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“You want this, don’t you?” he grits, his hand moving faster. “You want my big cock in your little pussy. You want me to fill you and make you scream my name until you can’t remember why you ever fought me.”
“Yes,” I groan, the lone word escaping before I can stop it. “God, yes.”
He steps back suddenly; his eyes locked on mine as he works himself. His face is twisted with pleasure, and his movements are growing rougher. “Fuck, angel. I fucking love the sight of you on your knees for me.”
His hips jerk, and his head falls back as a guttural grunt billows from him. Ribbons of cum shoot out of him, splattering on the carpet between us. It’s filthy, but I can’t look away or stop the moan that escapes my own throat at the sight of him coming undone because of me. He milks himself slowly before swiping his thump across the tip of his cock, wiping the last bead of cum from the slit. His gaze softens slightly, and he brushes the thumb across my lower lip, painting me with his release. Before I can react, he shoves it between my lips.
“Taste me,” he orders as his salty musk coats my tongue. He withdraws his thumb slowly it slowly before tucking himself into his pants. “Next time,” he warns—or promises—as he buckles his belt, “it won’t just be my thumb in your mouth.” Adjusting his jacket, he transforms into the polished man who walked into this gala while I remain on my knees, with the taste of him on my tongue as my body continues to scream for relief.
Roman looks down at me one last time, his expression unreadable. “I expect you at the valet in five minutes. Do not make me wait.” Without another word, he walks out of the closet. The door clicks softly shut behind him, leaving me alone, with the evidence of his desire cooling on the carpet and my own unsated need burning like a brand between my thighs.
I wipe my lips with the back of my hand, but the salty taste of him lingers. Rising to my feet, my thighs press together, and I’m suddenly acutely aware of the wetness between them. So wet that my thighs are slick, and I worry it’ll mottle the silk of my dress as I smooth it back into place. As I prepare to face the world again, I realize with sinking certainty that this man—this beautiful, cruel, relentless man—is going to be my ruin.
In more ways than one.
Chapter Seven
Roman
The leather of the executive chair feels like a throne I’m about to seize as I unbutton my blazer and take a seat. Edward Harrington sits at the head of the long mahogany table, his silver hair perfectly coiffed. My beautiful wife sits on my left. Both of them are radiating tension so potent it’s almost a physical presence in this room.
“Gentlemen,” Edward declares, tapping his pen on the mahogany table to silence the room. “I’d like to call this meeting of the Harrington Holdings board to order. As you’ve all noticed, we have a new face with us today.”
Silence stretches across the room, the old money shifting uncomfortably. These men—William Thorne, Marcus Blackwood, and Johnathan Sterling—have run the company with Edward for decades. They all believe that one day when he finally relinquishes control that they will have the opportunity to claim his power. None of them counted on me or the envelope of sin that has provided me a seat at the table, money, and my new wife.
“As you all know,” Edward continues, sweating slightly at his temples, “my daughter Cora has recently married Roman Ashford. He has… um, graciously agreed to join our family business.”
The palpable shock that ripples through the room is almost comical. Thorne drops his pen, Blackwood adjusts his tie as though it’s a noose around his neck, and Sterling stares across the table, his mouth slightly agape.
“With all due respect, Edward,” Thorne finally manages, “this is a board of directors meeting, not a family dinner. We have procedures for new appointments.”
“Indeed,” I agree, leaning forward slightly. “Procedures that require a majority vote. Procedures that Edward has assured me will be… forthcoming.”
My gaze drifts to my angel, who is watching me, wide-eyed. While it is no secret to her that I have blackmailed my way into this seat and our marriage, she is not privy to the wealth of information I’m still holding tight to my chest.
“Roman brings a fresh perspective,” Edward chimes, desperate to regain control of the narrative with an ever-growing web of lies. “He will make a remarkable CEO, and eventually successor of the company.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding!” Blackwood exclaims. “He’s a fucking nobody.”
“Actually,” I interject, opening my briefcase and removing a handful of folders. I toss them across the table as I continue, “I’m the man who holds your futures in my hands.”
Each of the men across from me reach for the documents before them, their eyes narrowing as they see the contents. Finding what I needed to blackmail Edward was a challenge, but these men—their indiscretions were easy to find. Talk of Sterling’s little accident—more correctly a drunken hit-and-run that left a dead woman in the middle of LaSalle Street—after last year’s holiday party was popular speculation around the company water cooler. Three weeks of following Blackwood was all it took to learn he spends Tuesday nights with a redhead of questionable age. It also happens to be the same night Thorne spends fucking Mrs. Blackwood.
Thorne quickly closes his folder, hiding the scandalous photographs tucked within. His eyes dart to Blackwood, who is too consumed with his own sins to notice his friend’s unease.
“This is blackmail!” Sterling accuses, his face purple with rage.
“It’s business,” I correct him calmly. “You just aren’t used to being the one without the upper hand. And I am not afraid to play mine.”
Edward looks at his board of directors, unaware of exactly what sins I’ve shoved before them, but smart enough to know that whatever they’ve just seen will force them to make the decision I demand, same as it did for him. His eyes meet mine, and all I can see is a broken man who give me whatever I want to save what little dignity I have allowed him to keep.
“Edward, I think it’s time that you move to proceed with that vote.” A Cheshire-cat grin spreads across my face as I stare at the men opposite me. “Or do you gentleman need more time?”
“I agree.” Black nods, begrudgingly. “We should proceed with a vote.”
“I second that motion,” Thorne adds quickly.
I slide a second set of folders across the table to each of the board members. “Inside, you’ll find my contract for the position you are appointing me to. I’ve graciously tabbed the pages for my salary, percentage of your company shares that will be redistributed to me, and the properties that will be transferred into my and my wife’s name.”
