I smile against her throat. “Naughty girl.”
Ignoring her groans of protest, I unhook her fingers from both the metal and my neck and hold them above her with one of my hands.
“Tell me.” I keep my body pinned to hers, hindering her from being able to move as I brush my nose lightly over hers. “What have you done to earn the reward of coming?”
“I-I—” Her eyes widen, her once tiny pupils now bleeding into her irises. A beautiful rose color takes over the bridge of her nose, and I decide in this moment I want to see the rest of her body that same color.
“That’s what I thought.” I move back to the crook of her neck, scraping my teeth up her delicate flesh before catching her earlobe between them. “When you show me that you can be a good girl, I’ll reward you. That’s how this game works.”
Her chest heaves up and down against me as she attempts to catch her breath, and even through the thick velvet, I can feel her pebbled nipples. “And how do I show you that?”
“So, you’d like to play?”
She huffs, agitation mixing in with her arousal, making her all the more needy. Never have I wanted someone as badly as I want her. My body is fucking pulsing against her, compelling me to consider forgoing everything I have planned and just taking her right here.
But visions of her on my desk help me reel myself back under control.
My voice drops. “I need you to answer me, Miss Cartier. Would you like to play?”
Her head moves up and down frantically, forcing me to pull back and grab her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “Aht, aht. Use your words, darling.”
Somehow, the blood in her cheeks darkens, and for a moment I wonder where the pain in my ass Presley went. But then she smirks, narrowing her eyes. “Yes, sir. I want to play.”
I smirk in return before placing a soft kiss on her lips. “Atta girl.”
Slowly, I back away, lowering her legs until I’m confident she can stand on her own. When her heels hit the floor, I put only enough space between us so I can slip a hand in my pocket and pull out a satin bag. Unlatching the small string, I take out the two Ben Wa Balls and hold them in front of her.
“Do you know what these are?”
Presley looks from the silver in my hand to my face, then back again. “I do.”
“I want you to wear them,” I state simply, already having closed my hand and moving my fist down her side.
She closes her eyes against my light touch, the friction just barely reaching her through the rich fabric. When I reach the small sliver of flesh showing beneath the slit of her dress, she stalls her breathing as her lashes flutter open.
“Is this for real?”
I chuckle but pause. “It is. Second thoughts?”
Her beautiful eyes are open now and examining the calmness of my schooled features. I knew the moment she put the dress on that she wanted to please me, but I also want her to vocalize her desire.
But before I have time to worry that she may be having those second thoughts, she surprises me. “This isn’t Fifty Shades.”
I smile wide now. “Oh, but Mr. Grey was on to something.”
I let my hand dip lower, brushing against the sensitive skin just outside her panty line. A tremor works through her while her head falls back against the elevator mirror simultaneously. “I—I.”
Uncurling one finger, I slide it inside the elastic. She opens her thighs, allowing better access but I don’t move in farther. I need to hear her say it. “Tell me what you want, pet.”
A frustrated moan spills from her wet, parted lips at the use of my endearment, but she manages to bring her face down and focus her hooded gaze on me, sass dripping into her words. “I want you to put your little jingle balls in me.”
That smart mouth will be the end of her; she just doesn’t realize it yet. Instead of granting her a response, I find her slit with my wandering fingers.
I can’t stop my eyes from closing, and I have to clamp my jaw shut to keep some semblance of composure. She’s fucking drenched.
I slip one of the balls from my palm and in between my thumb and index. Pressing the cold metal to her core, I let my hooded gaze flash to hers.
Her lashes are low, her blinks lazy as she tries to calm her breathing.
“Are you ready?”
She starts to nod but must think better of it. “Yes, sir.”
I press it inside her, reveling in the tremor that works down her arms as she holds on to the bar for support. I want to take a moment longer to appreciate her like this—the trust she’s putting in me to do this. But knowing if I do, I will say fuck everything and take her, I make quick work of putting the other one in right behind. Her warm walls clasp around my fingers, and it takes more control than I’d like to admit to draw my hand away.
“How does that feel, Miss Cartier?”
Presley bats her eyelashes for a few moments, almost as if she’s doing more thinking about how she feels about what’s happening than the real evaluation of the Ben Wa Balls.
Words found, she grins. “Like the main character.”
I hold my arm out, letting her loop hers around mine as I press the button for the elevator to open the doors. “Oh, darling. But you are.”
I hate my boss. I do. Really. I know what transpired in the elevator may contradict everything I’m saying—what I’ve always said—but I mean it. He was just too dominating, too powerful and all-consuming for me to do anything but melt under his commands.
And don’t get me wrong, I’m not a weak woman. I’m not someone who dry humps people she hates in a freaking elevator, but I wasn’t thinking. My mind was complete and utter mush, ruled by the fire rolling in my body and acting of its own accord.
Did I like it? Oh, my God, yes.
Did I want to stop? Also... no. No, I didn’t.
But what just happened goes beyond anything I even consider outside the walls of my wildest fantasies.
He ... I ... my free hand lifts to my swollen bottom lip.
Even though realization begins to settle in, my head can’t physically wrap around what we did. What I let him do. Hell, what I wished he would do. And my prickling skin from where our arms are currently connected proves that I wanted him.
I’m still on fire everywhere his hands were and everywhere I wanted them to be. And God, I wanted—want— him. More than I have ever wanted anyone in my entire life.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Roman Chen is a complete and utter asshole. He moves to a tune of his own, that no one around him is good enough to hear, and he couldn’t give two shits about anyone else but himself.
If that’s the only truth, then why do I feel like I was everything to him in that elevator. As if I consumed him as much as he did me? That I had him on the brink of his own sanity?