Page 71

I’ve always hated this office, from the built-in bookshelves crammed with leather-bound lies to the bar cart in the corner that’s seen more deals sealed with scotch than trust. It’s not just the memories of tense conversations I’ve endured here—it’s what the space stands for. Money. Power. Control.

Those things run through my veins as well, but unlike Ronin Callahan, I don’t wield them like weapons to manipulate people who stand in my way.

A low whimper brings me back to the present, and I shove off of the wall to stalk toward Shilo softly. Slick sounds of him stroking himself fill my ears, the sound so fucking filthy that I almost release a groan. His pants are unzipped, tuxedo jacket draped over the back of the chair as his pale, hairless chest peeks through the top button of his shirt.

“I didn’t give you permission to come.”

His head snaps up, arm halting when our eyes collide.

“In fact, I specifically remember telling you not to touch yourself.”

Shilo huffs, keeping a hand wrapped around his dick. “Can’t help it, I think it’s the champagne. Made me horny.”

Judging from the way he’s slurring his words, I’d say that he’s probably been hiding and drinking all night. Naughty, naughty doll.

Coming around the desk, I raise a brow at him and cross my arms again. “How did you get in here? Your access is restricted.”

Those gorgeous—albeit glazed—eyes dance around my face as he licks his lips and swallows nervously. “I s-stole my sister’s badge. And the code was in an email you sent to Declan. Don’t be mad.”

“Oh, I’m not mad, doll face, I’m furious.” Leaning down, I grip the plush leather arms of the chair tightly, putting my face within inches of his. “Do you know how much trouble we could get into if you’re caught right now?”

A needy whine brushes against my lips as he jerks himself once. “Please, Ry, I need to come. Help me.”

God, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s drunk right now and violating so many company policies, I’d bend him over my father’s desk and pound his little hole as punishment. As it were…

Straightening, I lean a hip against the desk and gaze down at the angry, swollen head of his cock. I wish I could taste it, suck on it until he turned into a squirming, overstimulated mess. But I can’t touch right now.

“You can come,” I say, fighting a grin at the desperate moan that leaves his throat, “but you can’t touch yourself, and neither will I. Do it hands-free.”

“Huh?” His mouth drops open as he blinks down at himself. “H-how…how the frick am I supposed to do that?”

“Hmm, I suppose you’ll have to get creative.”

He glares at me, chest heaving as he looks around dazedly. Muttering a curse, he gets to his feet, his sticky length jabbing me in the stomach when he reaches up to undo my tie.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting creative.” Once it’s free, Shilo takes the tie and wraps it around his cock like a sling, shuddering when the fabric glides against it. “How expensive was this? Feels so good.”

“It’s Brioni silk.” Fuck, the way his leaking crown looks sliding in and out of the material is obscene.

“I don’t know what that means.” Thrusting his hips, he lets out a filthy moan as his head falls back, and I’m so damn tempted to sink my teeth into his pretty throat. Put my marks on him, claim him for all to see.

“I…hate your…dad,” he pants through clenched teeth. Something about the unhinged way he snarls those words drives me fucking crazy, like the champagne tonight was enough to obliterate his inhibitions completely.

“You and I both, doll.” Everything inside of me right now is screaming for release, the urge to pull out my own cock becoming painful to ignore. Especially when he turns his body so that each thrust has his balls rubbing against the edge of the desk.

“He…I—mm, God.” My little doll tenses as a rope of cum shoots from his dick. Hips slowing, he completely coats the keyboard, covering it with wave after wave of his sticky release in the hottest display I’ve ever seen. Crying out, he bites his lip, still rubbing himself with my tie until he’s drained of every last drop, and only then do I allow myself to touch him.

My hands hold him steady as his legs give out, nearly collapsing forward, my name rolling off his tongue. His head hits my chest and he nuzzles closer, inhaling deep before sighing.

“You always smell so good, you know?”

With a chuckle, I grab the tie from his hand and set it aside before reaching down to fix his pants. “It’s an imported fragrance. I modeled for their campaign during my junior year of college.”

“Mm, underwear,” he mumbles, swaying on his feet. “Waterfalls. Palm trees.”

My brows fly up as I lower him onto my father’s chair, buttoning up the top of his shirt. “Have you been researching me, doll face?”