Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
She nods hesitantly, gulping as her eyes flit between my face and the cord in my hand.
“Yes,” she whispers, shifting nervously on the bed. “If I can see your face, I’m okay with it. And as long as no one else can come in.”
I smirk triumphantly, my cock twitching in my slacks as I take in the sight of her, still so put together, just waiting for me to tear her apart.
“The door’s locked,” I remind her. “No one’s coming in.”
She nods again, a little more certain this time, and I pull the cord, allowing the curtain on the other side to rise. I stalk back over to her, drinking in the nervous little glances she shoots to the mirror behind me.
“Anyone out there can see you,” I tell her. “Could be no one, could be the entire club. Let’s put on a show, sweetheart.”
I stop just a step away from her, reaching up and tugging at the ties of my mask. I keep it in place with my free hand, meeting her eyes as my heart begins to pound in excitement. This is it. The pieces are all going to fall into place right here, right now.
Riley Morgan is about to be mine.
“Are you ready, Miss Morgan?”
She nods, wetting her lips and looking up at me, still so innocent and sweet. I can’t wait to take all of that innocence for myself.
“I’m ready,” she murmurs. “Please.”
I wait for another long second, my smile widening on my lips as I pull my hand away, letting my mask slide down my nose.
She has no idea what’s coming for her, but as her mouth drops open in surprise, I can’t help but relish the idea of how good that pretty little mouth of hers is going to look wrapped around my cock.
CHAPTER 14
RILEY
My mouth drops open in shock as the mask slips away from his face, revealing features I’m all too familiar with.
Defined brows rest over intense, steel-grey eyes. His aquiline nose drags my eyes down to the pleased curl of his lips. The stubble dusting his jawline is just a shade darker than it was this morning, when I sat across from him and went over reports for our first Friday recap.
Mr. D’Amico.
My mystery man.
One and the same.
I’m either going to pass out or throw up.
The arousal that had been building in my gut takes a hard left turn into confusion and anxiety, reality slamming into me in an entirely unpleasant fashion. My eyes dart around the room, hoping for something to be off, to tell me that I’m dreaming, but the deepest part of my mind is rioting in celebration.
This is what I wanted, what I fantasized about. It’s so much more terrifying seeing it actually happen.
I shove up from the bed without thinking, my body moving just to do something, but he catches me with a single hand around my throat. He doesn’t squeeze, only applying enough pressure to sit me back down and keep me there.
I’m so lightheaded I can’t think straight.
“Calm down,” he says, his voice steady and insistent.
How did I not recognize him? It was right there in front of me this whole time. I hear his voice every day at work. He was up on the stage at the gala less than a minute after asking for my number. I’ve been looking into those steely blue eyes, imagining my mystery man and Nick were the same person, not knowing I was right all along.
“Oh my God,” I cry, clenching my eyes shut as embarrassment floods me.
I’ve been texting my boss. I’ve been sexting my boss. At work.
He’s been on the other side of the wall while I’ve complained about Sloane and bragged about my brand-new office. And I fingered myself open on my desk! I’ve been throwing myself at my boss without even knowing it. Sloane’s words from earlier come back in a rush, hitting me like a train, causing my stomach to turn.
Fucking hell, I want to disappear.
Nick’s hand shifts from my throat to my face, his knuckles dragging across my jaw.
“Breathe, Miss Morgan,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the apple of my cheek. “In and out, copy me.”
I drag a lungful of air in before I even register that I’m listening, but it doesn’t make me any less light-headed. My heart races in my chest, but I can’t stop myself from leaning into his gentle touch. After several ragged breaths, I force my eyes open, darting across his features, trying to convince myself that this is real.
“I…”
“I know it’s a lot,” he says when I fail to come up with anything to say, his lips curving into a smile. “Just give yourself a moment.”
Give myself a moment? I’d need a century to process about half of what’s happening right now.
“What—Mr. D’Amico, I—”
“Nick.” He cuts me off without hesitation, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes, that unwavering steely grey even more intimidating up close. “My name is Nick.”