Page 42 of Boardroom Mask

“You feel—” He thrusts harder, a snap of his hips that has me seeing stars. “Fuck. You feelunreal.Your cunt is milking me, little fox. You’re pulsing around me.”

He fucks crazed sounds out of me one at a time. None of them make a bit of sense, except for the fact that they makeperfectsense: They’re for him and him alone.

The Masked Man.

My stalker, my shadow, my would-be killer, fucking me into hazy-eyed oblivion.

He drops to his elbows, which puts his masked face is right above mine, those gray eyes locked on me, and the intimacy of it—the sustained, unbroken eye contact while he moves inside me—is suddenly more than I can take. I can see too much in his eyes and he can see too much in mine. If I stay here one more second, I’m going to crack wide open in a way I can’t put back together.

I press my hands against his chest and push. He stops mid-stroke.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No. No, I just— Flip me over. I need to—I can’t?—”

I wriggle away, twist under him, and roll onto my stomach, then push up to my hands and knees. The tile is wet under my palms now, from my sweat and juices.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He sounds angry now. His hand palms my hip. “Look at me.”

“I can’t.” My fingers curl against the floor. “Please. Just—like this. Please. I need it like this.”

“You need me to fuck you where you can’t see me.”

“Yes.”

A long pause. His grip on my hip tightens.

“You’re going to regret that,” he warns. “Because now, I don’t have to be gentle.”

Both hands seize my hips and he slams back into me. I cry out, my elbows buckling, my forehead dropping to the cold tile. The angle is deeper this way. He fills me completely on every stroke and I take it, all of it, face pressed to the floor, fingers spread flat against the tile.

“This what you wanted?” He pulls out to the tip and drives forward. “To hide from me?”

I moan into the floor.

“Answer me.”

“Yes…”

“Then take it. If you want me to fuck you like an animal, then I’ll give you that.”

He is a man of his word, because he starts to fuck down into me like he’d break through the floor if he could.

“Harder,” I gasp.

He gives it to me. I choke on the impact and push back into him, meeting him, wanting more. One of his hands leaves my hip and fists in my hair, yanking my head back off the tile.

“You want to hide? Fine. Hide. But your body can’t lie to me, little fox.” He delves in deep and holds there, grinding, and I feel every inch of him pressed against my cervix. “I feel you squeezing me. Every time I open my mouth, your pussy gets tighter. You’re getting off on this, aren’t you? Youlikewhen I talk dirty to you. And you fuckinglovebeing facedown on your floor, getting railed by a man whose name you don’t even know.”

He pulls back and slams forward and I yelp.

“You’re dripping down my cock. There’s a puddle on the floor under you. You know that, right? You’re making a fucking mess of yourself for me and you love it. I didn’t ask nicely and you love that. You love that I climbed through your window and put you on your knees and made you beg, because nobody else has ever had the nerve to do that, have they? Nobody else has ever looked at you and seen what I see.”

His fist tightens in my hair. His hips pick up speed.

“I see all of you, Jillian Pierce. The parts you show the world and the parts you don’t, the ones you locked away. I see them and I want every single one. Give them to me. I want you feral and I want you soft and I want youruined, and you’re going to give me all of it, because you already are. Right now. On this floor. You’re giving me everything and you can’t stop.”

Ican’tstop. He’s right. The second orgasm builds without my permission, a sharp spike of overwhelming heat low in my belly that expands outward fast.