Page 124 of Hate Me Like You Mean It

Christ. I’d happily sign away a fucking organ to shove my cock into that mouth just once.

“Open it.”

She peeled the lid off, and it was my turn to break character. “Are you fucking serious?” I asked her, my brows hitting my hairline.

She shrugged. “I learned pretty quickly that having sex with most men is a lot like trying to scratch an itch with a feather. So I took matters into my own hands.”

The thing was filled with a range of toys of all different shapes, colors, and sizes. Images of her using each one flashed through my head, and I almost blacked out.

Clearing my throat, I ripped my gaze away and willed myself back into character. It took a minute.

“Which one is your favorite?” I asked.

“Why would my boss need to know that?”

“I already said I need your help picking out a gift for my wife.” I dragged a chair over to the bed and took a seat, trapping her knees between my own. “How many more times do you expect me to repeat myself, Miss Cloutier?”

She tentatively reached into the box and pulled out a red rose. “Fine. Here. This would be my recommendation. I’ll go ahead and order one for you tomorrow. Are we good?”

“I’d like a little product demonstration first. Need to make sure it really works.”

She swallowed, her cheeks flaming as her eyes shimmered with excitement. “What if someone walks in?”

“The door is locked, and my wife left on a business trip this morning. Won’t be back until next week. You’d know that if you were doing your job.”

She squirmed. “But… wouldn’t she get mad if she found out?”

“I’m disciplining a mouthy intern who refuses to do her fucking job while simultaneously picking out a gift for her. I’m doing nothing wrong, so there’s nothing for her tofind out.” I sat back, gripping my bulge. “Now, open your fucking legs.”

She squirmed again, panting a little as she hesitated. I edged forward and grazed her cheek with my thumb. “Hey. Are you good?”

That smile of hers could’ve brought an entire kingdom crumbling to the ground if she timed it right. “Yeah. This is fun. Like… more fun than I was expecting.”

A soft chuckle drifted out of me as I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Good.”

“What about you?” she asked. “Are you having fun?”

My heart pinched. “More fun than I’ve had in a long, long time.”

Her expression softened. “Okay.”

“Okay,” I whispered back. “We keep going?”

She nodded, and I stole a quick kiss before reassuming my position. “Spread your legs. I won’t ask again.”

With a slow shiver, she squeezed her thighs together. Then, gingerly, she opened them, nudging down her skirt to keep herself covered.

“Lift your skirt.”

Her grip on the fabric tightened before she peeled it up to reveal her perfect, mouthwateringly dark pink pussy.

I leaned forward and forced her thighs wider apart. She tried to wiggle away and cover herself again, but I tightened my grip and pinned her in place. She broke character with a moan that made my head spin.

“Why the fuck are you soaking fucking wet?” I growled accusingly.

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

She whimpered, turning her head into the duvet as I brushed a thumb over her slit. “This is completely inappropriate, Miss Cloutier. I’m a married man.”