Page 38 of Claimed By the Ruthless King

A mischievous smile crawls onto his face as he stares me dead in the eye and says: “You’ll finish when I want you to.”

Unfortunately, his voice, along with his hard, contracting shoulders, only pushes me closer to the edge. Desire removes my ability to speak, or even think for that matter. My orgasm and the handsome man standing in front of me are the only two things that matter. The rest of the world can fuck right off; my judgmental co-workers, even the Crows. Nothing can come between me and my feelings, and very profound ones are shifting inside of me right now as I stare into Salvatore Moretti’s haunting eyes, breaking laws, boundaries; breaking myself, all to feel something real.

Since Mr. Moretti won’t finish me off, I touch myself.

I find my clit, rubbing, craving punishment for breaking his rules.

I want to be disciplined, to know how it feels to be put in my place. Lots of men are always rushing to do that, especially in this industry, but only one can put me in my place.

“What do you think you’re doing?” says Salvatore, taking a step back, his gaze wandering between my legs as I rub my pussy.

“Take your hands away, Miss Bennett.”

That would be like asking the ocean to change tides. Some things are too powerful.

My vision edges away, Mr. Moretti’s face becomes a blur as my arousal reaches its peak. A sweet burning sensation rushes through my body, landing in my core, where my orgasm is budding.

“Miss Bennett⁠—”

“I can’t.”

Salvatore swoops in, tearing my hand away. Flashing me a look, he grabs my wrists, pinning my arms above my head.

I gasp, my mouth gaping open as my vision returns. The man is heartbreakingly beautiful, everything I need, and yet everything I will never be able to have.

Salvatore is short-term fun. His inability to tell me the truth reinforces the fact that this man cannot be trusted, and trust is the foundation of every relationship.

Of course, what do I know about relationships? What does he?

This dude has had more affairs than properties, which says a lot.

Me on the other hand? I never stick around after sex with a man. Will I ever get over this man? Giving your body to the devil is a recipe for disaster, but temptation is far too sweet.

“Keep your hands there,” instructs Mr. Moretti, taking a step back.

He shoves his pants down to his knees, boxer shorts following. His cock, laying thick against his toned stomach, twitches as he takes in my partly naked form, eyes drifting between my legs.

“Actually,” says Mr. Moretti. “I changed my mind. Come and stand next to me, facing the mirror.”

Oh no he doesn’t…

My legs move on their own accord, heels scraping the ground as I obey my master.

I stare at my reflection, comparing our sizes. Mr. Moretti stands over a foot taller than me, and I’m wearing heels.

“Look who is dripping wet for their boss,” he says, swiping his finger through my pussy folds, opening them in demonstration, encouraging me to watch. “Take a look at yourself, Miss Bennett. Don’t be shy. There’s no need to be ashamed of your body.” He finds my gaze in the mirror. “I suppose there’s an element of shame, doing something you probably shouldn’t, showing your pussy to your boss even though he’s bad news.”

“I never said⁠—”

“But you have been thinking it, haven’t you, sweetheart? Why else would you be logging into my computer, highlighting web addresses and snooping around in the male bathroom when you know for a fact only four people have access to this room? Whatever is going on in that complicated head of yours is your own business, but you’re defying yourself, getting yourself in trouble, getting wet.” Mr. Moretti unravels my folds, encouraging me to look between my legs. “Look how much you want your boss,” he says. “You’d be a fool to keep snooping around, going above your paygrade. You will learn to behave, or this will be the last time I ever touch your pussy. Understood?”

Is that a threat?

“Miss Bennett?” he says, his voice booming through the restroom. “I asked you a question. Answer it.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” he says, shuffling toward me, curling his hands around his cock. “Stand over there.”