Hips swaying. Goose bumps spreading. Arousal thrumming all over my body.
I lower my lips to his, and before he can take over, I clip his wrist to the armrest.
I pull away, and he looks down and smirks. “Well-played, Little Thunder, well-played.”
“Thank you.” I bite my lower lip and saunter back to the desk. “Now be a good boy, and stay there.”
The hunger in his eyes has a direct line to my core, and I almost whimper. Being desired by this man is a dangerous impulse.
“You were wrong yesterday,” I start, and pull the toy out of my purse. “This is the remote I was looking for.” I show him a small pink gadget.
He swallows and pushes with his legs to move the chair.
“Not so fast.” I raise my finger, stopping him. “You can only watch.”
He licks his lips. “Is this your revenge for leaving you there yesterday?”
“You’re catching on quickly.” I hop onto his desk.
“May I remind you, I made sure you were well taken care of before I left?”
“And well discarded, too,” I retort.
“Roxy, that’s not…” He swallows around his plea, the regret and apology in it tugging at something in my chest. “I’m sorry,” he says simply.
The air is now thick with more than our need, and I almost run away, leaving him there.
But that would be a capitulation, and he already pulls at too many of my strings; I can’t give him more access.
“Now, you watch only. For the last time. This affair is taking too much time and… it’s not worth my future.”
He winces.
Before I regret my words and let his reaction talk me out of anything, I spread my legs and slowly push the egg inside me.
Liam’s guttural groan is low and dangerous. The man who makes me lose control is struggling to keep his.
I push theonbutton, and the vibration makes me gasp. “If you don’t move, I’ll let you use the remote.” Iincrease the intensity and gasp, the stimulation edging me faster than I expected.
“Fuuuck,” he grits out. “You’re perfect.”
His praise. Again. Jesus.
I clench around the toy and lower the setting, because I might come in under a minute.
Our gazes lock, and I’m not sure if I like what I read in his. A mixture of need, desperation, and something else I can’t decipher.
“If you think this can get you off as good as me, be my guest. I certainly enjoy the view. But as soon as you’re done with your little show, Thunder, we will talk.”
I pant, fighting the overwhelming need to come. “We don’t talk. That’s not who we are.”
“There are things to be discussed.” His breathing is labored.
“I-I-I disagree.” The chase for release wins, and I jab the plus on the remote to get the highest intensity.
“We’re not over,” he growls. “Get it out of your pretty head.”
Chapter 18
