Page 17 of Bastard In A Suit

I can’t believe I just asked for this.

I’m being tied up by Duke Kingston instead of sitting at the table and pitching my product to him.

This is insane.

The vulnerability of being tied up like this should make me uncomfortable. It doesn’t. My heart skips with anticipation.

He pulls tight on the rope around my wrists. It’s rough, industrial, and has already begun to scratch at my skin.

“Don’t move,” he says.

His hands, now free, skim the side of my hips.

I arch my back, giving in to his touch. He traces the V of my cleavage and then slides one finger under each side of the dress. When his thumbs graze the tips of my hard nipples, I suck in a sharp gasp. Sweet Jesus, I’m melting.

He expertly moves my dress aside to expose my full breasts, and cups them in his hands. His head dips toward me. When his tongue flicks across my skin, I let out a heavy sigh. I pull toward him, wanting more. I’m hot, ready to catch fire.

Duke takes one nipple between his lips and begins to suck. My pussy clenches. I writhe under the pressure and cry out when his teeth scrape at my flesh. He bites harder. Sucks. Takes another bite.

“More,” I whimper.

Duke slides his hand up and under my dress and hooks his fingers around the waistband of my panties. With one tug, he tears them off, leaving me exposed and wet. Holy shit, I’m wet.

The rope rubs against my wrists and I’m sure there will be a mark, but I don’t want him to stop.

His hand hovers dangerously close to my pussy. I thrust toward him. The first swipe of his finger along my slit makes me cry out.

It’s barely a whisper, but it’s enough.

My orgasm builds even before he finally touches my clit. I feel a surge and then it crashes over me, sending ripples of pleasure up through my spine. I turn my head away from him and a deep moan erupts from inside my chest.

Holy. Shit.

And that’s when it hits me— a rush of humiliation and shame that bears down on me like a freight train.

Duke quickly yanks on the rope to untie me, his eyes never leaving mine, mouth glistening. I rub at my wrists and avert my gaze to the floor where my torn panties lay at my feet. I adjust my dress and crouch to retrieve my underwear, a whirl of emotion churning in my unsettled stomach.

“I’ll meet you out front,” he says.

The lack of tenderness in his voice guts me. After a moment of trying to compose myself, I follow him out of the storage room. After what just happened, I can’t imagine finishing our meal, and I’m trying to work up an excuse when I realize I won’t have to. Duke has already paid for dinner and is escorting me out to the waiting limousine.

“Mr. Kingston, I—”

He shakes his head as if to silence me. I climb into the car and he closes the door. I’m alone, confused. My chest heaves with unspent tears.

I stare out the window at the front of the restaurant door as the car pulls away from the curb.

Duke is already gone.

My phone buzzes another text.

I can’t bear the thought of checking it—I have no words, no excuses, to offer Forest or Jake. I’ve blown it. Without even realizing what was happening, I fucked up our second chance. They will never forgive me.

How will I ever forgive myself?

I take out my phone with a sigh. But when I look at the screen, my stomach does a small flip. The text isn’t from my business partners at all—it’s from Duke.

I’m interested. Bring your partners to my offices tomorrow. 8 a.m. sharp.