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Chapter twenty-eight
Every time I breathed in, I smelled pussy. My whole car smelled like pussy. I was drenched in her fucking scent and I’d only had a taste. My dick stayed hard the entire drive home.
Thank fuck I had my door fixed because the moment we got back to my penthouse, I went to my room, slammed the door, and jerked my pants down off my hips.
I fell back on the bed, grabbing my cock in my fist and not giving a single fuck if Anniston heard the way my breath left my lungs in harsh, heavy gusts. Part of me wanted her to hear.Payback’s a motherfucker, isn’t it, Little Rebel?
She was torture, plain and simple—poison wrecking me from the inside out. I wanted to punish her for that, with my fingers in her cunt and my other hand around her throat.
I gripped harder. Stroked faster. My eyes fluttered shut, and my hips lifted off the bed to meet my hand with every thrust.
Do you hear that, Little Rebel? The thrusts. My groans? Skin smacking skin?
I hoped she did.
To the world, she was poised and full of grace, the perfect princess. To me, she was a little rebel—always managing to defy and surprise me.
I tugged harder, stroked faster, punishing myself for wanting her.
“Fuck,” I groaned out loud, feeling my balls draw tight.
Hot ropes of milky cum shot all over my stomach and chest, covering my tuxedo shirt. The dry cleaners were going to love this.
Fuck it. I paid them well.
When I got up to shower, I saw her shadow through the crack at the bottom of my door. It took every ounce of my willpower not to walk out of this room and slam her against the wall.
I smiled to myself, knowing she’d been listening. “Goodnight, Little Rebel.”
The next morning, I left for work before Anniston got out of bed. I’d just gotten comfortable in the chair behind my desk when someone knocked on my office door.
“It better be important,” I yelled across the room.
The door flung open, and Leo popped his head inside. “So… is she a screamer? I bet she’s a screamer.”
I hope she’s a screamer.
I propped my feet up on my desk, crossing them at the ankles as I leaned back in my chair. “It’s a good thing you take the bets instead of make them.”
He dumped a handful of skittles into the palm of his hand, then popped them into his mouth. “So, she’s one of those quiet moaner types?”
“I swear to everything holy, if you don’t shut the fuck up—”
Another knock on the door cut me off.
“Jesus, what is this? Ride Chandler’s Dick Day?” I pulled my feet down and sat up straight. “Come in.”
The door eased open, and Carl Miller stepped inside, one hesitant foot at a time. A cream-colored bandage wrapped around his hand where I’d pierced him with a knife. Someone with a conscience might have felt bad about that. I didn’t get where I was by feeling bad for people.
“Oh yeah.” Leo pointed to the door. “I forgot to tell you, Carl Miller is here.”
“No shit.”
Carl cautiously made his way inside, setting a stack of bills on top of my desk. I loved when they paid with cash. It made things so much easier. I also loved when I only had to send a message once. Carl was a good listener. I liked that, too.
“I was wondering if I could extend my line of credit. Just a couple thousand.”
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” I pointed to the empty chair in front of my desk. “Have a seat. I have a proposition for you.”
