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From that small demonstration, I was sure sex with Liam would be different from the poor excuse of an experience I’d had. He surely looked like someone who had had plenty of it anyway. Putting the word “sex” in the same sentence as Liam’s name had me dangling closer to an edge I couldn’t define.
My mind was in dangerous territory, followed suit by my hands.
Before I knew it, I had sunk two fingers inside me, picturing green eyes staring into mine as he thrust in deep, long pumps that matched this perfect tempo.
“Good fucking girl.”
His words rang on repeat inside my mind. It seemed degrading when I had read them in romance novels, but on his lips, they felt like a goad, pulling me into a heaven I had no idea even existed. They brought with them a strange sense of pride for being awarded with the title. Apparently, I yearned to be a good girl while being extremely naughty.
My fingers worked at a quicker speed each time he said them. My palm grazed my clit while my other hand pinched hard on my nipple. I couldn’t picture Liam as a gentle lover. I imagined all that anger trapped inside him being spilled into every primal or emotion-driven thing he did in life. It didn’t get more primal than sex.
Experience would be on his side, and I’d be all too willing to learn. But I tried not to imagine how many women he’d slept with already. The thought of his hands pleasing another was enough to twist my guts into something I could only guess was jealousy.
Fucked up much?
I paused those thoughts to chase after my release, focusing on the way Liam’s tongue dominated mine. On the taste of his kisses. On the pressure of his hard shaft rubbing against me.
Soon enough, my breath was caught in my throat in those stilled seconds before the ultimate explosion. My head fell back, the water spray hitting me straight in the face while white spots invaded my vision. A loud moan escaped my throat as pleasure soared through my body.
I was quaking in ecstasy, courtesy of the dirty picture Liam had painted and two prying fingers that I never imagined could feel so damn good.
All too quickly, the pleasure had worn off, making way for a heavy conscience. Masturbating to the image of my bully boss was less than ideal. It held a yarn of wrongfulness I couldn’t completely untangle even if I tried.
I finished the shower in automatic mode, my mind long lost to scenes of an embarrassing Monday morning, heightened by the memory of what I had just done. Flushed cheeks and inappropriate thoughts awaited me.
I curled into a fetal position in the middle of my bed, welcoming the cold breeze that cooled my still wet skin.
I had just masturbated to the thought of a stranger. To the thought of my boss. Whom I had only met today!
To add insult to injury, I felt jealous just imagining Liam with other women.
Jealous! Jea-lous!
How is that even possible?
Honesty was a damn trap, and acknowledging the rage and uneasiness that settled in my stomach at that thought didn’t suit my needs at the moment.
Best I focus on the version of him I had bumped into. On the version he had shown inside that conference room.
Thoughts of Liam touching me, kissing me, sending me above seventh heaven had to be permanently banned. He had messed me up so badly that I couldn’t even feel happy about getting my dream job. The duality of his actions, and mine at that, were nothing short of confusing.
Maybe this was all a game to try and get me to quit before I even started.
It won’t work, Smartass.
I needed to focus on making the best out of this incredible opportunity Mr. Dornier had given me. Focus on making my dream come true and not lose it over something that should never have happened. It could only come back to bite me on the ass.
Besides, I won’t do well as a trophy fuck.
Between today and Monday, I had the whole weekend to get him out from under my skin. I was starting a new life, one that didn’t – No! Scratch that – couldn’t, in any way, shape, or form, include Liam Dornier as anything but my boss.
Liam
Flashbacks of that interview had followed me through the weekend. Jamie Harden was a fresh and constant image I couldn’t seem to shake. One that, as of tomorrow, would step into my closest circle.
I wasn’t conscious of what that meant exactly. It was too easy for her to crawl under my skin. A part of me told me I should keep my distance while the other screamed for more of her.
She looked too familiar. Like a ghost from a recent past that I was trying hard to censor from every nightmare that dared to haunt me, night in and night out.
