Page 26 of Dirty Deal

A full-body shiver wracks my reflection in the mirror. I’ve shoved every thought of him to the back of my mind, stuffed what happened tonight into a lock box in my brain, but I can’t distract myself any longer. Even the shit show with my parents isn’t enough to keep Weston James off my mind.

My hands move in the mirror, stroking up both sides of my waist. My breaths quicken as I picturehishands instead, big and strong and possessive as they touch my body.

Biting my abused bottom lip, I snake one hand behind me and pop my ivory lace bra free. It falls to the tiles, and then I’m bared. Completely naked, because a certain arrogant casino owner took my panties home in his pocket, winking at me when he tucked them away.

My clit throbs in time with my heartbeat. My reflection squeezes her thighs together, a flush crawling up her chest and neck.

Has Weston touched my panties again yet? Rubbed his thumb against the lace? Wrapped them around his cock and jerked himself to completion, my name gritted between his teeth?

Steam fills the bathroom, fogging the edges of the mirror, and I inhale sharply before turning and stepping into the shower.

The water is hot, drumming against my stiff shoulders and back. I turn slowly under the spray, soaping every inch of my skin, startled by howalienmy whole body feels now that Weston has touched it.

Not in a bad way. It’s more like he found a secret switch behind my ear, and now every nerve ending in my body has lit up like a circuit board. My nipples are so sensitive, I stifle a groanas I soap them. My legs tremble as I wash between my thighs, breath catching at how slick and swollen I still feel.

Those were just his fingers.

Imagine Weston’s thick cock, pressing inside and splitting me wide. Imagine his bruising grip on my hips, and the rhythmic thrust of his body into mine. Imagine—

“Shit.”

My whisper is lost in the drumming shower spray. Slumping against the wall, I rest my overheated forehead against the tiles, even as my fingers delve between my legs once more.

Let me fuck you tomorrow, baby. Let me spread you out on my desk and make you mine.

I bite my lip against a groan, rubbing feverish circles around my clit. Tension twists in my lower belly, my body complaining at how empty it feels without Weston’s fingers to ride. When the tension breaks, the pleasure is sharp and shallow and wholly unsatisfying now that I’ve had the real thing.

My forehead thumps gently against the wall.

I’m gonna do it, aren’t I? I’m gonna let Weston James ruin me for all other men.

And when he inevitably breaks my heart, I’ll have no one to blame but myself.

* * *

The next evening, I dress myself with military precision. Every inch of my outfit, my makeup, my hair—it’s all chosen with one aim in mind.

It’s armor.

Because if Weston James breaks my heart after tonight, if he gets what he wants then turns me away afterward… I will never let him see how much that hurts me. That’s my promise to myself.

My lingerie is dark purple silk; my dress is steel gray with a high neckline but a plunging back. I slide on my highest, stabbiest heels and slick my lips with red. My dark hair is swept over one shoulder. The black trench coat is the final touch, the belt cinched at my waist.

A stranger stares back at me in my bedroom mirror, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. I look excited. Iamexcited.

I also look ready to crush a certain casino owner under my heel, and you know what? That’s accurate, too.

The journey to Merritt’s is agonizingly slow, the streets clogged with traffic. I stare out of the tinted window in the backseat and count my breaths.

Nearly there.

So close.

Then I’ll be withhim, running into his strong arms. Relishing his possessive hold; feeling treasured for once in my life, even if it’s all wishful thinking on my part.

Even this is just another mind game.

Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Trying to figure that out kept me awake for hours last night, tossing and turning restlessly in my bed, but I drew no conclusions. Some things we have to learn the hard way.

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