Page 22 of They All Own Me

He leans back, eyes closed, already losing interest in my presence. I glance at the camera again, ensuring it’s positioned correctly on the bookshelf.

"Don’t take all day," he grumbles, as if I’m a service he’s booked.

"I wouldn’t dream of it," I reply sweetly, trying not to roll my eyes. I wrap my fingers around him, feeling the weight and warmth in my hand.

As I start, his breath hitches and he lets out a low groan. The sound is almost enough to make me gag, but I push through, knowing this is the perfect opportunity.

I move one hand down to the hidden mic Dominic gave me earlier. Carefully, I stick it under the desk while maintaining my rhythm. Thomas's breathing gets heavier; he's completely oblivious to anything other than what I'm doing.

He's panting now, practically a dog in heat. The thought disgusts me, but I keep going, focusing on securing the mic properly.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath. "Keep going."

I roll my eyes internally but comply. His hand tangles in my hair, trying to guide me faster, rougher. It takes every ounce of self-control not to bite him where it hurts most.

"Goddamn it, such a good girl," he moans louder now, completely lost in his own pleasure.

With the mic securely in place, I focus on finishing the job quickly. His grip tightens and within moments he's shuddering, pulling away from the desk and collapsing back into his chair.

"See?" he says between pants. "This is why you're still around."

I stand up, brushing off my knees and adjusting my tits back into place. Thomas looks at me with that same mixture of disdain and satisfaction.

A fleeting thought crosses my mind – what if Dom and his men were watching me? I did set up the camera after all? Heat rushes through me at the idea.

Is there something wrong with me that the thought of the crime syndicate watching me give head turns me on?

I look right in the camera's direction.

This game I'm playing is dangerous as hell, but suddenly, it's not just about revenge anymore.

It's about feeling alive for once.

"Why don't we take this somewhere more comfortable?" I trail my fingers along his arm. "Like right here on your desk?"

He pushes my hand away. "I told you I'm busy. Go do whatever it is you do all day."

"Come on, baby." I perch on the edge of his desk, crossing my legs slowly. "When's the last time we really had fun in here?"

"For fuck's sake, Tatum." He stands up, straightening his tie. "I've got meetings to prepare for. This isn't some teenage romance novel where we screw on every surface."

I lean back, giving him my best seductive look. "Don't you want to christen your desk?"

"What I want is for you to stop acting like a desperate housewife and let me work."

He's right I am desperate. But not desperate for him, desperate to fucking ruin him.

Chapter 13

Connor

The security roomis dimly lit, screens flickering with static and grainy surveillance footage. My own little personal refuge. I lean back in my chair, tapping my pen against the desk, and running my tongue over my lip ring, a habit I've had since I was sixteen.

The camera that Tatum was supposed to plant in Thomas's office suddenly flickers on, and I do a double take.

“What in the actual—” I mutter, leaning closer to the screen.

Tatum stands there in red lingerie, looking like a goddamn goddess. I run a hand through my hair, trying to process what I’m seeing.

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