Beg Me
“But you wanted to,” he says.
“I do,” I admit. “But don’t get your hopes up. I’m not your saving grace.”
“All right,” he sighs. “We’ll call it off then.”
“Let’s just see what happens. Sometimes lust is a tricky thing,” I say.
It’s not a talk I want to have. I doubt any woman does. But it’s needed. We have set the boundaries.
He’s a man who fucks the life out of me when I ask. I’ve never had that before, and I think I like it more than being trapped in a bad relationship.
I’ve dated men like him. Rich and powerful. It never works out the way you think it might. My last relationship… ugh.
I just don’t even want to go there again.
He shakes his head and puts on an undershirt. “You play hard to get,” he says.
He’s right. I want him to beg for me. If I’m worth as much as he lets on, he’ll keep fighting.
I put my hand around the door handle and push my ass back. “I’m just a girl who knows her worth,” I say. “That’s all.”
“I’ll see you out,” he says.
“I’m all right. Plus, I think you need to get dressed,” I laugh.
When I open the door, he walks into his bathroom, lest anyone see his naked lower half.
Yeah, my hair is wild, and everyone is looking in my direction.
They’re probably thinking, “Did that slut just spend forty-five minutes in his office with him?”
That’s right. I did.
Rocco
Meeting her was the best and worst idea I’ve ever had.
I’m convinced she’s crazier than I am. Perhaps I’ve found my match.
That little session we had earlier put a nail into my day. After I had her, appointments flooded in, left and right.
From the hall, Johnson, one of my trustees, nods in my direction. “Where were you for our twelve o’clock?”
“Swamped,” I say.
He chuckles. “You and me both, brother.”
Our 12 o’clock? Did I have a twelve o’clock set up? I’m working overtime on papers I shouldn’t be dealing with at this late hour.
I throw my last paper down and check my phone. I’ve been flirting with Madison all night, dreaming about those thighs. Every part of her body is to be worshiped daily.
I’m thinking my next hotel chain will be called The Madison. Why not? It’s got a nice ring to it.
Another round of texts.
“What do you even want with me? I mean, why do you think you’re so special, that you can just claim any woman you want?”
Because that’s who I am. I get what I want. Didn’t she read the memo?