Page 16

A shiver crawls through my spine at the firmness of his tone. His harsh gaze falls on me and holds me rooted to the spot.

After a moment passes and I’m still frozen before him, his left eyebrow slowly lifts into a sharp peak. He’s already touched me in the most private places. Hell, we’ve already fucked. But the way he’s looking at me, like he wants to take stock, paralyzes me.

“Megan.” My name breaks through the silence. “Now is not a good time to rebel against me. Take. Off. Your. Clothes.”

There are two buttons left on my blouse to work open, then I’m able to shrug out of the blouse. After draping it across the chair beside me, I shimmy out of my jeans and add them to the chair.

I glance at him with some hope that he’ll let me stop here.

He tilts his head in a silent question— Why aren’t you doing as told?

Focusing my attention on the task at hand, I move my gaze to the black stapler. It seems so out of place. An ordinary, run-of-the-mill stapler sitting among such extravagance, it’s not supposed to be here.

Like me.

The hook of my bra comes undone easily and the straps fall down my shoulders. I grab the cups before they can drop away from my chest. He’s seen me already—there’s nothing I can hide from him—yet self-preservation rules me.

There’s no point; he’ll take it from me if he wants to. He can rip off my panties and do whatever he wants to me. No one here will stop him.

I pull the bra free of my arms and drop it with the rest of my clothes, then hook my thumbs into the elastic of my panties. Shoving them down over my hips and down to my ankles, I busy my mind, blocking out the fact that he’s watching.

Judging.

“Put your hands on your head,” he orders, leaning back in his chair like a king.

“Alexander, what are you doing? I’m sorry I lied.” I fold my arms over my chest and press my thighs together as tightly as I can.

“I’m sure you are. Especially since you got caught.” He moves to his feet effortlessly and glides around the desk, never taking his heated gaze off me.

When he’s behind me, the warmth of his body spreads across my bare back. He leans into me, the soft dusting of his five o’clock shadow rough against my shoulder.

“Hands on your head. I’m tired of fighting you. You’re going to learn once and for all who is in charge here.” His voice is firm, raw, unwavering.

Raising my hands over my head, I lay them one on top of the other. My nipples pull tight as my face erupts into an inferno.

“See, not so difficult.” He kisses my shoulder as his arms wrap around my middle. His touch is light, feathering upward to my breasts.

My breath catches as he takes both nipples between his fingers and pinches. When he releases me, he kisses my neck.

“You need to be punished.” He drags his teeth along the soft flesh of my neck.

“No, I don’t.” A mouse makes more noise than me at this point. It’s his fault for all his leather and spice smell, his heated body next to me, and his fingers still trailing along my body, outlining me.

“You do.” He grabs my hips and spins me around to face him, lifting me at the same time and hoisting me onto his desk. The stapler and other desk items are knocked out of the way as he pushes me farther onto the desk.

I catch his gaze; the simmering chocolate of his eyes heats me to my core. It shouldn’t be so easy for him to get into my head. Just a look, a simple touch, and I’m melting for him.

It’s not fair.

Using both hands, he pushes my hair from my face. “No more lying.”

“I already promised.”

“Say it again,” he orders roughly.

“I promise. No more lying.”

“Unbuckle my belt.” He grabs my wrists and puts them at his waist. If he wasn’t staring down at me with such severity, maybe I’d be able to tell him to go to hell a little easier.

Pulling the thick leather through the loop of his trousers and then working it through the buckle, a flood of warmth settles deep inside of me. Was this the belt he put around my neck the other night? It feels heavy, as that one did, but I’m sure a man like Alexander has more than one belt.

“Now undo my pants.” He brushes another hair away when it falls forward. The button opens easily, and I grasp the zipper.

A pang of unease cuts through the heat pooling low in my core. If I refuse him, what will happen to me, to Mira? Is this the price for his protection… to become his plaything, to sell myself to him? It feels like an invisible collar around my throat. And worse, I can’t decide if I hate it or crave it.

“Megan.” My answer is in the way he says my name. It’s softer, sensual.

When I tilt my eyes up to his, I instantly lose myself in the molten chocolate of his gaze. He won’t take more than I’m willing to give. And in this moment, I seem more willing than ever to give over to him completely.

He steps closer, enveloping me in the masculine scent of his aftershave and the warmth of his body, allowing me to undo his zipper with more ease. The room is silent, save for the teeth of the zipper opening.

“Good girl. Reach in and pull out my cock,” he whispers into my ear, sending a tremor through my body.

He steps even closer, making it easier to slip my hand into the opening of his trousers. Sliding my hand beneath the elastic of his black boxers, the tips of my fingers brush against him.

His breath catches as I glide my hand along the thick length of him and wrap my hand around the base of his cock. It’s so warm and solid, so fucking hard. With my free hand, I shove his trousers and boxers down enough for his cock to spring free.

“Good girl.” He wraps his hand around the back of my neck, drawing me up to him, and kisses me. It’s a harsh kiss, one screaming of possession.

When he breaks the kiss, he spreads my legs open, wraps his arm around my waist, and pulls me to the edge of the desk.

Slowly, I stroke his cock, feeling the strength of him in my palm. I squeeze a little, determined to show him he’s not the only one with power.

He lets loose a guttural sound and shoves my hand away. He sweeps my right leg up and cradles it in his elbow while he drives forward in one thrust.

