CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
~ Camilla
The sound of his pants hitting the floor was obscene, and despite myself, my eyes flicked down. Hell. His c**k stood thick and heavy, jutting toward me like he owned the very air between us. My mouth watered, my pulse hammering in my throat.
“Turn around,” he ordered, voice rough.
I glared up at him. “You don’t tell me what to do.”
The words had barely left my lips before his hands were on me again, hauling me up, flipping me over with a single, effortless motion. My stomach hit the mattress, my ass now high in the air, exposed. The sharp slap of his palm against my cheek sent a shockwave of pleasure-pain through me, and I gasped, my fingers twisting in the sheets.
“Such a f*****g brat,” he murmured. His fingers traced the stinging heat of my skin
