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The man starts to say something and puts his hand out to remove mine when I look at him.
He steps back and holds his hands up. “Sorry, Mia.”
“Let go of me,” she says, her voice a hiss.
I ignore her and drag her back across the bar to the hall. I don’t stop until we reach her office.
Then I let her go.
She spins, gaze full of fire. “What the actual fuck?”
“Same to you, Mia. You go plaster yourself over some guy to piss me off? Well, you did.”
“You don’t own me. I can do what I want.”
“You’re wrong,” I say, stalking up to her.
“In what way?”
“Right now, I own you, Mia. And no, you can’t do what you want. Not without my say so.”
“Asshole.”
“You think I’m an asshole now? You fucking infuriate me with how you flaunt your vulnerability. I found that fucking note, Mia, and you didn’t tell me or the guys? What in hell kind of game are you playing? You piss me off, not the other way around, and I should spank you for all this bullshit. For you not coming to me.”
Her eyes glitter. “Spank? I don’t think so.” She puts her hand on me to push me away.
Something in me snaps.
I take hold of her and spin her, pushing her so she lands on the desk, ass inviting in the air. Leaning over her, I slide a hand between her legs, and she moans low.
“Christian . . .”
“I could spank you, but I have a better idea. I’m going to fuck you instead.”
ChapterFive
MIA
Christian is pressed down on me. He’s big and hard, and I’m wet.
I should be screaming, running, fighting, but I’m not. The word no is on my lips, but I don’t give it breath.
Fucking Christian is a mistake. Him on me like this is a violation, and one my body shockingly wants. I’m wet, I’m pushing back into him, and I’m losing my mind.
“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” His breath is hot on my nape, his tongue wet as he traces a line there, and his other hand, that’s between my thighs.
It moves higher.
I don’t want this. I want this. I . . .
Oh. God. He’s touching me now, fingers running along the gusset of my panties. He presses up, his fingers teasing at my opening with the panties, and they slide against my slickness.
He bites down on my nape, and I cry out, a small spasm rocketing through me.
“Beg me, Mia.”
“Christian.” I hiss his name, and his hand moves from me, his weight. But he holds me there with one palm on my back as he tugs up my dress, and the cool air teases against my ass.
