Luka pulls my hips back and the new angle sends the tip of his cock straight to my G-spot, sending heady bursts of pleasure through me with each stroke. I feel like I’m unraveling even as I battle my blazing anger. I don’t know which sensation to hang onto.
“Harder, Luka. Harder.”
He slams into me again and again, pounding my body against the edge of the desk so hard I’ll probably have bruises. I don’t care. I need this. I want this. And I won’t be the only one to shatter. He will too, and all that power he thinks he has over me will become nothing for those intense, helpless moments when he’s lost in his release.
The releaseIgive him.
So who has the power now?
The thought sends me over the edge. I clamp tightly around him as I come, clenching my jaw as wave after wave bursts through me. Luka goes rigid, spearing into me with one last huge thrust before he spills inside of me.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters as he collapses over the desk.
I’m too weak to move. We’re both trying to catch our breath, but the anger inside me hasn’t lessened one bit. It quickly flames back to life as I ease out from under him and slowly right myself. Luka spins me to face him and then sinks down to grab my pants, pulling them up and over my hips.
“Get your shirt on and go home.”
My lower lip twitches. There’s so much I want to throw in his face, but I’m worn out. Tired. Weak. He’s fucked the fight right out of me. Just not the fire.
I’ll have to let it simmer until he gets home.
He almost looks surprised when I don’t respond. Righting his pants and shirt, he follows me around the desk as I retrieve my blouse and slip it over my head.
“Make sure you take the long way out through the offices so everyone who works here can see that I just fucked you.”
He’s trying to get a rise out of me. I head to the door, grip the knob in my hand.
“What?” he calls after me. “My wife actually has no response for once?”
I grin as I pull open the door, not bothering to lower my voice.
“I faked it,” I announce.
Then I slam the door in his face.
Brooklyn
Chapter 21
It might not be Maxilene, but the job I just landed ishuge—and definitely worth celebrating. So instead of throwing together my usual “healthy dinner for one” tonight, I ordered Thai delivery with two fat slices of coconut mango cake for dessert and set it all out on the table with candles and cloth napkins. Now I’m waiting for Luka to get home and share it all with me.
But the second he walks in the door, he’s nothing but grim and unsmiling.
My own smile falters. “What’s wrong? Did my theme park gig fall through?”
He scoffs. “I’m insulted at how excited you are about this, and honestly, you should be embarrassed.” Setting down his work bag, he shakes his head.
My jaw drops. I wish he were wearing a tie, because I’d love nothing more than to strangle him with it.
“Are you kidding? These ads are going to be plastered all over the country, increasing my visibility and pushing me that much closer to being a household name,” I tell him, my hands fisted in my lap. “A ‘congratulations’ would be nice.”
“Congratulations,” he says sarcastically. “What’s next, then? Top model for Burger Palace? Maybe they’ll let you dress up as a Kid’s Meal.”
I’m seething, out of my chair now, dinner forgotten. “What the hell is your problem? It’s Happyland! Family friendly, well paying, G-rated. I thought this is what you wanted for me!”
“Brooklyn, use your head! You’re my wife and you reflect on me, on the whole agency. Under what circumstances do you think I would ever consent to having the Zoric name attached to anamusement park franchise? Danica Rose Management is all about class, sophistication, sexiness. There is nothing sexy about Happyland. Their mascot is a deranged wombat.”
“It’s a quokka,” I correct him. “It’s known as the happiest animal on Earth.”
