Page 75 of Undeniably Corrupt

“You.”

I shake my head, unable to trust my voice with how he says that and the way it makes me feel. Itchy and tingly and tight and out of control. “What else?”

“Control. Pain. Pleasure.”

“What kind of pain?”

“All different kinds, but nothing more than you could handle and wouldn’t want.” His hand glides over my breast, and he pinches my nipple until I whimper at the sting but also feel my empty core flood with heat and wetness.

Oh, fuck.

“What kind of pleasure?”

He licks the seam of my lips as he continues to play roughly with my nipples. “Your pleasure. The kind you need. The kind that would have you begging me for more.”

I pant. “Vander.” I shake my head again. “We said?—”

“Then why are you in here wearing nothing but my shirt?”

“I…”

“Should I release you and let you go to bed? Once again pretend this never happened?”

My eyes pinch shut, and I bite my lip. I need to say yes, but I can’t make the word come out. I don’t want to get my heartbroken by this man again. That’s what happens to girls like me. We spend a week or two in the billionaire’s bed, and then when he grows bored, he casts us aside. Men like him never get serious with the former stripper. This isn’t a movie, and there is no Hollywood ending. And he broke my heart once. He walked away from me. How could I trust that he wouldn’t do it again?

I’m living in his house, and he’s paying my salary, and he bought me clothes, and I don’t know what I’m doing.

I’m scared. And I’m tired of being scared.

He cups my jaw and nibbles on my lips. “You can say no. You can always say no.”

I release a heavy breath and open my eyes. “I don’t want to. That’s what scares me most.”

His nose glides along my jaw. “Did you miss me, my angel? Did you want to sleep in my shirt because it felt soft and smelled like me? Did you need that piece of me touching your body?”

I’m shaking, my knees barely able to hold me up.

His mouth trails hot, wet kisses up and down my neck as he speaks against my feverish skin. “Were you thinking about when I licked your pretty cunt? When I dry fucked you on my desk? About how hard I made you come? That was only the tip of the iceberg, you know. Only the very surface of what I can do to your body.”

Jesus Harold Christmas. I can’t… I shouldn’t… I have reasons!

“Has anyone ever worshipped you? Ever owned your pleasure as theirs?”

I’m losing my mind as he continues to lick and suck on my neck while his other hand works my tits in a way I can’t even begin to formulate words for.

“Only you,” escapes before I can stop it, but it’s true. As sad as it sounds, Vander is the only man I’ve ever had an orgasm with during sex. The only man who was ever attentive andnurturing and attuned to getting me off. And he wasn’t even a man then. He was a boy.

He groans, and his hand that had been working my tits slides down the front of the shirt and up beneath it until he cups my bare pussy.

“So wet for me.”

I can’t even deny it. I’m like a faucet only he knows how to turn on.

“Such a good little angel.”

Two fingers slip into me, and I scratch at his hand holding my wrists. “Ah. Vander.”

“What?” he whispers against my neck as his fingers pump in and out. “Tell me.”