Page 37 of Own Me


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“No.” Our eyes meet, and heat floods my core when I see his blazing. This isn’t going to be gentle and that’s fine. I don’t want it to be.

I arch my back, taunting him.

With a curse, he lines up the head of his swollen cock and seizes my hips, his fingertips digging into my flesh almost to the point of pain.

I cry out as he thrusts deep into me.

* * *

“DidRaj help you get everything set up for next weekend?” Henry’s gravelly voice cuts into my focus.

I set my book on my nightstand and track him on his path from our en suite bathroom to his side of the bed, the cotton of his boxer briefs hugging his form. A more physically pleasing man can’t possibly exist. “Yes. He’s been a huge help.”

The moment I mentioned hosting Henry’s friends here, Raj’s eyes lit up. “Finally! Something more interesting than dry cleaning and grocery runs,” he’d said and fetched his phone. Within an hour, Sasha, with her thick-framed black glasses and clicky heels, was strolling into the penthouse with a clipboard to size up what she had to work with for the perfect Gothic-themed party. My only contribution to the planning so far.

“I knew he would be.” The mattress sinks under Henry’s weight. “Make sure you tell them everything has to be wrapped up before midnight.”

“And where are we going at midnight?” Henry said the guys fly in every year for this annual event, but he hasn’t said anything else.

“We won’t know until about an hour before when they text the ticket holders. The location changes every year.”

“Why so secretive?”

“Because it’s a secret party. Everyone wears a mask with their costume and no one knows who attends.”

My jaw hangs open. “Henry Wolfwears a Halloween costume?”

“For this party, which also happens to be on Halloween, yes.” A roguish smile curves his lips.

“What should we go as? Wait! I know! I’ll be Little Red Riding Hood and you can be—”

“No.” He settles onto his back. “Merrick’s taking care of the costumes for us.”

“What? Why?”

“Because it’s a themed event and the organizers are particular about the quality of costumes people arrive in. Something cheap or half-assed gets you disinvited the following year. That’s why Merrick arranges them. He always delivers.”

“But he doesn’t know my size.” Or me, for that matter.

“I told him everything he needed to know.”

An alarm bell goes off inside my head. “Whatexactlydid he need to know?”

Henry’s smile grows wider.

“Henry,” I huff.

His eyes land on me. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes, but—”

“Have I ever asked you to do something you didn’t enjoy?”

“I guess not.”

He clears his throat.

“No,” I concede, my cheeks heating as thoughts of some of the more risqué things Henry has asked me to do flood my mind.

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