I feel my cheeks go red. “Please.” The word slips out of me faster than it ever has in my life.
I don’t even have time to regret it, because in the next second, Brandon is driving himself into me. I let out a scream as he starts to pummel me, his fingers wrapping themselves loosely around my throat to keep me upright as he thrusts in and out of me.
I let out yell after yell, loving everything about this; the way he’s lightly shocking me, his second set of fingers working at my nipples, the fact that he’s still almost fully clothed while I’m naked.
I’ve neverhad sex this way, and it sure beats all of my other sexual encounters.
“Fuck, Gigi,” he gasps in my ear, and I can tell he’s seconds from spilling himself into me.
I arch back against him, already feeling my orgasm pushing closer as well. Bran seems to know because his fingers let go of my nipples and start to work on my clitoris. I let out a yell, only seconds from collapsing in his arms.
And then, Bran mutters in my ear, “You’ve got to stop.”
Stop what?I think, but I’m too deep in the throes of pleasure to say the words.
He seems to read my mind. “Stop writing about my brother. About me.” His hold tightens for a fraction of a second on my throat, and then he relaxes once more. “Okay?”
What?
For a second, I try to convince myself he didn’t just say that.But then, I realize Bran has stopped thrusting into me, as though he’s waiting for an answer.
I leap away from him, my desire fizzling faster than I would have ever imagined.
“What the fuck?” I scream at him, hardly believing what just happened. That he just came into my home and literally tried toscrewme into not doing my job.
He stares at me, not looking the slightest bit apologetic.
I reach downwards and yank my tracksuit top to cover my nudity. I’ve never felt so disgusted with myself.
Ever.
“I need you to stop posting those articles,” he says. “I like you, and we have a lot of fun together. ButI am not going to be able to screw you while knowing what you’re doing to my brother’s campaign.”
My head is filled with a buzzing noise. I can barely hear him, barely even think.
What I can do though, is speak.
“Get the hell out of my house,” I scream.
CHAPTER15
GIGI
“Gigi! You look…good.”
Danielle means well. But I don’t look good. I don’t even look well.
“Yeah,” Brenda, one of our co-workers, chirps from the cubicle directly across from mine. “Bold choice with your hairstyle.”
I dump my purse on my desk and collapse in my chair, glancing at my hair on my phone camera. It is a hot mess. I haven’t been shopping in a few weeks and have used up all my remaining hair product, squeezing dollops of frizz-taming hair oil from empty bottles. Today, I’d been too exhausted to even do that. I hopped in the shower and bravely decided to go along with whatever happened. The result was a rat’s nest I hid under an ugly old hat my mother gave me for Christmas eight years ago.
“So…” Danielle says, slithering up against the wall that separates our cubicles. “Did you find anything new to write about the Stawarskis? It’s been a while.”
At the sound of his name, pain shoots through my chest. “Not yet,” I say, almost snapping at her. If a genie descended right now and asked me to wish for anything, I’d ask her to make sure no oneever mentioned the name Stawarski again.
But as I turn on my monitor, the first thing that pops up is an email from Hayley reminding me that I should have turned in a Stawarski article yesterday.
I close my eyes against the sudden headache that pulses in my skull.