh, and a surprised squeak falls from my lips.
“You’re overreacting—ouch!”
My behind stings from the heated slap he’s just landed there.
“Not another word out of you,” he commands. “Not until you’re apologizing for keeping vital health information to yourself and my hand fucking burns from spanking your bratty little ass.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Rayna
My feet hit the smooth concrete floor of the Moretti garage, my head swimming as Apollo sets me down. He doesn’t let me go, though, no, he keeps me as close as he can.
“Look at me,” he instructs severely. His hand slides up my neck and ensnares itself tightly in the back of my hair. With a sharp tug, my head snaps back, forcing our eyes to meet.
If his grip wasn’t so sturdy, I might tip over. My thighs feel weak and trembly, like in the small amount of time that he was carrying me, they turned into gummy worms.
“There she is,” he says, the words meeting my ear in a gruff welcome. “Since your little tantrum purchase is otherwise occupied, you get to pick what car I punish your ass on. Do be quick about it, I’m not feeling very patient.”
I eye the closest sports car and motion to it, my throat bobbing hard. “That black one.”
“Good choice.” He grins, sending a nervous bit of anticipation pooling in my stomach. “That one is mine, just like you are. How fitting.”
My thighs squeeze together as blood rushes to my clit, arousal making me clench. I squirm under his heated gaze, and take in a shaky breath as he begins to pull me toward the car.
He pushes me against the hood, leaning down to hover his lips above mine. His hand shifts from the back of my neck to the front of my throat, squeezing ever so lightly.
“Tell me what I’m going to do to you, Rayna. Show me that you understand.”
“You’re going to spank me,” I reply, almost whispering. Breathlessness takes me by surprise as my heart pounds rapidly.
I need him to touch me. I’m too impatient for this tension to last much longer. I want him to feel just as needy for me, to lose his composure and fuck me rough and hard over the side of the car.
“Smart girl,” he praises, lips widening in approval. “Pull down your pants, panties too, and bend over the hood. Hands on the windshield.”
He abruptly lets go of my neck, prompting me to obey his instructions. Buzzing with desire, my hands move determinedly, making quick work of my bottoms.