by Paige North
“Just admit that you don’t hate me as much as you’re pretending, Remi,” he whispers.
My name. He called me by my name that night, too.
This is the man I remember… The one who could talk me into bed with a dark, charming smile. The one who had me so in his thrall that I thought I’d never find my way out of it.
But I’m not going to get tangled back into it now. “Hate. Yeah, I do hate you. I hate what you’re doing to this company.”
He comes closer, and my knees wobble. I’m beating hard and fast for him, drenched so thoroughly that my inner thighs are bathed with my cream.
His gaze lingers on my skirt again, and he smiles wolfishly, looming over me now.
“I can smell your arousal,” he says. “You’re so hot for me that you can’t hide it.”
Fuck. Oh, fuck.
He lavishes my chest with his gaze. “And look at those nipples. It’s as if you’re remembering what my fingers and mouth did to them.”
Now I feel waves of heat coming off of him. I smell the soap on his skin. I’m losing my grip, and I tighten my fists to try and regain it.
He smiles bitterly. “I bet you would beg for me to fuck you again like I did that first night we spent together.”
One last chance to save myself. “How about you go fuck yourself? Seems like a match made in heaven.”
He laughs softly, cuttingly. His gaze is all fire now. “That’s what I thought.”
Before I can summon enough breath to tell him to fuck off again, he aggressively slips his hand to the back of my head and dips down to catch my mouth with his, sending me into an explosive oblivion.
Chapter 4
As Jet bruises my lips with his, a shockingly erotic darkness swallows me up, freezing my body and mind in place. But somewhere inside of me is an urgent whisper.
Don’t let this happen, Remi… You know better… Remember how he didn’t answer your phone calls when you were pregnant and he ignored you…?
Yes, my brain is telling my hands to push him away, but I can’t. Not when his lips are hot and insistent on mine and his fingers are savagely gripping my hair. Not when a low moan is building inside me and lava is gushing through me and something brutal is clenching in my belly… Dear God, the longer he kisses me, the longer I balance on this exciting, pulsating edge. I can’t push him away because he’s right—my need for him is too strong, too overpowering, and as I fight a cry for him to give me more, more, more I know I’m losing the battle.
He suspends the kiss, his mouth still against mine, and I pant and arch toward him. As I bump up against his hard cock, my knees wobble, and I almost fall down, but he holds me firm. He laughs softly against my mouth as if he knows he’s already won. Then he slowly runs his tongue between my lips, teasing me. Meanwhile, his strong, capable hands sweep down to my hips. God, I remember just how capable and assured those hands were on the night we were together, and I grip his wrists, but not because I want to shove him away—I’m digging my nails into his skin because I’m afraid of what happens next. I want it more than anything. I ache for it so bad in my swollen, pounding clit that I think I might die.
“That’s the girl I remember,” he says against my mouth. “She couldn’t wait to feel my cock in her tight little pussy.” As he eases his hands up my waist to cup my breasts, a tiny, desperate sound escapes from my mouth into his. “That’s it, baby. Tell me how much you want my cock in you now.”
I’m not going to surrender and tell him anything, even as he circles his thumbs around my nipples. I move my hands up his arms, feeling his rocked muscles under his suit jacket. I remember what he looked like with every piece of clothing off of him, his body hard all over, ridged, golden, a perfect animal. My pussy beats in time to my crazed heart, each pulse a booming splash.
“I can tell you’re so fucking ready for me,” he whispers.
He flicks his thumbs over my aroused nipples, and I suck in a breath. Then it comes out as another agonized moan as he travels one of his hands down over my stomach, my belly, to my skirt. He lifts it slightly as if he intends to peek under it, but I stop him by clamping my hand on his.
“Let me see what you’ve got under this,” he says against my mouth. “Let me see how soaked you are.”
Lust jerks inside me. He sounds tortured, and my clit thunders along with every push of searing blood through my veins. I tighten my hold on his hand, but when he starts to lift my schoolgirl skirt again, I don’t stop him. As he exposes me, he tilts his dark head just enough to get a look. I suppress a groan, because his gaze is ferocious, hungry, feral in its appetite, and I imagine what he’s seeing: my pink silk panties drenched, my thighs damp.
My legs give out, and I slump back into that folding chair. He coolly comes to his knees in front of me, and the intense look in his eyes frightens and excites me. I don’t know whether he’s going to devour my pussy or pet me there. I’m willing to take either one…or, yes, both. Please both…
He looks into my eyes, shaking me through and through, then reaches out and tangles the fingers of one hand in my hair. He tilts my head back slightly, almost as if he wants me to beg, and I will if he doesn’t do something to me within the next clit-pounding second. I would beg and plead and let go of my dignity if he would just fuck me now.
