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“Did you think about all the disgusting things I’d do to your flexible little body while his fingers were touching you—” He pressed our fingers lower. My panties strained as he pushed my fingers against my entrance. “Here?”
“He—he didn’t touch me there,” I gasped.
“Good.” He shallowly fucked our fingers in and out of my body, making my thighs tremble. “Well? You didn’t answer me, angel. Did you think about me fucking you?”
“Yes,” I breathed, and he smirked. “I always—”
“Always, what?” he prompted. He pushed harder, and I felt my panties rip at the force. “Always think about me?” I nodded, my breathing coming in shallow pants. He dropped his head forward, running his nose along my jaw. “I think about you, too.”
“Really?” I gripped his shirt in my other fist, dragging him closer. “Can I touch you?” He jerked his hips back, not letting me feel any part of his hard body.
“I think about you every time I’m in the shower,” he admitted. “I fuck my fist while I think about pounding into your tight cunt. I think about bending you over every surface in this house and fucking you senseless. I think about the way your pretty mouth would feel wrapped around me. Tell me what you think about, angel.”
“You—”
I could barely speak with the way he was shoving his fingers harder and deeper inside me, tearing the thin fabric with each brutal thrust. Only a few more and I knew he’d be inside me. We would be inside me.
“I think about you stretching me,” I gasped. “I think about you fucking me every second of every day. I think about you filling me up until I’m pregnant.” The words came out before I could stop myself.
He froze.
“What?” He pulled his face away from my jaw.
“I—I didn’t mean that—Eli—”
“You want me to get you pregnant?” he asked, his voice raw. “You want—you want a baby? With me?Mybaby?”
My brows quirked in confusion. “I—no.”
I couldn’t tell him the truth, that my ultimate dream was to be a mother, to live this life I was pretending to live with him for real. I couldn’t tell him that all I’d ever dreamt of was being pregnant and taking care of a million kids. I couldn’t tell him any of that for a million different reasons.
Disappointment flashed over his face before he moved his hand away, leaving my fingers buried inside me.
“This was a mistake,” he rasped. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—” His gaze flickered over my body again, my hand still between my legs. He shoved his hand through his hair as he turned away. “I’m sorry.”
Finally, my hand fell to my side as I watched him storm away, flicking the lamp off on his way. He stalked down the hall, pausing for only a moment before opening his bedroom door.
Shame and embarrassment heated my body. How could I let him do that to me? How could I let myself do that in front of him? I couldn’t believe I’d let myself go that far. He had an excuse. He was drunk.
But me?
I didn’t have an excuse other than being a stupid, horny bitch. I should’ve shoved him away, gone to my room, and fucked myself while I thought of him like I’d done every other night.
Instead, I made myself into a wanton fool in front of him. I’d be fucking lucky if he didn’t fire me first thing in the morning and send me on my way.
Maybe I should just pack my bags and leave. It would save us both the trouble and embarrassment.
12
elliot
My head poundedas I clutched it tightly in my hands, the fluorescent lights blinding. The little office felt suffocating, filled with my embarrassment and regret. I couldn’t believe I let myself get drunk enough to cross that line with Reagan last night.
Again.
I hadn’t only crossed it, I’d leaped way over the fucking line. It wasn’t even visible from how far I’d soared past it.
And this morning, it had been the most awkward few minutes of my life. She still made my breakfast and lunch, handing them off to me like nothing had happened. But I saw the tremble in her hands, the redness and puffiness of her eyes.
