Marked Red On My Wedding Night: A Rough Age Gap Bridal Spanking Romance

I fought the foreclosure with every sharp word I had, but Oliver Joyce walked in with his measured commands and that buried shame behind his eyes, and suddenly the estate wasn't the only thing at stake. He's twice my age, the kind of man who expects surrender without asking, and my body is already leaning into the pull I swore I would not answer on our wedding night.

The study door locks behind us and the polished desk is right there, too close, too ready. I can almost hear the crack of skin on skin, feel the red outline that will mark me through my dress. He will not ask twice.

My legs part before I can stop them, and the fear of being left behind wars with how much I crave his mark.