Maisie’s heart did a lurching thing, making her cough. All this stress was going to send her to an early grave.
“Now?” she asked.
Raphael studied her, his blue eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. “You appeared to be in quite a hurry earlier. I hope you’re not getting cold feet.”
“No.” Her purse seemed to have gotten heavy. She hitched the strap higher on her shoulder and used all her willpower not to check that the zipper was closed, the envelope hidden from view. She needed to jettison it ASAP. “Let me run and touch up my makeup—”
“You’re perfect,” Raphael said, firmly guiding her onto the elevator. “Stunning.”
“But…” She glanced mournfully at the closing doors.
“Normally I’d let you primp as long as you like, but we don’t have time. You’re beautiful. If Ethan changes his mind because your lipstick isn’t… pink enough, then I know two men who will gladly take his place.”
He leaned closer to her.
“In fact, if Ethan can be so easily discouraged, then you deserve someone better. Let’s see, shall we?” He captured her face in his hands. The air inside the elevator became hot as he slanted his mouth across hers, his tongue flicking over her bottom lip, then into her mouth as she sighed open for him.
Raphael was the most sadistic of her bosses, by far, but he had a tender, gentle side that melted her heart. Whenever she cried, he was the one who cradled her, who dried her tears.
Before meeting him, she never would have guessed that a man who loved making a woman scream in pain could also kiss so sweetly.
The elevator doors opened, and he pulled away.
“Ready to get married?” he asked, his deep voice even huskier.
Maisie’s lips were still tingling from his bruising kiss. She wanted more, and as soon as she was inside the waiting chauffeured sedan, she reached for him.
He caught her wrists and held them on her lap. His knuckles pressed into her thighs.
“No,” he said in a low growl. “We’ll take care of you properly tonight. All three of us, on your wedding night. The way it should be.”
Well, at least night was only a few hours away.
Her arousal didn’t subside as they wound through the packed streets. Raphael looked at his watch a few times.
Jayne, Maisie remembered suddenly. Careful to keep the purse’s contents hidden from view, she pulled out her phone and sent a fast text.
It was probably too late, too little notice.
To her surprise, Jayne responded immediately. On my way!!!
“Who are you texting?” Raphael asked.
“Jayne Torrabadella. We had lunch, and she wants to come to the wedding.”
“Yes, we know,” Raphael said darkly. “I didn’t realize the two of you were so close.”
“We’re not, but I like her a lot.” She paused. “Is there something I should know?”
“About Jayne?” He frowned and shook his head. “No. I didn’t mean to sound judgmental. It’s just that she practically attacked us after lunch, and it caught us off guard. At least she handled it better than Mrs. Donahue did.” He smiled. “Jayne’s happy for you. We’ve already informed her that it’s happening now.”
Oh. She decided she didn’t want to know how the Mrs. Donahue thing had ended.
“Raphael, you’re not going to stop wanting me after the wedding, are you?”
He looked at her as if she were crazy.
“Just checking,” she said. “I haven’t heard any concrete details about you and Trent moving into the condo…”
“What’s to move? We’ve each got multiple homes. Multiple favorite slippers, multiple pieces of our lives spread around. Only one you, though. The condo is home. I promise.”
“I’m not convinced,” Maisie said, giving him her most seductive look. “Actions speak louder than words.”
“That’s true.”
He slid his hand up the bottom of her dress, all the way to her wet pussy. She wished her panties would melt away.
He flicked his fingers against her silk-covered sex, hard enough to make her gasp.
To make her even wetter.
“I told you,” he growled, “no fooling around until tonight. But I’ll let my actions do the talking.”
He flicked his fingers again. This time, he landed the punishment right over her poor little clit. She gasped, got wetter, and felt her inner muscles tightening with need.
Both her hands squeezed around his thick forearm. Even through the fabric of his shirt and suit jacket, the power of his muscles was humbling.
“Do you need more?” he demanded.
Her gaze jerked to his handsome face. The dominant intensity in his eyes made her want to beg for more, but she knew better; the only stimulation would be pain.
Raphael was capable of dealing out far more punishment than she could ever hope to handle. He was a true sadist, and challenging him would be a mistake.
She bit her lip and shook her head. “No, sir,” she said. “Your point is well taken.”
“Good girl.” He dipped over and kissed her. His fingers were still brushing against her pussy.
He wanted to get her worked up, to make her slip, to get her to challenge him. She knew it was a trap, but she still couldn’t help lifting her hips, trying to intensify the contact between them.
“Bad girl.”
He unbuckled her seatbelt and pulled her toward him. Maisie caught a glimpse of the bearded chauffeur’s stoic face—a new guy—and then she was being pulled across her boss’s lap, and all she could see was the seat, then the side of the door. The car’s interior was immaculate, she realized. In fact, it smelled new.
Raphael lifted the bottom of her dress to run his large palms over her ass.
Maisie shivered all over, and her pussy clenched.
“Such a naughty fiancée,” he murmured. “You need this punishment, Maisie. You need it badly. You’ll be quiet while I deliver it.”
He slapped his hand hard against her ass, and she almost cried out. He hadn’t bothered warming her up first.
“Oh, you’re a bad, bad girl, Maisie. Trent and I could never desert Ethan in his time of need, with a new wife who needs constant discipline.”
Under her hip and stomach, his erection was uncomfortably stiff. He slapped her other cheek, then began alternating in a quick, sharp rhythm.
Sometimes he hit her hard, driving the breath from her lungs. Maisie kicked her feet and curled her fists, but she knew better than to try to pull away from him or to otherwise attempt to avoid or diminish the punishment.
“Don’t cry,” he warned. “Not unless you want raccoon eyes during your wedding.”
He gave her ass a few heavy, stinging smacks that felt like the finale, and then he let her sit up. Which she did, tenderly. His spanking hadn’t been too brutal this time.
Maisie was breathing heavily. Her eyes locked on the impressive tent in his pants. She wanted to suck him off so badly. She wanted to get off herself.
But neither was going to happen, and she wasn’t about to earn herself another round of discipline, so she fixed her dress and clicked back into her seatbelt.
Raphael took her hand and sandwiched it between his. He caressed her palm with his fingers while he stared out the window, his brow furrowed in thought.
Something was bothering him. She didn’t bother asking what—either it didn’t concern her, in which case he would never worry her needlessly, or it did concern her, in which case he would protect her.
She’d learned that much.
So she tried to enjoy the moment instead of obsessing over all the things that seemed poised to go wrong, like the telltale envelope pulsing inside her purse. It felt right, being with him like this. Her tension was easing under his protective caresses.
That was Raphael all over. Brutal. Tender.
She loved him with all her heart.