After divorce I am a billionaire

He looked at the ruler in Lyra's hand. His body tensed almost immediately, and he asked by a fluke, "How do you want ... to punish me?" Lyra pressed the end of the ruler gently against his chin, " You volunteer to be punished. It's hard to turn down the warm-hearted offer. So, | have to be the villain." Malcolm was wordless.

Lyra continued, "What do you think the punishment should be for this one?" Malcolm barely needed to think and answered honestly, "My whole body is exclusive to you. You can punish me in any way you want." "Is that so?" Lyra raised her eyebrows badly and recklessly.

Holding the ruler, she slowly moved down and gently poked Malcolm between the legs.

"Can you be punished here too?" Malcolm's entire body shuddered and was in horror, "No. This is about our eternal happiness. No punishing, only doting." Lyra: "You made a mistake and you still want to be doted? And still want to have sex comfortably?" His face was lovable and he quickly came over and kissed Lyra on the cheek ingratiatingly, "I don't dare. It's all up to you." Lyra's anger had mostly subsided.

Although she was annoyed Malcolm deliberately concealed and did not give an honest account of the fact that a girl was chasing him, she believed that Malcolm would not dare to do anything bad behind her back.

She believed in Malcolm's love for her, but that didn't mean she'll let him off easy tonight.

Couples should be honest with each other. This truth had to be taught to him.

With that in mind, she grimaced and poked at the buttons on the collar of Malcolm's shirt.

"The old rule, strip yourself." Malcolm did not hesitate at all. He immediately unbuttoned and took off the shirt.

His perfect body shape and delicate abs were revealed. His skin was till tanned which caused in the border, and the color looked like honey, which embodied extreme sexiness.

When he didn't continue, Lyra decided to nudge the belt around his waist with the ruler, "Forgot again? Do you want me to help you?" Malcolm had to continue to take off his pants, and after stripping himself, he reverted to a proper and disciplined kneeling position.

Lyra continued nudging his left arm with the ruler, "Reach out." Malcolm dutifully did so, spreading his left palm out and handing it to her.

Lyra face looked ferociously horrible. Decisively waving her arm, she raised the ruler high, which looked particularly frightening, as if his palm would experience the sharp pain like being burned with sizzling oil.

Malcolm swallowed hard and withdrew his left hand back, "Babe, how many time do you want to beat me tonight? First ... give me an accurate number, so | can be mentally prepared.” Lyra wrinkled her eyebrows and nudged his arm with the ruler again, gesturing for him to put his hand out.

"Tonight, without counting. I'll beat you until you sincerely admit your mistake." Malcolm had just put his left hand out, and upon hearing her words, as if he had found a savior, he "rescued" his hand back.

"I'm sorry. | really know I'm wrong. From now on, | absolutely dare not hide it from you. And | will not have any out-of-the-ordinary actions outside behind your back. I'm sincere." Lyra was not quite satisfied, "You haven't been beaten yet but admit your fault so soon. Obviously, you're very perfunctory. I'll serve you ten appetizers first." Malcolm was speechless.

He was so aggrieved that he could only meekly extend his hand.

Watching Lyra swing the ruler once again, he closed his eyes tightly and waited for the sharp pain to sweep over him.

One second.

Two seconds.

Because his eyes were closed, all of his sensitive points converged on his palm at this point, and his jawline was taut.

But to his surprise, what landed in his palm was not a vicious ruler, but the touch of soft lips.

He was slightly startled and opened his eyes abruptly to see Lyra holding his left hand and kissing it ten times very seriously.

Obviously, she was doing a very gentle and spoiling action. However, when Lyra kissed his palm, her expression was still fierce, like a furious kitten.

"How do those ten appetizers taste? Can you remember the lesson?" Malcolm's dark eyes stared at her obsessively, "I'll remember to the end of my life. | never dare again.” Lyra then retook the ruler, pinched his fingertips and punched him hard in the palm.

Snap! The palm quickly turned red.

The sudden onslaught of pain caused Malcolm to hiss softly.

He thought he didn't have to take a beating so he really can't have any fluke.

What was different this time was that she gave him a carrot first, then the stick later.

Lyra scolded him seriously,"Will you remember this pain? If there is a next time, I'll beat you directly with the ruler, don't think | will let you go off." Malcolm nodded honestly and went over to give her a sly kiss on the cheek, "I'll remember this. | promise | won't do it again.

You're the best." Lyra helped him blow the pain away and her fingers gently rubbed his wound.

They were just light beatings and he quickly felt no pain.

But Lyra did not want to let him go, got close to his ear, and said with provocative tone, "Honey, | punish you to lie flat tonight. | want to ‘torture’ you." This "torture" was a reward for Malcolm, a sign that Rara loved him, and he loved it.

His long body lay down next to her on the bed, flatly seducing her.

"Come on babe. Ravage me. I'm ready." Lyra stifled a laugh and turned off the overhead light in the bedroom.

Then she rode on him ...

Darkness was mysterious and wonderful. It was perfect to explore treasures.

All the unspeakable happiness was hidden in the darkness.

The next day, Lyra, who was hard-working last night, surprisingly did not have an attack once again.

Malcolm was delighted and felt that the hope was just around the corner for Lyre Spiti.

Seeing that Lyra was still asleep, he could not bear to disturb her. After skillfully performing the morning kissing ritual, he gingerly washed up and left Lyre Spiti.

By the time he arrived at the bureau's office, Chad had arrived without invitation and had been squatting in a standard horse stance for an hour in the open space in front of his office table.

Malcolm saw him as soon as he opened the door and said sarcastically, "What a rarity! My soon-to-be deputy director. What mistake did you make? Running over here to do the horse stance?" Chad's physical fitness was good. After an hour of horse stance, his face was not red and he was not panting from exhaustion, "Last night | was too reckless. | accidentally spilled the beans. You must have been questioned by Lyra last night, right? It's all my fault. As long as you can forgive me, | can do anything.” Malcolm took off his military jacket, neatly folded it, and walked carelessly to the table in front of him and sat down.

"It was indeed your fault but it's a good thing Rara was generous and didn't bother with me. Otherwise, I'm afraid | wouldn't have been able to come to the bureau this morning." Chad heard that there seemed to be a turnaround in this matter, "It seems Lyra is not angry? Does that mean | can't be punished?" Malcolm sentenced him seriously, "You still need to be punished. After all, what you say always spoil my life. How many times have you been a lame assist? It's countless, right?" Chad felt it bitter, "I am wronged. | am helping you sincerely. | didn't mean to be a lame assist." Malcolm nodded and pretended be serious. Flipping through the paperwork in his hands, he didn't even look at him, "That's low 1Q. How about sending you to the boot camp counseling room for half a month?" "Ah!?" Chad maintained the standard horse stance, grimaced as if he had eaten something very bitter and felt extremely aggrieved.

"It means to experience half a month of devil training. I'll soon be promoted to deputy director. | got many important tasks now.

Bro, spare me!" Malcolm, who looked like he was nice, said mercifully, "Then deduct your six-month bonus at White Corp, or do two hundred and forty-nine push-ups plus two hundred and forty-nine minutes of handstands against the wall." For this kind of multiple choice questions, he simply did not need to think about it.

Chad said decisively, "I choose push-ups and handstands." But he was a little puzzled, "But why is it two hundred and forty-nine?" Malcolm snorted, raised his eyes to gaze at him and taunted sharply, "Because you are intellectually potty, not even better than two hundred and fifty." (Two hundred and fifty means stupid person.)