Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 49814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 249(@200wpm)___ 199(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 249(@200wpm)___ 199(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
His hand slips between the desk and my body, his thumb pressing against my clit.
I choke on his name, detonating like a bomb. The whole world goes white as I erupt around him, unable to hold it off.
He grunts a curse, fucking me like a madman. One thrust. Two. Three.
"Constance," he groans, my voice like a song on his lips as he goes rigid beneath me, his body bowed over mine. I feel every twitch of his cock, every quiver, as he spills into me, draining himself dry.
I'm still whimpering through aftershocks when he tugs my thong from my mouth, pulling me down onto his lap in my chair. He buries his face in my hair, his arms wrapped around me like he's never going to let me go, and inhales a deep breath.
"Missed you today," he whispers.
And I realize…I missed him, too. So damn bad.
Chapter Six
Bastian
"We're going to karaoke."
I glance up at Oliver, my brows furrowed. "What?"
"Karaoke," he repeats. "Lucy said to tell you that you aren't allowed to get out of it this year. And that you have to bring Constance or Aunt Luna might accidentally find out that she saw Constance leaving your place three mornings in a row."
"Jesus Christ." My face falls into a scowl. "Is your wife blackmailing me?"
"Yep." He links his fingers together behind his head, all proud, husbandly smile and wicked amusement. "She's brilliant, isn't she?"
"She's fucking diabolical, is what she is." I shake my head, not entirely surprised she's threatening to spill the beans to my mom. Lucy is a tiny little pixie with a heart as big as the state—and she's never satisfied unless everyone around her is as happy as she is.
It's precisely why Ridley is currently stomping around like someone kicked his puppy. Paisley Molina is here, and he hasn't seen her since she disappeared the morning he went to buy her a ring a few years ago. Until recently, the man wouldn't even come home from Italy because of what happened between the two of them.
"You don't have to come," Oliver says. "There will be consequences, obviously. But it's totally your call. You do you."
I lift my middle finger, flipping him off. "We'll be there, you prick. And tell your wife to stop staking out my property. It's weird."
"She isn't staking it out. She's pregnant. She pees a lot. It's not her fault she can see your house from the bathroom window."
"Still weird," I mutter.
Oliver just laughs, completely unbothered.
"Is that why you're in here bugging me?"
"Pretty much."
I grunt, not really surprised. I swear to Christ, the only time my cousins ever darken the doorway to my office is when they want to annoy the fuck out of me. It'd be amusing if it didn't irritate the shit out of me, which, I suspect, is precisely why they do it. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised to find they've made a game of seeing who can piss me off the most every week. God only knows what the winner gets.
"Message delivered. Now, get out."
"Why?" He smirks. "You have plans or something?"
I eye him levelly, not about to walk into that trap. I don't know why Constance is so adamant about my cousins not finding out that we're fucking all over my office, but she's unwavering on that front. Frankly, it's starting to piss me off a little. I have no interest in hiding that we're together, but every time she thinks we're going to be caught, she gets this panicked look in her eyes.
I wish like hell that she'd talk to me about what's going on in her head, but she won't. And as much as I want to force an answer out of her, I'm trying like hell to be patient and do things the right way here. That means not being an autocratic asshole who pushes and demands and does everything his way. If I want her to fall in love with me, I have to give her space to accept that I'm not going anywhere. I can't rush her into trusting me with her heart, as much as I want to do exactly that.
But fuck me, every day, she tips me a little closer to the edge. I don't want her down the hall all day, pretending we aren't fucking every time I can get my hands on her. I want her in here with me, on my lap. On my cock. Sprawled across my fucking desk, making a mess of the paperwork on top of it.
Fuck the rules. I want to make my own.
"Constance sure has been cleaning her office a lot lately," Oliver says, still smirking at me. "I believe there was even broken glass the other day. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
"Oliver, if you don't get the fuck out of my office, I swear to Christ, the next thing your wife sees from your bathroom window will be an eight-foot replica of my dick painted on my garage door."