“Really, Rêve de Mode is too extravagant.”
“Part of your signing bonus, as I recall.”
“But I can shop somewhere else. The Galleria has some nice stores. There’s no need to spend so much on clothes.”
I appreciate that she’s looking out for my bottom line. But there’s no way I’ll let her shop anywhere else. Amelia will ensure Seraphina is properly taken care of, even if she objects. “Stop wasting my time with arguments. I need you at your desk.” The one I can’t wait to have you bent over.
“What’s my budget?”
“Amelia will let you know.” When she scowls, I add, “She’s the proprietress.”
“You buy so many women clothing that you’re on a first-name basis with the person who owns one of the most exclusive boutiques in the city?”
Raising one brow, I regard her. You’re the last woman I’ll ever spoil.
After a small hesitation, Seraphina turns, her sneakers a little squeaky on the marble as she heads for the elevator.
Like a man possessed, I watch her go, the sway of her hips searing into my brain.
The door closes, and I’m alone, my office too quiet, her scent lingering.
Finally, after far too long, I shake myself from my sexual reverie and call Amelia, outlining my expectations. Then I text Hargrove to tell him that the contract is official and to send someone to pick up the document. All that handled, I grab another cup of godawful coffee.
Time drags while she’s gone, each minute a slow burn. I try to focus on emails, on the Lockhart merger files piling up on my desk, but my mind keeps sliding back to her.
Thinking of my handprint on her creamy skin, I shift in my chair, my cock still half-hard, and curse under my breath. She’s a liability. Celeste warned me, and she’s right—but not for the reasons she thinks. Seraphina’s dangerous because she’s under my skin, and I’m not sure I want it any other way.
Frustrated as fuck with myself, with her, I stride to my bathroom, slam the bathroom door shut and twist the lock until it clicks into place. The silence echoes, broken only by the low hum of the ventilation fan. I brace my palms on the edge of the marble vanity, veins tight under my skin.
Goddamn her.
The contract should’ve calmed me. Binding her to me, on paper at least, should’ve been enough to cool the fire in my gut. But she’s shopping right now, choosing blouses she’ll button up just so I can imagine ripping them open. Picking out skirts that will hug her hips, tight enough I’ll see every curve I paid to own.
My reflection stares back—hair disheveled, pupils blown wide, tie crooked, my cock throbbing against the inside of my slacks. I’m a fucking mess, and it’s all Seraphina’s fault.
I reach down, tug my belt free. The faint snap of leather makes my skin prickle. I drag the zipper down, the sound too loud in the hush of the bathroom. The second my cock’s free, I curl my fist around the base, exhaling a low, ragged curse.
I’m already leaking, and I smear precum over the head. The slick slide makes me suck in a sharp breath.
Jaw locked, I tighten my grip. No one to witness this. No one but me. Just the fantasy of her.
I pump, slow at first, a long, dragging stroke that makes my thighs tense. I picture her bent over my lap, the dress she’s purchasing right now bunched around her waist, one of my hands buried in her hair while my other palm lands hard on her perfect ass. Her whimpers echo in my skull, sharper than the hiss of breath I bite back now.
Good girl.
Then I move her to my knees and watch her pink tongue tracing the thick vein that pulses for her, her eyes wide and innocent while she chokes on my cock.
I’m deep, and her gag is muffled.
When she looks up helplessly, her cornflower-blue eyes glassy, tears slipping down her flushed cheeks, I’ll celebrate that it’s all for me.
My hips jerk forward into my hand, the slick slide obscene, my pulse roaring in my ears. The muscles in my stomach clench tight. I let the animalistic sounds emerge, a low growl in my chest, a ragged curse as I imagine her legs trembling, her breathless moans vibrating around me while she swallows every drop I give her.
My fingers squeeze tighter, punishingly.
She deserves it for doing this to me. For haunting me every tortuous moment she’s gone. My other hand slams into the wall for balance, knuckles whitening as the heat builds, cresting too fast to stop.
“Fuck—” The word tears out of me, low and savage. My release hits hard, pleasure searing through my spine as I spill over my fist, my breath ragged.
