Page 42 of Ruthless King (Mount Trilogy 1)
His thumb sweeps across my clit, and I’m done. The orgasm crashes through my body like a hurricane. Uncontrollable. Wild. Untamed.
I try to stifle my moan, but I can’t. I come apart, staring into the soulless black eyes of a man I hate, but one who plays my body like he’s been given an owner’s manual I didn’t know existed.
He presses harder against my clit, and I ride the storm for all it’s worth. I can’t help it. It’s too good not to wring every drop I can steal from it.
When he yanks the toy free, I’m not ready. My mouth drops open as he lifts it from beneath my skirt.
My first thought is so jacked up, I don’t even want to voice it.
Put it back. I want it back.
He holds the black-and-gold vibrator between us, coated in my slickness, and I’m forced to face my shame.
How can I let him do this to me?
“This should be covering my cock right now. But you have to earn that privilege.”
His infuriating words roar through me. Earn it? He should be so lucky.
Mount reaches for my hand and closes my fingers around the slippery toy. “This better be in your pussy when you’re delivered to me.”
He steps back, and I stumble away from the door. With one flip of the lock and a creak of the wood, Mount disappears, and I’m left holding a sex toy and have no idea what the hell just happened.
I legitimately think I could kill him with my bare hands. But I also want him more than I’ve ever wanted any man in my life.
It’s visceral. Primal. Uncontrollable.
Magnolia warned me, but I didn’t understand the full magnitude of that warning. Or maybe I didn’t understand how badly I need what he gives me.
Everything about this situation is fucked up beyond belief. I want to fight him to my last breath, but at the same time, I want to dig my nails into his back as he pounds into me until I scream in ecstasy.
My hand clenches around the toy, and I quiver at the thought of putting it back in.
Mount claims he owns my orgasms.
I’m starting to believe he’s right.
Keira
I don’t know why I even bother attempting to work for the rest of the day. I can’t concentrate on anything except the sex toy that I washed in my small connected private bathroom, wrapped in a paper towel, and shoved in my purse—after I spent nearly an hour removing the henna.
Five o’clock comes and goes, but I don’t leave the office. The longer I stay here, the longer I can put off following another one of his orders.
It’s after seven when someone knocks on my office door. My shoulders tense immediately, and I squeeze the edges of my desk.
It’s not him, I tell myself as I force my body to relax. Mount would never knock.
I call out for whoever it is to enter, and Temperance pokes her head in.
“I thought I saw your light still on. I figured after our victory today, you’d be out celebrating.”
Out celebrating. Something I no longer have the freedom to do . . . or do I?
“You know me, workaholic to the core.”
“That’s the truth. Which is why I brought the celebration to you.” She produces a bottle of champagne from behind her back.
I stare at the bottle in surprise. “I didn’t think you drank. You never try the whiskey.”