I have to lean back a little as his cock fills me, stretches me. He gives me no time to adjust to his size as he thrusts into me again and again, pulling me closer to him with each thrust.

Grabbing on to the edge of the desk, I use it as an anchor as his thrusts get harder. My ass edges across the desk with each movement.

“Look at me, Megan,” he demands and my gaze flicks to his. His brow pulls tight as he drives into me. “Lean back,” he orders, sliding his hand from behind my neck and slowing his movements.

Dropping my elbows to the desk, I lower my back to the desk while one hand grips my hips, pulling me toward him as he plows into me.

“Such a good girl now. Play with yourself for me. Play with that little clit of yours.” His fingertips dig into my thigh as he gives his order. “I want to see you play.”

Hunger like I’ve never felt before creeps up into my soul. I want his approval here. No, I need it.

I need him to call me his good girl again.

Slowly, I reach between our bodies. His eyes never leave my movements as the tips of my fingers brush across my sensitive, swollen clit.

“Fuck,” I whisper as the sensations build.

He scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip while watching me play with my clit for him. At his command. His jawline tenses and he thrusts even harder.

Reaching even farther down, my fingers graze his shaft as he plows in and out of my pussy. He groans as I split my fingers around his cock, rubbing it as he continues to fuck me.

“Your clit,” he growls, twisting his hips and hitting a spot inside me that erupts into a shower of pleasure.

I slide a second hand between our bodies and begin to roll my clit beneath the tip of my middle finger. I’m no stranger to this and I know exactly where the pressure point is. It’s no time before I’m teetering at the edge.

“Fuck,” he grunts as my eyes roll back and the sensations pull me to the very brink.

How can a man who makes me see red just by being in the room give such pleasure? It’s as though his touch can wash away all the irritation, all the arrogance, all the fucked-up messes of everything around me.

I pull my free leg back, resting the heel on the edge of the desk, and arch upward to him. I’m so fucking close. Every muscle tightens, and the coil is ready to spring.

“Oh!” The pleasure crests. I’m about to free-fall over the edge into oblivion. One more?—

“No, no.” Alexander grabs my wrist, pulling my touch away from my body just as the first wave of my orgasm was about to sweep me away.

“No!” I tug on my hand, but he has that cocky grin on his face again.

When I move my other hand, he releases my leg and grabs hold of my wrist as well. Easily, he captures both wrists in one hand as he pulls free of my body and fists his own cock.

He strokes himself, rubbing the tip of his dick over my pussy lips as he finds his own release, leaving me dangling over the edge.

“Alexander!” I moan. It’s not fair.

Hot ropes of cum land on my pussy and just above, some getting on my stomach. His eyes close and he draws in a deep breath, letting my wrists go.

When he opens them, the warm pool of arousal is gone, and the stone is back.

“Naughty girls don’t get to come, Megan.” He steps back from the desk and tugs his clothes back on, tucking his cock, still slick with my arousal, into his boxers.

I swallow around the rage building in my throat and scramble from the desk. How do I keep letting him put me in these situations? He just used me! He fucking used me like some cheap whore and now he’s grinning at me while I stuff myself back into my clothes.

“You… I hate you.” I glare at him once I’m dressed.

He nods. “You hate how turned on you are right now.”

“No, Alexander. I hate you.” I throw my shoe at him, which he easily catches and brings to me.

“You dropped this,” he says with that arrogant grin of his that makes my blood boil.

I sigh. There’s no winning here.

“I’m tired. I just want to go to bed.” I snag the shoe from him and carry both of them to the door.

“It is late,” he agrees, joining me at the door and opening it.

When we get to the bedroom, I go straight to the bathroom to wash off the mess he’d left on my body with a warm washcloth. Most of it soaked into my clothes, but there’s a remnant of his cum clinging to my skin.

After scrubbing off the evidence of my punishment, I dump everything into the laundry and throw on my nightshirt.

Surely he has to be gone by now, so I venture out into the bedroom. Disappointment mixed with relief fills me at the sight of the empty room.

I slip beneath the covers, glancing at the door.

He didn’t even say good night.

The closet door opens, and he walks out in his boxers, working open the band of his watch.

“What are you doing?” I ask as he casually walks around the foot of the bed. “You didn’t mean it when you said you were staying in here tonight.”

His shirt is gone, leaving me with the view of his muscular chest and stomach. I knew he was fit, but fuck, the man is solid. The ripples of his stomach fade into a distinctive V-shape, leading my eye to the elastic of his boxers.

My body still craves an ending he refused me, and seeing him in this state is making my situation worse. I need him to leave, so I can fix this.

But instead of heading to the door, he pulls back the covers on the other side of the bed.

“Of course I did. I don’t say things I don’t mean.” He climbs in and brings the blankets up over himself as he leans up on his elbow to look at me.

“Maybe I should go to a different room then?”

“You’re not going anywhere.” He brushes his fingertips along my jaw. “Go to sleep. If you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll reward you in the morning.”

I clench my jaw and flip over to my right side. Fine. If he wants to sleep here, fine. It’s his bed after all. And it’s enormous.

There’s no reason we can’t both be in it and not even touch.

The lights go out and a second later, his heavy arm wraps around my middle and I’m dragged halfway across the bed until his chest is pressed against my back.

“I hate you,” I whisper into the dark.

“I know.” He pushes the hair from my neck and places a soft kiss.

“You can’t keep me here forever.”

He presses one more kiss.

“Can’t I?”