Page 38 of Degrading Her

“Because I’m as ambitious as you are,” I said. “And I know what I want. I want you.”

Her pupils dilated, her breathing slowed.

I shouldn’t have done it.

I should have stayed still.

But I wasn’t going to stop myself anymore.

My hand squeezed her throat, and she swallowed. I bent down, pressing my lips to hers, tasting that minty flavor in her mouth. I sucked her tongue back into my mouth and opened my eyes as she melted into my touch, wanting more. I sucked harder until she squirmed against me, pressing herself in deeper. Fiona had been easy to read since the day I met her. She never tried to hide herself. I knew exactly what she wanted, and she knew she could find it in me.

I bit down hard on her tongue. She pulled back, but I didn’t let go. She squealed, the sound muffled by my mouth. Finally, I relaxed my jaw and her hand went to her face.

“You bit me,” she said, surprise in her voice.

She must have forgotten asking me to bite her. “You said ‘please.’” I showed her the arrival text message from her temporary driver. It wasn’t a cab, but someone that worked for me; he knew to take her home safely. “Go on. Your ride is waiting.”

Her chest expanded, and she bit her lip. She opened her mouth, perhaps to say ‘goodnight,’ but didn’t know what to call me: Mr. Feldman, or Sawyer. Finally, she twirled around and walked down the stairs.

“Fiona?” I called, stopping her. She flipped around. “Make sure I’m available the next time you want to go out.”

She smirked, a twinkle in her eye. Facing the stairs again, the hem of her dress rode up, exposing the cups of her ass. As she pulled down the fabric, she quickly glanced back at me, to acknowledge that she understood why I wanted to be available every time she went out again. I was the only one who would see her like that again. Even with that possession, or perhapsbecauseof it, her eyes were full of lust. She loved being looked at, knowing that I wanted her all to myself. That I was in complete control.

And one day, I was going to use that desire to break her.

Despite my best interests, I called my own driver, making plans for the rest of the evening.

First, make sure Fiona had gotten home safely.

Second, kill the man who had tried to touch her.

Chapter 9

Sawyer

In the morning,after disposing of the extra corpse in the incinerator, I ended up at the New Host Library a few minutes past the opening. Fiona wasn’t scheduled to start her shift for hours, and yet Iwantedto be there when she arrived. But I knew exactly how Fiona was doing. I had followed her home. Made sure she switched off the light and went to sleep. I had men checking her apartment every few hours to keep tabs on her. But now, I couldn’t stop myself.

Erica waved hello with one hand and a stack of books in her other. I grabbed the books before they fell and helped carry them to the staff room. Then I escaped to my office. At noon, Fiona knocked on my door, then entered my office with a stack of paperwork. Tight pants around her hips, a button-up shirt, her nipples perking.

“Hangover?” I asked.

Her eyes widened for a moment, like she had forgotten what had happened. “I chugged a sports drink before bed. Thanks for asking?”

I headed toward the exit of the staff room. “Come with me.”

She tilted her head. “What?”

“Come. With. Me,” I said. I faced Erica and the part-time employee. “You two can handle the library for the afternoon?” They both nodded. I made eye contact with Erica: “You’re in charge.”

Fiona’s mouth gaped, but I quickly pulled her out of the building and into the luxury SUV, then closed the privacy partition separating us from the driver.

“You have a driver?” Fiona gawked. “Of course you do. Why wouldn’t you?”

The engine rumbled underneath us as the driver took us to myactualoffice in the center of Pierce. Though the Feldman Farm didn’t need the front of the office space, the twenty-fifth floor of the building helped to lend an air of legitimacy to our more hesitant clients. A guard at the front door scanned his own card, then let the two of us inside. I shoved a hand in my pocket, running my thumb over the dice and the diamond-encrusted clamp. We passed a line of desks filled with workers pouring over computers, people paid to find out as much information as possible about the livestock orders. Some had even used our services before applying to work for us, all of them earning their loyalty. And the ones that weren’t loyal?

We had a way to take care of them.

“Research assistants,” I explained.

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