Page 52 of Unmasked Legacy

“Well you should know,” I retort, “that I don’t like being attacked by your little girlfriend.”

“You provoked her.”

I snort. “We both know that she has been waiting to do that since I first walked through those gates.”

He looks up at me, and my heart skips a beat. Dammit. I wish more than anything my body didn’t react to him this way.

“You’re just fuckin’ salty that I left the other day.”

I hold my breath, that familiar burn of shame washing through me.

“I’m not a fuckin’ asshole, I wasn’t goin’ to let her leave without explainin’.”

I don’t need to hear this.

I’m in no mood.

I push out of the chair and try to step past him toward the door.

He stops me by taking my arm, swinging me around and pulling me down as he plants his bottom into the chair I was just in. He holds me tight enough that I can’t move, my groin pressed against his legs as I squirm to get away.

“What sort of game are you playing?” I mutter, frustrated that I can’t seem to remove myself even when I want to.

“I’m finishin’ what I started.”

He hauls me up, bringing me down onto his lap, and I have no choice but to spread my legs or risk toppling over. His arms close around me, holding me to him. Muttering a curse, I look into his eyes, frustration bubbling. “I’m not into this kind of mental mind fuckery.”

“Good to know,” he murmurs, reaching between us and shoving my skirt up.

My breath hitches.

“Do you mind?”

He strokes a finger over my panties, grinning. “Wet. As I predicted.”

“Let me go.”

He releases his hold. “Not stoppin’ you, Kitten.”

His already hard cock presses into my pussy, nudging me, teasing.

“I fucking hate you,” I gasp when he pushes my panties aside, exposing me to his fingers.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.”

I could get off his lap, but I’m choosing not to. I hate that I’m so weak around him, but I can’t seem to stop myself. I want him, and I sure as hell deserve to get my damn orgasm. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself. I’m not pulling away, and because of that, I need to reason with my brain.

Pathetic, really.

Unbuckling his jeans, he lifts us for a second, shoving them down before lifting me and lowering me down toward his cock.

“You clean?” he growls, holding me just above him.

“Yes. Are you?”

“Yeah. You protected?”

“Yes,” I breathe when he slowly lowers me.

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