Her Millionaire Master by Maria Monroe Page B

was.”
    “Perhaps in three more weeks you’ll be even sorrier.”
    “It’s not just that. The money. Or the spanking.” She blushed when she said spanking , and his cock stiffened. “It was important to you. Meaningful. And that can’t be replaced.”
    “No,” he said simply. “It can’t.” He hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t expected her to understand that this was really about more than the scotch itself.
    “Tell me about your grandfather,” she said. “The one who bottled the scotch.”
    Ah. No. She was dangerously close to prying into his feelings. He didn’t allow that. Ever. So he was surprised when he found himself answering, almost against his will.
    “His name was Lachlann Calhoun. He was born and raised in Scotland. His son, my father, came to the United States as soon as he was old enough. He’d had enough of Scotland and didn’t want to follow in his father’s footsteps. A master taster and blender, that’s what my grandfather had become. But my father had no interest. In New York, he met my mother, but he was an asshole. Drinking. Cheating. Leaving her alone for weeks at a time. She got pregnant, and still he treated her like that. When he died, stabbed ten times in a back alley in the dirtiest part of the city, my mother was relieved. She told me that later, when I was older.
    “At the time, though, she was struggling. No money. No husband. A baby coming soon. My grandfather had never met her until my father’s funeral, and he invited her to come stay with him in Scotland. She had no other choice, so she went. And I was born there.
    “My grandfather could be mean too, but a different mean. A loving mean. He was strict, making sure I attended school and got the best grades I could. He found a job for my mother, and he took care of her. For that, I will always be grateful. He taught me to be strong. To have goals. To work for them no matter what. I attribute all my success in life to him, to the example he set.
    “The bottle… he bought it for me when I made my first million dollars. Said we would celebrate every year on his birthday with a drink of the very best scotch we could find. He died, though,” continued Kane, taking another drink of the wine. “Before we could share a drink. He’d planned to visit me to celebrate, but he had a sudden heart attack. Gone. In minutes.”
    “I’m so sorry.”
    Kane waved his hand dismissively.
    “He was like a father to you,” Bella persisted.
    “He was.” Kane didn’t want to admit it to her, didn’t even want to be having this conversation. Still, though, it felt good to talk about it. “I owe him everything. I’m who I’ve become because of my grandfather.”
    They were silent for a few moments. He watched Bella sip her wine, her lips on the glass so perfect. Luscious. What would they feel like on his lips? Trailing kisses down his body. Taking his cock inside them and sucking him, hard, into her mouth. He almost groaned out loud at the thought.
    Bella looked up at him then, as though she could read his mind. “Kane?” she said. “Can I ask you a question?”
    “You just did.” He gave her a half-grin.
    She rolled her eyes and smiled. “Another one then.”
    “Yes, Bella. You may ask me a question.”
    “Do you like it?”
    “Do I like what?”
    “Spanking me? Punishing me? Does it turn you on?”
    “It turns you on, doesn’t it?” he asked, turning the conversation around so the focus was on her.
    She blushed, her pretty cheeks turning a glorious shade of pink, and she cast her eyes down. “Yes,” she whispered.
    “Does that surprise you?” he asked.
    “Yes,” she repeated. “Well, sort of.”
    “Only sort of?” He sat back in his chair. Outside, the night was dark and silent.
    “Well, I’d thought about it before. This sort of stuff.”
    “What sort of stuff, Bella?” He knew it would embarrass her to say it out loud, but he enjoyed making her squirm.
    “You know. Spanking? And, um, anal… stuff…”