“Trust me. He was one second away from asking if he could fuck your sweet pussy.” He turns me to face him, closing his handsaround my upper arms. “If you want him to, I’m sure it could be arranged.”
Wait. What?
“Why would I want—“
“Because you do.” Tony’s gaze is frank. “You weren’t embarrassed when he walked in. It excited you.”
“That’s not—“
“Don’t lie to me.” His fingers dig in. “If I had fucked you right in front of him, you would have loved it.”
I can’t breathe because he’s right.
The moment Adrian’s attention landed on me and found Tony’s hand between my thighs, I was so turned on I couldn’t think.
“Next time you bet more than you can afford,” Tony murmurs, “he might want to collect too.”
The way he says it—like Adrian getting his hands on me is a foregone conclusion. Like I’m a prize to be split. My entire body buzzes at the thought of being passed between them.
He releases me and walks around his desk before pausing.
“Shannon, tell me, do you want me to fuck you?”
Why is he asking me this now? Isn’t it obvious? He must be able to read the confusion on my face because he continues.
“I need to hear you say it. I don’t fuck unwilling women. You can walk out of here and nothing bad will happen. But you have to say what you want.”
My clit pulses, and I whisper, “I want you to fuck me. Use me however you want.”
Saying that out loud pings that place deep inside of me that wants to be taken and used without having to ask for it, but I also want to own this moment.
He smiles and opens his desk drawer. My eyes grow wide when he pulls out my panties from last time.
They’re dangling from his fingers. “Want these back?”
I like the idea of him having them, so I’m not sure what the correct answer is.
When I don’t reply, he moves back to me and kisses me hard. His tongue pushes into my mouth. His hands are everywhere, palming my ass, hiking up my dress.
He breaks off the kiss, and before I can even catch my breath, he grabs my chin hard, prying my lips apart. He dangles my week-old panties in front of my face, the fabric stiff from my juices soaking into them. I open my mouth wider, eager for it, andhe shoves them right in, stuffing the dirty panties deep into my mouth.
Lust hits me so hard my vision blurs, my pussy clenching with need. The taste explodes on my tongue—salty, musky tang from dried arousal.
God, I’ve got my nasty, used panties crammed in my mouth, gagging me with my own slutty flavor. This is way filthier than anything I’ve ever done, and it makes me so fucking wet.
He smirks down at me, his hand still gripping my chin. “Taste that, you little slut? That’s your greedy pussy all over those panties. Admit it—tell me how much of a desperate fucktoy you are for my cock.”
I mumble around the fabric, the words muffled but clear enough. “I’m such a slut for your cock. I need it so bad, like the fucktoy I am.”
He spins me around to face his desk and his voice is rough at my neck. “Can you taste my cum on them? I’ve been jerking off into them all week.”
When he says that, my mouth waters. Yeah, this is even filthier than I realized.
“Bend over.”
This is exactly what I came for. I rest my palms flat on the polished wood and as I lean forward, he pushes my shoulderdown. I turn my head, resting my cheek on the surface. The Seattle skyline is through the window, and I suddenly get the insane thought that if someone was using a telescope to look into the office, they’d be getting quite the show.
He bunches my dress at my waist and yanks my panties to my knees. I try to hold steady in my heels and realize that could get dangerous. I kick them off, while behind me I hear his belt buckle. The metal clink. Then the rasp of his zipper. Each sound louder than it should be.
