Bastard In Suit(13)
“I’m not like that,” I say, humiliated. Scared. My voice has about as much strength as a muted squeak. “I just wanted you to give the product another chance.”
Duke pushes his groin up against me, his cock, thick and hard, presses against my bare thigh. He tightens his grip on my wrists. “This isn’t what you want?”
This is exactly what I want, I think, but can’t bring myself to admit out loud.
My body aches with longing, with the need to feel his hands on me.
His lips graze my ear lobe. A small whimper escapes from somewhere deep in my throat. My chest heaves.
“Tell me you want me.”
My throat clogs up.
“Say it,” he says, now with more force.
His tongue flicks behind my ear and I feel myself go weak. Yes, God yes. “I want you,” I manage to rasp out.
Duke’s mouth crashes into mine. He parts my lips with his tongue. I open up to him, eager, desperate.
Hold back, Hailey. The rational part of my brain tries to reason with me. It’s no use. Common sense is cast aside. It’s like I’m trapped under some kind of spell. Completely lost.
He pulls back, and I’m shocked by the sudden sense of loss.
“Do you want more?” he says.
I nod.
Mischief dances behind his pupils. “What do you want more, Hailey? This—or for me to listen to your pitch? Choose. You only get one or the other.”
God help me, the choice isn’t even close. My panties are soaked. I’m quivering under his touch. A selfish need to be ravished by this man pushes aside my guilt, ignores the incessant tap, tap, tap of on my conscience. Since the moment I laid eyes on Duke Kingston, I’ve thought of little else.
“You,” I say, breathless. “I choose you. More of you.”
His mouth plunders mine.
Our tongues tangle while his body grinds against me. I’m desperate to touch him, to run my hands over the rigid lines of his muscles. His grip on my wrists tightens.
I close my eyes, submitting to his dominance. My body aches so badly I can hardly breathe. He lets go of my wrists, but before I can capitalize on my freedom, he grabs a chord of rope from the shelf behind me and uses it to tie them behind my back.
He does it so quickly and efficiently that you’d think he was a magician.
I can’t believe I just asked for this.
I’m being tied up by Duke Kingston instead of sitting at the table and pitching my product to him.
This is insane.
The vulnerability of being tied up like this should make me uncomfortable. It doesn’t. My heart skips with anticipation.
He pulls tight on the rope around my wrists. It’s rough, industrial, and has already begun to scratch at my skin.
“Don’t move,” he says.
His hands, now free, skim the side of my hips.
I arch my back, giving in to his touch. He traces the V of my cleavage and then slides one finger under each side of the dress. When his thumbs graze the tips of my hard nipples, I suck in a sharp gasp. Sweet Jesus, I’m melting.
He expertly moves my dress aside to expose my full breasts, and cups them in his hands. His head dips toward me. When his tongue flicks across my skin, I let out a heavy sigh. I pull toward him, wanting more. I’m hot, ready to catch fire.
Duke takes one nipple between his lips and begins to suck. My pussy clenches. I writhe under the pressure and cry out when his teeth scrape at my flesh. He bites harder. Sucks. Takes another bite.
“More,” I whimper.
Duke slides his hand up and under my dress and hooks his fingers around the waistband of my panties. With one tug, he tears them off, leaving me exposed and wet. Holy shit, I’m wet.
The rope rubs against my wrists and I’m sure there will be a mark, but I don’t want him to stop.
His hand hovers dangerously close to my pussy. I thrust toward him. The first swipe of his finger along my slit makes me cry out.
It’s barely a whisper, but it’s enough.
My orgasm builds even before he finally touches my clit. I feel a surge and then it crashes over me, sending ripples of pleasure up through my spine. I turn my head away from him and a deep moan erupts from inside my chest.
Holy. Shit.
And that’s when it hits me— a rush of humiliation and shame that bears down on me like a freight train.
Duke quickly yanks on the rope to untie me, his eyes never leaving mine, mouth glistening. I rub at my wrists and avert my gaze to the floor where my torn panties lay at my feet. I adjust my dress and crouch to retrieve my underwear, a whirl of emotion churning in my unsettled stomach.
“I’ll meet you out front,” he says.
The lack of tenderness in his voice guts me. After a moment of trying to compose myself, I follow him out of the storage room. After what just happened, I can’t imagine finishing our meal, and I’m trying to work up an excuse when I realize I won’t have to. Duke has already paid for dinner and is escorting me out to the waiting limousine.