Page 165 of Mario
His eyes darken.
"Tell me."
The command hits me like a fist.
I stand abruptly, because sitting has become impossible.
“Mr. Conti—”
“Don’t,” he says, “hide behind formalities."
He stands, too, his gaze turning predatory, his hands resting on the edge of his desk.
"Tell me what you dreamt."
I know he's playing a game, and I am about to lose.
I set the tablet on the chair because I no longer trust myself to hold it.
“That is wildly inappropriate.”
“Yes.”
He looks me up and down.
I fight the urge to cross my arms over my breasts.
Or rip my blouse off and let him have his way.
I'm not sure which at the moment.
"I-I originally told you about the dreams because I was trying to make a point," I manage. "I never intended to… to elaborate."
He tilts his head slightly. "Why not?"
"Because it's personal."
His mouth curves, and my knees threaten to buckle.
"More personal than what transpired between us one week ago?"
I open my mouth. Close it.
He pushes off his desk.
"More personal than being inside you and feeling you come on my cock?"
I gasp.
His expression is ruthless.
He walks around the desk but stops before he touches me.
I want him to touch me.
Desperately.
"Or having my mouth on you, your taste on my tongue, your legs around my neck, your cunt clenching around my fingers, Victoria? What could be more personal than those things?"
