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“I don’t even want to know why you would have them there.”

“That’s where I keep my wallet and keys. These are refills.”

I giggle, but then I cover my mouth. “Put me down,” I whisper.

He frowns, but places me gently on the first step. My pussy weeps at the loss of friction.

“What now?” he growls.

“Livia.”

Jesus, I won’t be able to look the housekeeper in her eyes. And I like her. She’s my only company in this huge house.

“I sent her home.” He snakes his arms around my waist and jerks me to him.

“You planned this?”

“I was planning to kill you.” He captures my mouth this time with urgency.

I woke up this morning to all the messages and likes of my post. It was unexpected. It was scary and empowering at the same time.

The confidence that all the reactions gave me didn’t serve me well. It made me feel like I matter. It made me feel like I have choices. It made me kiss Cormac on the patio.

Not only to shut him up. Not only because he is so fucking hot. But because I didn’t want to be the girl who waits for instructions, for approval, for agreement. I wanted to be the girl who takes what she wants.

Even if what she wants is the insufferable man kissing me currently, whom I have no business to crave.

My body strongly disagrees with that notion. I don’t want to buy into that reasonable stance anymore.

I’ll deal with the aftermath later, after at least one more orgasm. Pretty please. The last one clearly wiped out my brain.

I tug at his belt, and this time he doesn’t stop me. I fumble while he doesn’t stop kissing me, devouring me with his mouth, but finally, I trace the waistband of his briefs.

I pull away from him and gently peel his underwear down. His cock springs out, glistening with pre-cum. It’s huge and stiff. I stare at it for a moment. Mesmerized. And a bit scared.

“Wow,” I breathe, and he chuckles.

“Okay, sweetheart, this is not show and tell.” He tugs at my dress, pulling it over my head. “Beautiful,” he drawls.

His gaze roams down my bra-less chest. Oh my, I’ve been paid handsomely for my looks. People around the world have admired my pictures. I’ve been named one of the most beautiful people in the world at one point.

And never, ever have I felt like one. Until this man uttered the word, said it with his mouth and his intense eyes, I’ve never felt truly beautiful.

He’s not touching me, just admiring, and yet I feel it everywhere. Butterflies tickle around my stomach. Goose bumps and sweat pepper my skin. My entire body is ablaze.

It’s too much, so I quickly divert the attention. I sit down on a step behind me. Corm frowns at me, and I smile.

“Let me taste you.” I reach for him.

He steps closer, standing in front of me one step below. It’s not the best alignment, but something about having him between my spread legs while I sit instead of kneel makes me feel empowered.

I lean forward and grip his girth, my tongue darting out. I’ve never particularly enjoyed giving head. But I wrap my lips around his cock like it was the most delicious ice-cream.

His sharp intake of breath tingles through my body, and I feel it everywhere. It’s encouraging and rewarding. I take him as far as I can, helping myself with my hand, and he hisses again, his hands finding my hair.

His grip is almost painful, but not as agonizing as the need coiling in my center. Jesus, I might come just from sucking him off.

I don’t know if it’s all that pent-up tension, or simply an unprecedented chemistry between us, but my body is on fire. My heart is thumping, drunk on hormones. My core is clenching of its own accord.