Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
"You want to fuck. Show me how much you want to. Let’s see if I still enjoy your company."
She starts moving towards me slowly, a look of complete disbelief etched into her features. "You want me to prove myself to you?"
"Exactly. Show me you’re worth all this money I’m paying out."
Her eyes widen. "You’re joking."
"I was never more serious in my life. You can’t be the only one reaping all the benefits. Why don’t you put yourself to work and try to convince me that you’re worth the headache you come with?"
She reaches me and I feel a small flare of satisfaction. Her eyes are guarded, but I can see that she is visibly startled and understands now she holds no power over me. Slowly, her gaze begins to travel down my body, lingering on my hard cock.
I spread my legs even wider, giving her a full view.
"Say something," she urges in a small whisper.
But I shake my head slowly. I hold all the power in this relationship and it’s about time she realizes it.
Chapter Thirty-Two
LARA
Okay, I’m a lifelong feminist. I started at six years old when I boxed Jason Appleby in the ear when he told me girls can’t be astronauts, so the man sitting in front of me should be enemy number one, but to my horror, he’s not. I’m not the least bit turned off by his declaration that he’s bought me at all. In fact, his caveman attitude and the thought of being his sex toy tempts me and fills me with a strange and crazy excitement.
It feels more like a challenge. He wants me to give him his money’s worth. Sure. I’ll show him how hot and heavy I can get. This is the most illicit relationship of my life, so why not? Why the hell not?
“All right. Let’s go to bed then,” I say and begin walking towards the entrance, but there is no movement behind me. He isn’t following me. When I turn back, even the mocking smile has vanished from his face. He is dead serious about doing it here. I literally have to give him his money’s worth.
"I’m a real estate agent, not a hooker," I tell him.
His response comes as quickly and brutally as a slap. "And I’m a businessman, not a bank. But you’ve managed to make me one to fit your needs, so I suggest you adjust to mine now or call it quits."
I look at the contract and shake my head. "I can just leave," I say. "You said it yourself—you’re not holding me hostage here. Doing that would be kidnapping."
He crosses his arms, his face smug. "Go ahead. I’m not stopping you."
Smug bastard. I know he’s pushing me, daring me. I glance back at the door. "Muriel might come in at any moment," I say, searching for an excuse.
"I don’t hire stupid people," he replies callously.
That’s that excuse gone. I bite my bottom lip. My heart races as I’m still torn between the instinct to retreat and the inexplicable pull of his magnetic eyes. His gaze is fixed on mine, unwavering and full of that same intensity that always makes me feel exposed like he can see right through me. Every breath feels heavy, every second longer than the last as the air between us grows thick with tension. He’s watching, waiting for my next move.
I walk towards him, all the while holding his gaze. Lowering myself to my knees, I place my hands on his thighs. His eyebrows raise slightly as I silently begin to unbuckle his belt.
My hands tremble slightly, and to hide this, I try to move faster. I have my hand on his zipper, ready to pull it down. I glance up at his face then. His face is deliberately expressionless, and I cannot tell what he is thinking.
I realize I want to surprise him.
For once, I want to see him not be in complete control of everything—of his emotions, of his mood, of his desire. I want to see him under my control, even if it’s just for a moment. The zipper comes down easily, revealing dark briefs and the hard bulge beneath them. I pause, feeling the tension between us.
"Can you help?" I ask, my voice low.
It takes him a moment to react, his eyes narrowing as he studies me. “Intimidated?”
“A bit,” I confess. “We are strangers, after all.”
He holds my gaze for a moment before reaching into his briefs and pulling his cock out. "We’re strangers?" he repeats, his voice low. "We’re not strangers after last night. I know what you taste like—every aspect of you. Your skin, your tongue, your pussy."
I cannot stop the hot heat rushing up my neck and into my cheeks. Trying to hide it I bend my head and my attention is immediately caught by his cock. I knew it was huge; after all, I felt every bit of it the previous night. But seeing it now, in broad daylight, is an entirely different experience.