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It’s more money than I can make in a year—hell, two.
“Let’s call it an advance,” he rumbles. “I want you to go shopping. Find your true style. No mask, Sofina. Show me and the world who you truly are.”
Okay, so maybe he’s a little charming and a little prince like.
He curls his fist over mine, sending currents of excitement shooting through me at his touch, and places my handful of cash against my chest. I wonder if he can feel the way my heart is hammering against my ribcage. His lips lift in a gentle, encouraging smile.
“Have fun. Spoil yourself and learn about the real you.”
“I can’t accept this,” I murmur, heat burning up my neck.
He lifts a brow. “You can and you will.” His tone brokers no room for argument.
“Thank you.” My voice is soft and breathy. I don’t even sound like myself.
“You’re welcome.” His dark eyes flicker with an emotion I don’t quite know how to read. “We’ll be in touch soon.”
At his soft dismissal, I scurry from his office. The secretary gives me a go to hell look, but I ignore her. I’m too busy shoving a giant wad of money into my purse.
Thousands.
He gave me thousands like it was no big deal.
Pocket change to a man of his caliber, but to a girl who competes for her tips with three other bartenders, it’s everything.
I wonder how many artists he has to do this with, strip them down to the bare, raw marrow underneath. My mind flips to the image of the girl who was sitting in his lap when I arrived. Maybe my brother is right, and I’ll have to thank him for this money later down the line?
No.
No way.
Ronan of all people doesn’t need to be a slimy jerk. He’s too successful and rich and handsome to need to coerce women. Oh God, he’s handsome. And he smelled divine. Masculine and powerful.
Shit, I’m so attracted to him.
But that’s not why he gave me the money—because he thinks I’m pretty and wants to make me his. No, it’s an investment in his artist.
Holy hell, I’m going to be his artist.
My stomach roils, and a wave of nausea washes through me. That really happened. I open my purse once more and look in at the money to make sure I didn’t fantasize the whole thing. Nope! Green bills, lots of them. It suddenly feels okay. Like I’m being awarded a small amount of pleasure in my life that’s held nothing of the sort thus far.
In somewhat of a daze, I head straight for the bar. My break was over an hour ago, and Lucca will ride my ass for it. For the first time in a long time, I don’t care.
Three days I’ve had this money. I haven’t been brave enough to spend it.
Running my hands through the dollar bills, I spread them out on the bed and lie on top of it, thinking about Mr. Hayes.
Every day I get myself off to thoughts of him to the point of soreness. He’s consuming my mind and body, and he doesn’t even know it. It’s becoming an embarrassing obsession. Thankfully it’s my dirty little secret and no one is none the wiser.
My fingers dance over my skin, teasing myself, making my heart skip as I reach into the vault of my mind for his image. Flicking my tongue out to wet my lips, my back arches from the mattress as I touch myself and fantasize about the way he gripped my face after marching me into his bathroom. Heat and hard muscle caging me in as he forced me to look into the mirror. My clit throbs as I circle it with the pad of my fingers.
“You don’t need to wear masks, Sofina. Just be you. You’re magnificent.”
A gasp escapes my lips when my mind conjures up his words and whispers them back to me over and over.
I imagine him pushing me forward, my hands reaching out to brace against the sink. His eyes are heating as they watch me in the mirror, those giant palms siding down my neck, arms, hips, thighs, ripping away the clothing barriers until I’m bare before him. My stomach dips and warm pleasure teeters me on the edge of orgasm. I imagine his hard cock being released from his slacks and slapping down on my ass crack, the heaviness of it making my pussy drip with an appreciation of what’s to come. His eyes never leave mine as my pussy pulsates, begging for his huge dick to plunge into me. My nipples ache with the need to be sucked on and tormented. His hands splay across my ass cheeks and spread them, teasing my tight butthole with the threat of penetration. My breathing is hitched and legs spread farther apart on the bed so I can push three fingers inside. I’m slick and swollen with just the thoughts of him. I’d probably buckle like an overfilled dam if he actually touched me.
