Page 152 of Pink Ink

“Believe it or not, you can now get your information straight from the source.”

She rolls her eyes. “I know that, but I’m pissed off at him.”

“Then stay angry. You don’t have to push him away at the same time. Arm’s length means that he’s still reachable.” I shrug. “And you could milk the situation for all it’s worth.”

She hits my arm playfully. “I don’t want his money.”

“I can afford to take us to Paris every month out of the year, but it would be much more satisfying to know it’s on Shepherd’s dime.” I never received a cent for any of the shit I did for him. I am, however, pissed off at how little he left as Reyna’s “inheritance.” Admittedly, the bulk of the funds were used toward her mom’s healthcare, but he could have covertly topped it up without putting a dent in his finances. “If Roland were a decent person, I might consider jeopardizing my precious brain cells to be in his company.”

She purses her lips. “Would you want to get to know James if he were your dad?”

Fuck no.

I walked right into that one.

Shepherd recruited me when I was fourteen. The man clearly doesn’t have much in the way of morals, and that’s a lot coming from me.

A diplomatic response is the best course of action. “He’s shown that he’s committed to looking after you, even if you spend the rest of your life living as if he were dead. Now, tell me, Miss Sinaga, would you regret walking the other way if he died next week?”

“I’ll text him tomorrow,” she whispers reluctantly, innocently pressing her chest against me in such a mind-altering, cock-saluting way that I’m surprised she hasn’t said that it feels like there’s a loaded gun pointing at her.

Her fate is sealed when she levels me with the venomous glare that got me hooked on her from the very start. “Why did you have to make sense without being an asshole?”

Reyna yelps when I spin her around to bend her over the table, with my fingers threaded in her hair.

“What are you doing?” she gasps, supporting her weight with her hands.

“Being an asshole.”

I yank the skirt up her waist and rip her stockings down her legs while her ass is up in the air.

“Maddox,” she squeals, wiggling her hips.

Everything she does makes my cock fuckingache. “Apologize,” I grunt.

“For what?” Her question comes out in that husky voice of hers that I’ve been obsessed with since day one.

I free my belt from my pants in a single motion and bind her wrists together. Her heady scent permeates the room as I pull the leather tight to keep her fingers from wandering places they shouldn’t. “Calling me an asshole.”

“No.”

The one word earns her a sharpwhack. She cries out at the impact, and a pink handprint blooms on her soft, tanned skin. The possessive beast inside of me preens with satisfaction when she squeezes her legs together, and a dark spot starts to form in the center of her panties.

She likes this.

My fingers trail over the scars along her hips and thighs as I massage the welt forming on her ass. It amazes me that she doesn’t tense or cower away over having them touched. I want to ask if she’s ever felt embarrassed by them, or if she’s just learned to live with it.

“Beautiful,” I mutter, because I’d fall for her in whatever shape or form she comes in.

I rub the red mark caused by my hand, appreciating the contrast of colors and the shape left beside her tattoo. “Say sorry, Miss Sinaga. Where are your manners?”

Looking up at me over her shoulder, Reyna raises her head in defiance, pupils blown out. “Make me.”

Fuck, I bloody love her.

“I’d hate to have to punish you for your behavior.”

My hand goes down on her pert ass, and she whimpers. One word that describes me issadistic, and it perfectly describes how I spank her other cheek twice just to make the cherry-pink marks blooming on her pretty little backside even.