A soft cry escapes my lips as fingers thread through my hair and yank me hard against a firm chest and… arigidcock.
It takes all my willpower not to push back against it.
Tugging my face up by my strands until I’m held hostage by stormy eyes that could eat me alive, Nathan turns the tables on me.
“Painting me that picture isn’t the brag that you think it is, little minx,” he grunts, dipping his head so our lips are inches away. “Do you know why you have to use your fingers to get yourself off in the middle of the night? Because your limp-dicked ex never satisfied you. Or the ones before him. When a man fucks you good, you pass out in pleasure. You only wake up when he’s inside you and ready to do it all over again.”
My panties become soaked in a flash. However, I still hold on to my last shred of pride.
“You’re not going to be that man,” I hiss, my heart racing a mile a minute.
His mouth brushes mine. “Who says I want to be?”
“This-” I push my hips in a slow thrust against his thick erection. “-does.”
“About as truthful as your dripping slit.” The hand tangled in my hair shifts to the front of my throat, caressing my skyrocketing pulse. “I can smell your wet pussy, Ari.”
The denial is on the tip of my tongue when a loud knock startles me. I flick a panicked glance to the doorknob, waiting for it to turn and the person to step in on our precarious position.
Nathan’s domineering grip doesn’t ease, content on collaring my throat.
A second knock echoes, followed by Erika’s voice. “Sir?”
I grab Nathan’s wrist, futilely trying to unwrap his fingers. I suck in a sharp breath as he lets go. Except my relief lasts for a nanosecond before I’m twirled around and forced to stand in front of him. Disoriented, I make the mistake of looking down and noticing the proof of what I did to him.
My eyes widen at the menacing bulge he’s sporting. He’s so hard and massive that I can make out the shape of the wide crown of his cock behind his zipper.
Why do I have the insane urge to kneel at his feet?
Spooked by the desire, I move back. Hooking a finger in the waistband of my loose, silk skirt, he brings me back to use my body as a shield.
“Come in,” he calls to his assistant, while holding on to me.
I snap my gaze to his indifferent one, trying to decipher his intentions.
Erika’s heels click on the floor as she steps inside. “Mr. Singhania. Do you need me to reschedule the meeting? Everyone is waiting for you in the conference room.”
Say no.
Say no.
Say no.
I’m at my wits’ end and don’t trust myself to make rational decisions right now. I’m falling into his seductive trap all over again. My body doesn’t seem to give a flying fuck that he’s a smug and conniving man.
“No,” Nathan replies, grazing my stomach with his knuckle. “I’m almost done with Miss Chopra. Tell them to wait for a few minutes.”
“Okay, will do.” The door shuts behind her a second later.
I slap his hand and shove away from him. “What was that?”
“Saving us from another scandal where I’m accused of fucking my publicist.”
“You can’t manhandle and touch me as you please, Nathan.”
“It wasn’t me grinding against my cock.”
My blush deepens with a vengeance. I can’t argue with that because I’m guilty, so I settle for a glare.
