Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 740(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 740(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
“You would never doubt yourself again. Say yes,” he whispers as his lips ghost over mine.
Say yes. To him. To a month of lust stitched tightly around the real reason I’m here. For Emmy. For his children.
“It would be madness,” I whisper, breathing him in. Utter and complete selfishness, I think with a shiver.
“Submit to it.” He traces his forefinger down the center of my chest, his clever hands moving to frame my breasts over my bra. My white, lacy bra, the same one I ignored the whisper of truth as I’d selected it. Wear something pretty… just in case. I give a soft sigh as he molds my flesh. “Submit to me.”
His dark head dips, his mouth engulfing my aching nipple over the fabric. I gasp, a seismic ripple of pleasure overtaking me at the sucking tug.
“Let it pull you under,” the devil whispers as he slips his fingers into the cups, releasing my nipples. His tongue licks long and lushly, drawing them into hot, aching points as his dark eyes watch my reaction, feeding from it almost.
His dark head bowed over my pale flesh, my white bra, and his lips as rosy as my glistening nipples. The sight is obscene.
“Oh, God.” I’m nothing but a cliché. The nanny, seduced by the older man. The boss. The dominant daddy. It’s so wrong, but it’s probably also the reason pleasure pulses through me.
One of the reasons. As though he understands—as though he somehow divines my thoughts, my sudden deviancy, he palms my pussy over my shorts. Clasps it tight. I make a noise that’s anything but elegant as I buck into his hand.
“You’re so fucking sexy.” His mouth plunders mine as he presses his thumb over my clit, almost getting me off on the seam.
I’m throbbing, held in the grip of him, pinned and desperate for the kind of praise I shouldn’t want to hear from him. I know this is wrong—I didn’t come to Mallorca to be screwed seven ways from Sunday by some rich, bossy brute. But I long to be picked apart by him. I want him to teach me. Show me all that I’ve missed. I want him to fuck me so hard I break apart before he pulls my hair as he puts me back together again.
My fingers fold around the edge of his desk as though hanging on for dear life. I tip back my head as the Mediterranean sun blazes through the window, bright enough to bleach the world into blindness. No shadows or darkness to protect me now.
Excitement ripples through me at the thought, soft and silky, like caramel through ice cream. Anyone could see me, naked and spread across the desk. Or open this door and see us like this. The risk feels like lightning in my blood, the possibility as real as his hold.
His head lifts, and his gaze follows. Unlike last night, he offers me no reassurance but a sly-looking smile.
“I would show you off to everyone,” he whispers, low and rough. “Stripped bare for my pleasure.”
Heat consumes me. Shame and pleasure wash through me. It’s such a heady concoction. Why do I react like this? It feels so unreal, and I don’t mean like porn. Him and me, now—this moment. It’s worship and war. It’s risk and its seduction as he pops the button on my shorts.
My body moves with the violence of the motion as he drags them from me, my bum moving across the burr walnut. I want to say something clever as he yanks them down my legs, but all that comes out is a caught gasp as his thumb slips inside me, peeling me open to bare my clit.
“You like the sound of that, don’t you, little flower?”
I nod like a marionette, hot, sweet shame showering me as my hips move into his touch. As my bum sticks to the desk. As I hear myself growing so embarrassingly wet.
I moan as he strokes over the soft rise of my clit, both my brain and body seduced. His fingers slide lower, two fingers driving inside me. A tight revolution of his thumb over my clit and I’m done for.
“They’d watch you bloom. Breathe you in as they watch the flush of your excitement stain your milky skin.”
“Oh, God.” I close my eyes, seeing myself up on that stage, faceless people watching as Luc drives me to my peak.
“But only I would get to fuck you.”
“Yes!”
“Mon dieu, you’re so fucking perfect.”
I want to tell him I’m not. That he should punish me. Fuck me against the glass like the shameless slut I am in my head. But my nice girls don’t admit such things. Not that I look like much of a good girl right now. Legs parted, chest heaving, nipples wet and glistening. And loving every minute of this.