Page 60 of My Totally Unfair Deal

“This what you want?” I growl against her throat. “You want to act like you’re mine and then flirt with anyone who fucking breathes near you?”

She doesn’t answer with words.

She digs her nails into my scalp and grinds her hips into mine.

I hook one of her legs around my waist and slide my hand under her dress. Her panties are already soaked.

I shove them to the side and undo my belt with one hand. She fumbles with the button of my pants, cursing when it doesn’t move fast enough.

I yank the foil packet from my pocket and tear it open, my breath ragged as I slide the condom on. My wallet slips out after and hits the floor with a soft thud, but I don’t take my eyes off her.

“Still sure?” I murmur, even though we’re both already past the point of return.

“Don’t stop,” she whispers.

I thrust into her in one deep, ruthless stroke—and her gasp splits the air.

The noise of us—skin on skin, the slick sounds of bodies colliding, our groans and curses—echoes off the shelves. More books fall with every shift of weight. A lamp topples and rolls onto the rug. Something delicate shatters behind us, glass crackling under my shoes, but I don’t slow down.

I fuck her hard.

Faster. Deeper.

Her heels dig into my back. Her moans rise with every thrust. She’s clinging to me like I’m the only thing holding her together—and maybe I am.

“You were mine the moment I saw you,” I rasp, my forehead pressed to hers. “Don’t pretend otherwise.”

“Harrison…” she whimpers, tightening around me, unraveling from the inside out. She comes apart with a cry she tries to bite back into my shoulder.

I follow with a harsh groan seconds later, thrusting once, twice more before I empty into the condom, my body trembling against hers.

Silence falls.

Except for our ragged breathing. The soft creak of the shelves behind her. The subtle rustling of leaves brushing against the balcony just outside the glass.

And then?—

Laughter. Clinking glasses. A voice beyond the door.

“Has anyone seen Harrison?”

We both freeze, breathless, tangled.

I gently pull out and discard the condom in the trash beneath the bookshelf. She lets her head rest against my shoulder, her body still quaking slightly.

I press kisses down her neck, slower now. Less punishment. More reverence.

“I hate you,” she mumbles into my shirt.

I smile.

“You’ll hate me more if you don’t let me take you back to my penthouse now,” I murmur, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Can we leave and finish this properly?”

She nods, dazed. “Yes… please.”

TWENTY-NINE (B)

ELIZA

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