I think he sees what I want, what I need, and he smiles like a beast.
He brings me toward him, sweeping me into another cruel kiss, plundering my mouth with his tongue, going so deep that I melt against him. As he slowly ravishes me, he plays with one of my nipples, just as if he owns me and can take me anytime he wants to. And he can. Shit, he can and I hate it just as much as I love it.
He runs his knuckles under the swell of my breast, and I suck in air between my teeth.
As he confidently unbuttons my cardigan with one hand, I go boneless, sliding back in that chair. My legs spread apart, my skirt gathering at my upper thighs, my pussy throbbing with wet pulses. I’m his for the taking, but he obviously wants to take something else first, and after he parts my sweater, then undoes the front clasp of my pink bra, I battle another shaky moan. But it’s useless to fight, because as my breasts pop free, I wiggle in that chair, revealing just how much I’m getting off on how he looks at me, how he wants me.
He leans down to lick one of my nipples, and I surge up in my seat. He laughs low in his throat.
“It’s so easy to get you going,” he murmurs. Then his voice goes dark. “So easy to get me going.”
It almost sounds as if he hates himself for that last part, and his stubbled jaw clenches. As he looks into me again with those all-knowing eyes, his fingers tighten in my hair and his gaze blazes a bright, dangerous blue. I press my legs together, but he slips his other hand between my knees, and it’s as if lightning has struck my clit.
As he eases his fingers up my inner thighs, urging them wider as he goes, I ache so badly that I want to scream already. It’s like I’m a bundle of electric nerves everywhere, burning, sizzling, sparking, and the sparks are needling my clit. I don’t know how much more I can take before I make a fool out of myself and cry out for him to just fuck me, please, now, just fuck me…
Right before his fingers get to my pussy, he pauses, and I close my eyes and lean back my head, breathless, anticipating, dying a little for him to just go on. I think he’s watching me with those intense eyes, but if I look, I’ll lose it. I’ll lose this little power play he’s putting on me, and that can’t happen.
Jet Bishop isn’t going to win, even though a part of me wants him to.
I feel him take his other hand from my hair, then inch that one under my skirt, too. I hold my breath, not knowing what comes next, and when I feel him tug at my panties, then slide them down my legs and over my boots, I wince and bite my lip. I’m humming all over now, just like wires hum before a surge, and after he gets my panties off and pushes my thighs apart again, I finally open my eyes to see his gaze fixed on my pussy.
My first instinct is to close my
legs again in a strange sort of modesty. But he’s seen it all before. He knows that I trim myself down there and that I’m not some rich girl who has the money or time to get waxed. But as I realize that he’s riveted by how I look, I separate my legs more, feeling my wet lips open. I show him everything, loving this power I have over him.
“Goddammit, Remi,” he whispers.
Then he raises his wicked gaze to mine, and the moment our eyes connect, I cream for him some more.
“When did you get so wet for me?” he asks in a gritty voice. He slips his hands up the front of my thighs. “Was it this morning when you first heard that I bought the company?”
I shake my head. I’ve been wet for him since I met him, but I’m not going to let him know that.
He skims his fingers until they’re inches from my sweet spot. Oxygen snags in my lungs as I wait. Then wait again. Just as I’m about to tell him to go to hell, he reaches down and runs a finger through my folds. I move with him, holding back a groan.
He doesn’t do it again.
“Was it when you first saw me in the hallway?” he asks.
All I can do is shake my head another time, as if I’m resisting him and not sitting here gripping the edges of the chair and wishing he would stroke me once more.
“Stubborn,” he whispers.
Then he slides his finger through my slit again, and thank God, he doesn’t stop—he rubs me back and forth, watching me the whole time to see when I’ll finally break. I’m getting there, closer, closer…
“Did you get this juiced for me when I called you into this office?” he asks.
Before I can respond, he pushes his finger up and into me, and I wince in pure ecstasy while rising out of the chair. Then he starts to finger fuck me, pumping in, out, swirling around, and I try not to give in to the rising pressure in my belly, the beating, bashing rhythm of my coming orgasm. I can hear how slick and ready I am with every stroke.
“I’ll bet the mere sound of my name got you going,” he whispers roughly as he keeps banging me.
I can’t answer. I’m too busy wrestling back the tight knot that’s about to pop loose in a big way inside of me, and he seems to take my silence as a challenge. He thrusts another finger into me, and I cry out a little. He works me harder, faster until I begin to slip down the chair. I brace one of my booted feet against his thigh, but he keeps going, faster, harder, wetter, and I’m getting so close, so coiled, so… Oh, shit, I’m going to come. Please, don’t let me come in front of him…
Then, just as I’m about to burst open, he withdraws his fingers from me, leaving me hanging and gripping that chair on the edge of a building scream. I open my eyes to see him standing, looming above me with a famished look on his face. His pale eyes pierce me.
