Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
I look down at my feet. “I mean, are you going to take my picture?”
“No, angel, I won’t.”
I stiffen. Nobody calls me angel. “Just Angie.”
“You keep calling me Mr. Maguire. Whenever you’re ready, angel.”
Asshole. I look up again, dizzy with excitement and nervous energy, and it’s now or never. I have to make a call. Get up, run away, maybe always regret never having a shot at being with a man like Big Boss—
I reach down and tug my sweater over my head.
One smooth motion. I toss it aside, trembling with nerves.
Connor watches from across the room, rapt. His attention is intoxicating. I unbutton my slacks, kick off my shoes, and lift my hips. Slowly, I take my pants off.
And show him the purple panties.
“Fuck,” he whispers, his mouth open.
I can’t stop the smile. Yeah, sometimes life works out. I don’t normally wear the sexy stuff to work but I forgot to do laundry.
“Your lucky day.”
“You have no idea, angel.” His voice is laced with desperate want. It’s incredible, hearing a man like him talk like that.
Like I’m worth wanting. Like he’s going to collapse if he doesn’t see more of me.
Boring, good-girl Angie.
His angel.
Confidence floods me. I’ve never felt this way in my life, not a single time. I’m a nothing girl from nowhere New York, an anonymous nobody with a two-year degree and a dim future. I should never, ever command the attention of a man like Connor Maguire.
Except he’s almost shaking as I continue to strip.
Arousal burns into my core. I’m so wet I bet he can smell it. That should mortify me, but it doesn’t. Instead, I let my hair down, shaking it out like in the photo, pretending like I’m back in my room and preparing to get naked for another series of pics. I slip off my undershirt and unhook my bra. Connor’s mouth falls open and he stands as still as a statue.
“It’s okay, Mr. Maguire,” I whisper, not even sure where my voice is coming from, how I’m saying anything at all right now when I’m this afraid, but it’s like I’m buzzing with new energy, like I’m someone else. “You can come closer.”
He lets out the most erotic, sexy groan I’ve ever heard.
I sit on the edge of the couch. My clothes are tossed around me. I look at him and slowly spread my knees open, showing my purple panties, and press my tits together like in the photo. The pose is simple, one I’ve done a billion times; but for some reason, it breaks him.
Connor Maguire unbuckles his belt.
My mouth opens in surprise. I grip my thighs, motionless. He moves closer, unzipping his slacks. One powerful hand slips down the front… down into his boxer briefs (black and simple)…
And he grips himself.
He grips… his hard cock.
Holy fuck. I catch a glimpse of him. Massive, thick, a huge outline under his cotton underwear.
“You’re incredible, angel. Fuck, you are beautiful.”
“What else do you want, Mr. Maguire?”
I’m fully in the role now. Good-girl Angie’s dead and gone. I’m his angel now, and she’s a filthy slut.
“Turn around. On your knees.”
I smile to myself. Another classic. I know exactly what he wants. I shift my weight, getting up on the cushions, my elbows on the back of the couch. I keep my knees spread, back arched so my spine looks long and my ass is pressed out, and turn to look over my shoulder.
“Like this?”
He moans, stroking himself. “Just like that. Fuck, where have you been hiding?”
“Accounting.”
“One hand on your ass.”
I touch myself the way he’s asking. “More?”
“Move that hand slowly… like that… slowly around your hips and down between your legs.”
I shiver, staring as he keeps stroking. His slacks sink down his hips, down to his knees.
His thighs are covered in ink.
His cock is rock hard and huge.
It doesn’t take much convincing. I let him watch as I reach around my hips, find my pussy, and place my hand over myself.
I’m burning hot and dripping wet.
“Like this?”
“Oh, fuck,” he moans. “Look at you, angel.”
“Do you like to watch me, Mr. Maguire?”
“Yes, I fucking do.” His eyes burn with need. He comes closer. “Do you like this, angel? Do you like that I’m touching my cock while watching you right now?”
“Yes,” I say and really, really mean it.
“Stroke yourself. Slowly. Do it now.”
Oh, god.
I obey, because I desperately want to. My hand presses as I move down my pussy, pressing against my lips, palm then fingers grazing against my swollen, aroused clit.
“Like this?”
“Just like that, angel. Up and down. Does that feel good?”
“So good,” I say, a moan escaping my lips. It’s so dirty and I shouldn’t be making noise like that, but I also shouldn’t be letting my boss watch me like this, so it’s time to let go. I stroke a little firmer. “Oh, fuck, Mr. Maguire.”