Page 13 of Indecent Proposal

Maybe, I imagined myself whispering in response.

My hands slid up my legs, trailing teasingly on the inside of my thighs as I imagined him looming over me, his fingers toying with the hem of the shirt. He’d say something about wanting his shirt back, and I’d saythen take it back.

Vaughn seemed like the kind of man who liked a challenge, even in bed, and I was more than willing to give him that.

I began to touch myself in earnest, my fingers gliding through my wet pussy as I imagined him undoing the buttons on my shirt one at a time, teasing me with how slowly he was unfastening each one. He would get halfway done, I decided, and then become impatient and dominant and rip the rest of it open, startling me, making me gasp in surprise and spiraling lust.

“That’s better,” he’d murmur, those large hands smoothing up the skin of my stomach to my breasts like he already owned them.

I’d whimper, make a halfhearted protest that would die in my throat as he squeezed my breasts, kneaded them, pinched my nipples into hard, aching points. Anything I could say would be a lie anyway—my body would give everything away as I spread my legs and trembled under his touch, arching into his rough hands on my breasts.

What if he whispered about punishing me for wearing his clothes? What if he told me I owed him something now for disobeying him? I got unbelievably wet at the thought. I rubbed my clit, pushing my fingers inside of myself as I imagined him spreading my thighs and kneeling over me. I could imagine the bulge in his pants so clearly, the outline of his thick, impressive cock.

My mouth watered and I moaned softly, envisioning Vaughn pulling his cock out and stroking the length in his fist, showing it off for me. He was so big everywhere else—big hands, broad shoulders, tall—that I knew he’d have a sizable cock. And I’d want him to slide every single inch inside me, to make me feel so full that I was gasping for breath as if he were choking me.

Would he make me finger myself while he watched with dark, hooded eyes? Telling me in a soft growl to get myself good and ready for his cock? Or would he do it himself, his thicker, longer fingers stretching me as he held me in place with his other hand on my belly?

I squirmed on my own fingers, imagining that I was writhing under his touch, his relentless gaze.

What a naughty girl you are, he’d murmur in that deep, dominant tone.You need to be put in your place.

Maybe he’d even say something like,if you’re going to wear my clothes, then you’re going to belong to me, too.

I inhaled sharply as I slid a third finger into myself, and I imagined that it was his cock slowly entering me, making me shake and gasp.

He wouldn’t hold back once he was inside me. He’d fuck me hard and rough, holding me in place so that I had no choice but to just lie there andtakeit. Richard always had this… this air about him like he just assumed I was having a good time, so he didn’t have to put in the work as much. But Vaughn, I was sure, would make certain I felt as much pleasure as I could handle—and beyond. I would have to take what he gave me, no matter how much it made me feel overwhelmed, no matter how much I whined and moaned.

The entire fantasy was so hot, so arousing, that I touched myself faster, imagining him fucking me on and on and on, until I was a puddle and begging him, telling him I couldn’t possibly orgasm again.

You’re mine, he’d growl.That means I use you as long as I want, until I decide I’m finished.

He’d probably leave slight bruises with how tightly he was gripping me. I wanted that. I wanted a reminder of how he’d owned me and dominated me… forced me to submit to him…

I gasped and shuddered on my own fingers, rubbing my clit mercilessly as I imagined Vaughn fucking me roughly, getting the angle just right to drag against my clit from the inside. He’d have to clap a hand over my mouth when I got too loud—“can’t let anyone hear us, remember?”—as the both of us came, and he filled me with his hot, sticky release and I couldn’t help but orgasm from the feeling of it deep inside my pussy—

My orgasm hit me and my toes curled, my body arching. Yes, yes,yes. I bit my lip hard, forcing myself to keep rubbing my clit even as it pushed me into oversensitivity.

Having that with Vaughn would feel so good, so fucking good. I wanted it so badly…

I pulled my hand away and collapsed onto the bed, sweating and panting—but smiling. Obviously, this was a ridiculous, over-the-top fantasy. Vaughn didn’t want me like that, and it would be highly inappropriate for us to interact like two sex starved people. He also probably would have to wear a condom, but since I was fantasizing about everything else, why not that, too?

As my orgasm faded, I felt a little silly for using visions of Vaughn to get off. I wasn’t the kind of girl who tripped over her feet for any good-looking man who came her way. Having Vaughn star in my fantasies was probably just my mind’s way of dealing with the stress that I was under. But at least I felt more relaxed and sleepier now.

The cabin felt stifling after that orgasm, so I opened the window near the bed and then drifted off to sleep. Fantasies about Vaughn were nice, but they weren’t my priority, I reminded myself sternly as I slowly slipped into slumber. What mattered was finding out what happened to Richard and getting justice.

This was about my life. Not about romance or sex.

CHAPTER5

Vaughn

Claire’s fiancé (or rather former fiancé, from what she’d told me even if they hadn’t made the breakup official yet) worked in the financial sector, like a lot of men from his background. They came from wealthy families who had established themselves in finance, real estate, sometimes also politics. They went to the best schools, and then received internships and stable jobs right out of graduation—and they told themselves that they’d worked hard for all of it and had never been handed anything.

Yeah, right, sure.The rest of us had to find other means to make our way in life, and it didn’t usually involve people just giving us lucrative jobs we could stay in for the rest of our lives. I’d enrolled in the military out of necessity like most people. Sure, there was the feeling of doing the right thing, the feeling of protecting your country, but nobody shipped off to war because it just sounded like a fun career option. They did it because the military would pay for your college degree when you got out, or because they needed to escape a bad situation at home, or because they had no other options for work.

We went to war, saw bloodshed and death, and these men thought they knew what hard work was. It drove me insane.

Unfortunately, these types of men were usually also our clients, so I had to keep my thoughts to myself. Or at least try to. My partners were always warning me that I was going to piss off a client someday and we’d all land ourselves in hot water but whatever. There was a reason I tended to stick to the security aspects of the job and avoid the customer service.

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