Page 59 of Texting the CEO's Obsession
“I knew you were dirty, Princess,” he murmurs as he scratches a blunt nail down the paper. “But I had no idea how much of a littleslutyou are for me.”
My breath hitches at the heat in his voice, the way his free hand reaches up to rest possessively around my throat, sending arousal flooding my veins.
I never thought I’denjoybeing spoken to like this. The fantasies of it were fun, but I always thought it would make me feel dirty in a bad way if it happened in real life. This, though? This makes me feel sexy.
Powerful.
Even so, it does nothing to curb the embarrassment sitting heavily in my gut.
“I—you weren’t supposed to see this,” I whisper, humiliated. “I swear, Nick, they’re just fantasies. I never?—”
He cuts me off with a disappointed hum, the fingers around my throat flexing just enough to stall my words.
“Is that so?” He drawls the words, disbelieving and teasing in equal measure, and turns his head to raise a brow at me. “So youdon’twant me to make you clean your own come off my cock after I wreck your pretty pussy?”
That same mix of arousal and embarrassment floods me, but the embarrassment fades quickly at the hungry look in his eyes. The arousal, on the other hand, only mounts until I can do nothing but squirm in his lap, uncomfortably wet and needy.
I can’t manage to force words out, but Nick smirks, understanding my predicament immediately.
He snaps the journal shut and tosses it on his desk, and for a sinking moment, I think he’s going to let it go. Then he leans back in his chair and that filthy grin stretches even wider across his handsome face.
“Up,” he says, his hips twitching against mine to get me moving.
I spring up from my seat in his lap and turn to face him on shaky legs. My mouth waters at the unmistakable bulge in his slacks and the dark, dangerous look in those blue-grey eyes. Nick never really lookssoft, but he looks sharper than ever right now, staring at me like he wants to eat me alive and leave nothing behind.
“Strip, Miss Morgan.”
My breath hitches at the casual, careless way the command slips from his lips.
I glance behind me at the locked door of his office, then back to him, where he’s drumming his fingers in a controlled rhythm against the glossy top of his desk.
“Here?” I ask.
“Here,” he confirms, arching a brow at me impatiently. “Strip.”
I shiver at the unyielding, expectant tone, and my hands move to obey before I can voice any further hesitation. This is much more private than the conference room was, and that knowledge only serves to pump more adrenaline through my veins.
“Yes, sir.”
His eyes never leave my body as I shyly tug my sweater up, baring my waist and then my lacy pink bra.
The way his lips twitch at the sight of it is enough to remind me of the fact that the matching panties are still in his pocket. My sex clenches around nothing as I pull my sweater all the way off and let it drop to the ground beside me. Nick watches intently as I reach for the clasp of my bra, his own hands reaching up to tug at his tie.
He loosens it a few inches and pops open the top few buttons of his shirt, just enough to show off a glimpse of his muscled chest, dark hair shadowed between his pecs.
I pull my bra off with trembling hands, my nerves only serving to make this whole situation even hotter. Nick hums a hungry little sound as my breasts are bared, dropping his hand to rub over his hard cock through his slacks.
“Keep going, Princess,” he urges, low and sinful as he flicks his belt open.
I step out of my shoes and reach behind my back to find the zipper of my skirt, watching as he tugs at the buttons and zipper of his slacks. By the time I get my own zipper down, he’s fishing his cock out, his thumb rubbing teasingly over the bead of precome pearling along the tip.
He stops there, grinning as I flit my tongue out to wet my lips in obvious desire.
It’s only as I start to slide my skirt down over my hips that I realize he doesn’t intend to strip any further, and a wave of need slams into me. He’s following the ridiculous little fantasy I wrote to the letter, just waiting for me to catch on.
When the scene comes to me, I pivot to face his desk, bending over slightly as I continue to work my skirt down. He groans low in his throat in approval, and I toss a grin over my shoulder. Now that I know the game we’re playing, I knowexactlywhat comes next.
I peel my skirt down inch by inch, showing off my lack of panties and the gleam of wetness between my thighs.
