Page 22 of Cruel Dominion

One definitely taken before he’d ever seen me. With his new mask firmly in place.

And one from after, or at least I guessed so by the scowl on his lips and the way he was angrily pushing his hair away from his face.

That one was my Carter. The angsty boy on the midnight beach, only older.

My thighs squeezed and I bit my lip, trying to temper the feelings seeing him always roused in me.

God, I missed him.

And I hated that I missed him.

I slid my fingers under the elastic band of my panties, gathering moisture from my entrance while I studied the shape of him in his perfectly fitted suit. Imagined ripping it off him. Imagined him in his trademark dark wash jeans and loose black tee.

He was every inch the gorgeous CEO, and he probably had women lined up around the block to play his sexy secretary.

Scrolling down, I saw more pictures of him taken at events. He always had a different date on his arm. Here was a big-eyed blonde woman, so tiny that she barely came up to Carter’s collarbone. Then a svelte, dark-skinned model who gave me serious Grace Jones vibes.

I quickly swiped past them, not wanting to see.

My eyes widened when I spotted a completely different shot. It was Carter on a yacht somewhere, a glistening blue sea in the background behind him. It was taken with a long lens, obviously by some paparazzi. I couldn’t look away from it.

Carter was glistening with water, the sunlight emphasizing the lines of his muscles. His sun-kissed skin was marked with extensive tattoos, which only made him look more like a devil, out to seduce virgins to join him back in hell.

I knew that if I zoomed in, I could see the scars, too. The ones I’d run my fingers over on the beach so long ago. I could still smell his warm skin, still imagine the weight of him over me.

I pressed harder on my clit, circling it until my entire body felt tight with pleasure. Memory and fantasy blended into a potent brew, making me get even more wet. I could hear the obscene sounds of my fingers moving over my folds. My eyes screwed shut while I brought myself closer and closer to the edge.

I couldn’t stop the breathy moans escaping me.

Fuck him.

Fuck Carter Cole.

I almost screamed his name as I came. My back arched, and my vision went black, the cage around me vanishing, just for a moment.

6

CARTER

“Little late for a meeting, isn’t it, boss?” Paulson said.

“Is it?” I asked dryly. It might be late for anyone else, but 6pm was right in the middle of Paulson’s work day. PIs weren’t exactly known for keeping normal business hours.

Still, Paulson looked rough. He hadn’t shaved his uneven beard in a few days, and there were visible coffee stains on his cheap button-up.

“So, why wasn’t this meeting an email?” he asked.

“You’ve failed me, Paulson,” I said, picking up the platinum letter opener I kept on my desk. I twirled the handle casually in my fingers, and Paulson visibly gulped. He knew exactly what I was talking about.

“You’re right,” he said quickly. “I should have known Anna would be back. Hudson Vaughn kept a tight lid on things.”

“For what I’m paying you, I expect you to get into all his nooks and crannies,” I said coolly. “Or are you trying to say you’re no longer up for the job?”

“No, no,” Paulson assured me. “In fact, I’ve got some new information about Anna Vaughn that I think will make up for that little lapse.”

I glared cooly at him, pressing the tip of the letter opener against the pad of my thumb. My instincts warred between letting him dangle a little longer, and impatiently demanding information.

“What do you have for me?” I said finally, cutting to the chase.

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