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“Get out of my office.”
“Oh sweet, this is my office, not yours and not even your father’s—at least not until you finish paying me off.”
He has a point. Even if it’s still confusing that he forked over ten times what I needed to pay him back. “Yes, well—” I gasp, bucking against him when he releases my hands and tugs at the button of my jeans and my zipper. “What are you doing?”
“Apparently, you’re half-asleep today, so I’m giving you a wakeup call.” Kneeling in front of me, he jerks my jeans down until they’re pooled around my ankles. Parting my legs as much as he can, he cups my pussy, crooking his fingers just slightly. I moan and sift my fingers through his black hair. “You are mine, Felicity. Mine.”
I shake my head. Nod. Allow a sob to hitch in my chest. “They’ll know what we’re doing back here,” I whisper frantically.
“Your friend thinks I’m consoling you before we talk business numbers,” he says, kissing the bare flesh just above my clit. “She’ll keep believing that as long as you don’t scream. Can you do that for me, sweet?”
“Jackson.” But then he wiggles a finger into the entrance of my sex, and I squeeze my eyes shut, dropping my head back against the door. He pumps my pussy with one finger, strokes my clit with another, and blows hot little breaths against my slit.
“Do you think I can make you come without you screaming?” he questions again.
I move my head up and down, hating that I have to bite my tongue to keep from crying out. This is wrong. So terribly wrong. He’s just physically and verbally threatened customers just because he doesn’t want another man touching me. He’s in my father’s office, in the restaurant that my family owns, with his tongue and his fingers driving me into a frenzy. And for some fucked up reason, I’m absolutely turned on.
Heat stretches across my abdomen, pooling in my center as a rough orgasm rocks through me. I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood, but I don’t scream. I can’t because I’ll never be able to look my co-workers in the eye again if they realize what I’m doing at this very moment. When I’m finished climaxing, he stops me from shakily bending to pull up my pants. Challenging me with his turquoise stare, he laps greedily at my sex, his tongue darting out to teasingly taste me.
I start to close my eyes because the pressure is back—building quicker than before—but he reaches up and strokes my breast. “I told you this was a wakeup call, Little Flick. I want you to come again. I want you to look at me while you come.”
Though it’s the most difficult task I’ve ever done, I part my lashes and settle my green eyes on his. Everything about this moment strips me down—from his tongue probing my slick heat to his hands gripping my hips to hold me steady and, finally, to the hunger behind his gaze. I’ve never had a man stare at me like he wants to dominate every inch of me, but he does. Every time he looks at me. It’s scary and intense and dizzying, and my heart thuds as I watch him watching me as a new orgasm builds in my core and shatters me.
After the waves of pleasure have finished spiraling through me and I can hardly stand, he shimmies my jeans over my hips, grinning at the little gasp that falls from my lips when my wet panties come in contact with my pussy.
“Don’t ever do anything like that again,” I whisper huskily.
“Protect you from little shits or eat you out wherever I fucking please?” he demands and tilts my face up to his. He kisses me hard, giving me a taste of myself on his tongue. Fuck him and his tongue. Fuck me for molding against him and panting like a little kitten beneath his lips.
“Because I’ll do both again in a heartbeat,” he continues with a cocky smirk and backs away from me.
He smooths his large hands through his black hair, arranging it in the same professional, tidy style he wore into Dad’s office. I don’t understand how he can look so cool and unfazed when every emotion and nerve within me is in a state of panic. “You’re a bastard, Mr. Cade.”
“Always, sweet,” he murmurs. He steps around me to the door, but peeks over his shoulder to regard me with a giant grin. “I came by to ask you to dinner tonight. I’ll have a car pick you up at your apartment at eight. Same hotel after we’re done eating.”
“You’re going to squander your fortune renting penthouses in fancy hotels,” I say, planting my hands on my hips and resting the backs of my legs to the side of my father’s desk.