“Now beg me. Beg me to fuck you and I’ll do it, baby. I’ll do it better than before.”
With my legs spread and my body slumped and my hands still clenching the chair, I shake my head yet again. Fuck him. Fuck him a million times over before I let him fuck me.
His gaze goes dark. “Admit you want me.”
I rebelliously press my lips together, and that seems to break something inside of him. His gaze explodes with tormented yearning as he suddenly bends down and scoops me into his thick arms. The world spins around me, and the next thing I know, he’s deposited me on his glass desk. I’m breathless, perched on the edge, and I start to back-crawl away from him, but he pulls me toward him and ruthlessly bends down, sucking my breast into his mouth. I squirm in pure need and pull at his hair and, with every pussy-tingling draw on my nipple and every erotic nip, it’s as if he’s tugging apart that knot in my belly. I mewl, I start to lose it all over again with every pummeling beat of my pulse. And when he reaches under my skirt to rub my pussy, the heel of his palm presses against my clit, grinding against me until light flashes on the backs of my eyelids.
I’m right back at the brink.
I’m going to come.
Unable to fight this anymore, I collapse back onto the desk. Through my desperate haze, I hear my own voice. “Yes! Please!”
“Please what?” he growls, massaging my clit until I’m violently writhing.
“Please fuck me, Jet. Please!”
He lets go of me, and as I pant and squirm and wait for him to come back, I hear the rustle of material, the sound of a zipper, the crinkle of packaging. A rubber, I think. And, just as my clit starts aching so badly that I want to weep for him to hurry the fuck up, he grips my hips and drags me back to him, plunging his enormous, hard cock into me and making me arch my hips at the pure ecstasy of being filled up by him again.
As my consciousness flickers on and off, he scoops one arm under me and whips me upward so that we’re face to face. Then he fucks me until I’m on the border of insanity, driving in and out of my pussy as he urges me to ride his cock in a frenzied rhythm. He rams deeply into me, so deep that he hits every incredible memory of that first night we had together: how he made me throb and pound and ache and need… Oh, fuck, every memory builds on top of the next, rising, wobbling, surging. At the same time, I hear my bare skin sliding against the glass desk, hear the dirty, primal sounds we’re both making as his cock slides in and out, bathed by all my slippery juices. We shouldn’t be doing this—my new boss, his new office—but the seediness and the wrongness only intensifies everything. It only makes me hotter as I look into his eyes and he looks into mine.
But this is more than hot—there’s a wire connecting us that runs deep and deeper, something I don’t understand, and I don’t think he does either, because it’s as if he’s trying to fuck it away. But I forget about that as my eyes roll back into my head and I spiral into a place beyond rational thought, a place where only lust and need and desire exist, a place where he possesses me and I possess him beyond anything I ever imagined. It’s dark here, scary and exciting with all the thunder and lightning and wind batting around inside me, a storm that’s about to—
He curses as he comes, and I respond with just as much reeling force as I do, too. I dig my nails into the material of his suit, pulling at him, then finally pitching forward and biting into his shoulder to stifle my orgasmic scream. He holds me tight as he starts to descend from his own high, and after our breathing evens out, I cling right back to him, thinking that, surely, everything is different now. We’ve shattered the barrier between us.
We’re the same people who spent that one night together that gave us a child...
Then, just as warmth is beginning to suffuse my chest, he withdraws, pulling down my skirt and brusquely closing my gaping sweater before he turns his back and cleans himself up.
What?
But do I really have to ask? Clearly Jet is back to being a bastard, and I slowly sit up, then button my cardigan. I’m a sopping mess on his desk, and he acknowledges that when he grabs a box of tissues gives it to me. Otherwise, he’s as cool as he was before.
Mortified, I slip off the desk and clean myself up. Anger is simmering inside me again, reminding me of how disposable I still am to him.
I finish quickly, then put on my panties over my boots. I look at him one more time, because yeah, I’m stupid enough to think that I might be wrong about what a dick he is.
But he’s still not looking at me.
I believe I’ve been dismissed.
Well, screw him to hell. I start to walk toward then door, then, in a fit of rage, round back on him. “Do I still have a job here?”
He’s smoothing down his jacket, getting back into impeccable prick mode. It looks as if he’s about to bark out an answer to my question, but then he merely stuffs his hands into his trouser pockets. “I need to think about it.”
Oh, think about it, huh?
But I’m too exhausted for words, not only because he just fucked me silly, but because it’s been a long, emotional day. I don’t even know what to say to him, so I take the easy route.
“You’re a real asshole, you know that?”
Then I turn around
and bust out the door, leaving him in my wake this time.
THE END OF PART ONE
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