Page 22 of Her Fantasy

“Mister . . .” Mira whined.

Mr. Roderick pulled away from me with a frustrated groan, straightened himself, and adjusted the crotch of his pants. “Well, Michael, don't feel rushed to leave. I'm sorry if we offended either of you. I'll see you at our next meeting, okay?”

They left the room, closing the door behind them.

Michael released a slow exhale, probably worried he'd lost his client over what had happened...or what hadn’t happened. I leaned over to grab my dress, but he snatched it away from me.

“Not yet.” Michael dropped my dress to the floor as he stood in front of me, wiping lipstick from around my mouth. His thumb trailed along my lower lip, sending a shiver through me. It was my favorite thing men did in the books I read. That possessive touch that made me certain he was thinking about my mouth on him.

“I can’t watch you with another man,” Michael said through a clenched jaw. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. He wrapped his arms around me and inhaled a deep breath as if he'd been preparing for this moment. “I knew what kind of party this was. I wanted to give you a special night. I tried, but I can’t do it.” His hand eased between my legs, rubbing my slick clit. “You’re mine, Zoey. And I know the things you want. I’ve read parts of the books you read. You think I wouldn’t wonder what makes my wife disappear for hours on end? I know you want spontaneity and roughness.” Michael fisted my hair and craned my neck. “You want me to fuck you like I’m not me,” he said against my mouth as he leaned in and kissed me. “You want me to push you down.” He turned me around and forced me onto my knees on the couch. I held onto the back of it for support. “You want me to spread your legs.” He pushed my thighs apart with a rough jerk of his knee. “And you need me to fuck you like I want nothing more than to use you. To hurt you. Like I don’t love you.”

I gasped as he leaned into me and surged inside me. I was wet as hell, flooding further from the growl within his words, a feral dialect I had never heard in his voice before.

Michael grinded his hips into me, pushing his cock as deep as he could go. He fucked me hungrily, like he wanted nothing more than to unload inside me. He didn’t care about rubbing me or making me come. His only focus was holding back my screams as he pounded into me harder than I’d ever felt. He growled against my neck as he slowed his thrusts, pushing deeper into me until I felt like he would burst through me.

“I’m not coming in your pussy, sweet girl.” His voice made me melt. “I want to come on your face and in your mouth,” he said with a groan.

I froze, shocked by the desire woven through his words. Michael grabbed my arm and dragged me off the couch. He fisted my hair before grabbing my shoulder and forcing me to my knees on the rough floor. He shoved his cock in my mouth, still wet from being inside me. I tasted myself and what his words had done to me. What his touch had done to me. I gagged as he held the back ofmy head in a firm grasp and pulsed his hips against my face with no inhibition. Carelessly. Selfishly.

“Good girl,” he whispered as he dropped his head back. “Such a good fucking girl.” He gripped himself and pulled away. “Open your mouth,” he commanded. With the way he spoke, I would do just aboutanythinghe asked me to do.Anything.

I spread my lips and stuck out my tongue, looking up at him with big, dark eyes. I watched him rub his cock in long, sensual strokes. His lips parted as he focused on the head of his dick. I stared at his perfect hands as they worked him up to spill his load into my mouth. It was incredible to watch. It was mouthwatering. It made me anticipate every drop.

“Sweet girl,” he groaned. I knew he was close. I knew his breathy exhale more than I knew my own signals. He snatched my head back and growled as he came on my tongue and smeared the head of himself against my lips. “Don’t swallow yet,” he said as I kept my tongue out, enjoying the salty taste of him dripping from the tip. He looked so unlike himself, uninhibited in ways I'd never seen from him. I loved it.

He leaned down and reached into his pocket, tugging out his cellphone. I looked at him with a surprised cock of my eyebrow. Michael was such a rule follower, so I couldn’t believe he’d broken the one decree within these walls. With a grin, he turned on the camera and took a picture of me—naked, on my knees, and with his come dripping onto my chest.

Is this really happening right now?Could Michael be fulfilling the most deeply rootedfantasy I've had?

“Swallow, but don’t wipe your lips off,” he growled. “I want you to keep me on them. I want you to taste me the rest of the night. On the ride home. When we get home. I want you to remember you’re mine.”