Page 52 of My Totally Unfair Deal

My breath catches as he steps between my knees, both hands firmly gripping my thighs. I brace for a joke or a sarcastic line—but there’s none. Only silence. Tension. Heat.

He pushes my hair behind my ear and leans in, his lips brushing my jawline. “Did you ever have an orgasm when you had sex?”

“Yes.” My voice is barely a whisper.

“What did it feel like?” His mouth is near mine now, his words dark and deliberate.

“I’m calling Jackson,” I say, weakly. “I’m telling him you’re being inappropriate.”

“Be sure to tell him you liked it.” He slides a finger up the inside of my thigh. “Did it feel like you never wanted it to stop?”

I don’t answer.

He kisses me—hard. One hand tangling in my hair, the other slipping beneath the hem of my shorts. I moan into his mouth, my fingers clawing at his chest.

He tears my panties to the side and presses his thumb against my clit—slow circles, steady rhythm, unwavering control.

“Oh my god…”

He bites my lip, just enough to sting. Then slides two fingers inside me, filling me deep and slow, like he’s mapping every inch of me.

“Ride my hand,” he growls. “Now.”

I hesitate.

“Ride it like you’d fuck me,” he says again, each word rougher than the last.

My hips move before my brain can stop them. I grind against his hand, my body rolling with his rhythm, chasing the edge like it’s the only thing keeping me alive.

Just when I’m there—seconds away—he pulls his hand out and steps back.

“What the?—”

Before I can finish the sentence, he drops to his knees and yanks me to the edge of the counter.

Then his mouth is on me.

Hot. Demanding. Relentless.

His fingers finds the hidden tattoos between my thighs—a small yellow daisy—and he massages it in a way that makes my toes curl.

My head falls back and my hands clutch the counter as waves of ecstasy crash over me.

Higher. Higher. Shattering.

When I come, he keeps his mouth on me, drawing it out, holding me steady as my body trembles uncontrollably.

Then he stands, kisses the corner of my mouth, and whispers against my ear:

“Was it ever like that?”

Never… I’m too wrecked to speak.

“That’s the feeling you should be after when you’re trying to close a deal, Eliza,” he says, coolly. “It’s an ecstasy that’s as close to sex as you’ll ever feel.”

His phone buzzes.

He doesn’t look at me when he answers it.

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