He doesn’t let up.
“Shit.” I pant against his mouth. I’m in so much trouble.
“I told you you’d spread your legs for me eventually, didn’t I?” He’s smug as he finger-fucks me, curling inside me.
“You don’t knowhow hard I am. I could come all over your pussy right now, with you just like this. Is that what you want you want? My cock?”
Crap. Somehow he’s going to make me come again. I grab at his hand. As much as I want to tear open his starched white shirt and rake my nails over his washboard abs, that feels a little bit like it would be heading into lovemaking territory. And though yes, I might be merrily skipping down the road to sex with my client, I am not falling in love with him.
He’s stroking me now, his fingers a delicious friction on my pussy, trying to wring another orgasm from me.
“Am I making you fall in love with me yet?” He kisses me, nuzzles my neck. “Mm? Am I your whole world?”
“Never,” I gasp as he brings me higher and higher. “God, I hate you,” I choke out as I come, shuddering and grinding against his hand like I’ve never had an orgasm before.
To be fair, nothing with any of my former fiancés or lackluster ex-boyfriends was anything like what McCarthy just did.
He licks his fingers like a cat while he half leans over me, watching as I pant, messy and half passed out on the seat of his car. He’s playing with my tits, stroking them, and I slap at his hands when I realize he’s scrawling his signature over my skin.
“Stop it.”
I turn away from him, trying to tug my clothes back into place.
“After that, I should make you get on your knees and suck my dick before I let you back upstairs,” he says, his tone conversational.
“Screw you.”
“Think about it, Cupcake.”
My phone goes off. I jump for it, but he’s faster, grabbing my wrist and twisting it until I grunt in pain.
“Give me that.”
He shoulder checks me so I can’t take the phone from him. McCarthy swipes, displaying the message on the lock screen, and angles his body suddenly so I can’t see the screen.
“Give me your hand,” he orders.
“No.”
“Do it.”
His hand is a vise on my wrist as he uses my thumb to unlock the phone. His face is dark and murderous as he forwards the message to himself then deletes it from my phone.
“What is it?”
He ignores me, tossing the phone back to me. “You’re coming upstairs with me.”
Have some self-respect, Jenna.
“No thanks.”
His fist connects with the window, making me jump.
“I’m done playing with you.” His hand is on my neck, his teeth bared, his nose practically touching mine. “See reason for once in your life.”
“I’m not sucking your dick,” I tell him stubbornly.
His features shift from anger to an approximation of soft affection. It’s unsettling.
