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I can’t quite work out if the timing redefines creepy or redefines hot.
“You had this designed on the first day I worked for you!”
“Yes,” he replies, not a not of shame in his voice.
“Well… What the hell?”
“When you glared at me while wearing that tight little skirt, outraged that I’d asked you to do your fucking job—”
I inhale sharply, readying myself to reexplain for the fifth time that it was his insufferably superior tone that set me off that day. Instead, my moxie is arrested by the depth of his voice, and the thick rumbling of longing in his timbre.
“I knew I would be driven made until I saw you on your knees, with your hands tied behind your back… and my collar around your throat.”
I try to ignore the throbbing between my legs and use my energy to glare instead. “And how, may I ask, did you know you wouldn’t be wasting your money?”
“Because my cock demanded that it taste you, Indigo.”Holy cockles. “And because I could see in your eyes that I made you wet, even when you gave me attitude. Or… was I wrong?”
He takes a step towards me, pulling me closer with one hand as the other wanders down the front of my abdomen, his fingers, slipping under the waistband of my leggings, under which I’m wearing nothing.
I stop his hand’s descent, grabbing his wrist with my left hand, not wanting him to feel that I’m so wet because of his little toys and the way he’s glaring at me that I could probably rehydrate the Sahara Desert.
“You’re such an… arrogant… presumptuous… asshole,” I stammer.
His hand slides further despite my attempts to stop it.
“An arrogant asshole who makes you very wet, and who turns you into a greedy little slut, if I’m not mistaken. That’s what you’re trying to hide from me, isn’t it?”
“Maybe,” I shrug. “Maybe not.”
I place his phone back onto the desk, my other hand still attempting to grapple with his superior strength. The man is standing perfectly still, barely having to flex his muscle to overpower me.
“The jeweler could see your name,” I say. “He knew these were for you.”
“I don’t give a fuck whether he knew,” Grey affirms starkly, his fingertips delving over my pubis. “He’s been in business for over twenty years. He has a lot of wealthy clients and he’s discreet. And he knows better than to fuck with me.”
“Well, there aren’t many women called Indigo around these parts,” I snap. “Believe it or not, I don't want to be known for being another one of your little playthings.”
“I'm not in the habit of engraving women’s names into my… toys,” he snarls. “Even if he knew who you were, I doubt he’d believe you were just a plaything if I’d go to that kind of trouble.”
“But… you ordered all this when we barely knew each other. It feels kind of… stalkerish.”
“I am your stalker, Indigo.”
His words steal my breath with the same speed as the fingers of his other hand crawl into my hair at the back, cranking my neck back and narrowing the gap between us so that I’m forced to peer up at him.
“Or rather,” he continues, “I’m yournewstalker, one who’s going to replace the memories of anyone who hurt you before.”
“I’m sure in your emotionally unavailable way you’re going forromantic, but to me, that sounds kind of…scary.”
His lips scrape the side of my face which he tilts using my hair. “Good,” he whispers. “I very much enjoy you a little scared.”
I really do try but I can’t help but whimper as his strong hand overpowers the last of my resistance, his fingers wandering into the dripping wet velvet of my outer sex.
“Fuck,” he groans, his respiration hoarse as he confirms what he already knew. “What a naughty little sub you are, wildflower.” He pushes his finger low until it teases the entrance to me. “So very needy… hungry… desperate to be filled up… or am I wrong?”
I don’t answer, my body stiffening as he rubs my clit up and down with his thumb as another finger begins to push into the tight hole with a tilt of his wrist.
“Greyson,” I gasp.
