Page 85 of Sinful Empire (Mount Trilogy 3)
He grips his cock with one hand, her ass with the other, and lines up the head with her entrance. “Pussy first. You’re not ready for me yet.”
The pace of my breathing nears hyperventilation.
I need to do something. I have to—
Any capacity for rational or irrational thought is ripped from my brain as he buries his cock inside her and her scream fills my ears. He pounds into her over and over, and I hate her. I hate that she’s receiving his perfectly rough thrusts that rip moans of ecstasy from her throat, and all I have is the clenching emptiness between my legs.
I want that. I need that. It’s been way too long since I felt . . . anything like this. Actually, I’ve never felt anything remotely like this.
This dark edge of pleasure is something I’ve only read about. Wished for. Dreamed about.
Her moans and cries increase, and he praises her. I close my eyes, letting his words wash over me, and pretend he’s whispering them to me.
My fingers edge toward the hem of my skirt and I draw it up inch by inch. I need more. Just a little—
“My naughty secretary should know better than to touch herself during work hours.” The deep, rasping words come out of the shadows and brush over my skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake.
Shock freezes my movements, my fingertips locked on the material of my skirt, as a chair creaks and the disembodied voice takes the shape of a tall, broad-shouldered man stepping into the dim pool of light.
A black leather mask obscures the top half of his face, but his piercing silver-blue eyes burn hotter than a five-alarm fire. They sear my skin everywhere they touch.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself, Ms. Smith?” His sculpted lips are perfect—except for the fact that they called me by the wrong name.
“Umm. Uhh.” I stammer as I attempt to find words that could possibly apply to this insane situation. “I-I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong—”
His eyes narrow, but the heat remains intact.
“Nobody argues with me in my office. Strike two, Ms. Smith.”
“But I’m here for—” I make another attempt to explain his mistake, but he cuts me off with a tilt of his head.
“Whatever I want.” He emphasizes each word as he takes another step toward me. “And tonight, what I want is you.”
My teeth dig into my bottom lip as he slides his suit jacket off his shoulder and down one arm before repeating the motion with the other. His movements reveal a crisp white shirt perfectly tailored to broad shoulders, thick biceps, and a narrow waist.
Holy wow. He’s sex in a suit.
“If you’re still in this office in ten seconds, I’ll take that to mean yes, sir, I’m ready.”
I glance at the door and back at him as he begins the countdown.
“Ten . . .”
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Preview of Dirty Billionaire
Holly
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Country Star JC Hughes Caught Between a Cock and a Hard Place
How is he going to explain this one away to girlfriend Holly Wix and his fans?
“That two-timin’ son of a . . .”
I hiss under my breath as I stare at the headline—and the compromising picture accompanying it—splashed in vivid color across the front page of the gossip rag displayed prominently in the checkout line at my supermarket. For the second time in two months, it’s a picture of my “boyfriend” locked in an unmistakably passionate embrace with another woman, except this time she’s wearing a giant black strap-on.
