Page 34 of The FBI Agents Who Stole Me

“Wear my cum all day,” he tells me, voice filthy against the back of my neck.

“Don’t you dare clean it up or change these panties. I want you walking around feeling me leak out of you with every step. I want you to remember exactly who put it there while you pretend nothing happened.”

Then he zips up, unlocks the door, and leaves without another word or a single look back.

I stand there on unstable legs with my skirt still hiked up and his cum already soaking into my panties, trying to remember how to breathe.

When the oxygen comes back to my brain, I smooth out my skirt and force myself to walk out.

At the meeting, I present my case like nothing happened.

I keep my eyes on the screen. Then focus on my notes. I look at anything but him.

But I feel that cocky smirk the whole fucking time, and I feel him leaking out of me with every breath.

A knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts.

I swing the door open.

“Cal, you didn’t have to⁠—”

Only it isn’t Calum with the soup I figured Georgie sent him with. It’s Elliot Ryker himself, looking handsome as sin. His blond hair is pushed to the side, and his dimple is out to wreak havoc on my clit.

He smiles at me then extends his arms, holding the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

“A cat?”

He nods and pushes the black-and-white furball closer to me.

“He’s a tuxedo cat. He’s very distinguished, and he came straight from the shelter.”

I take the cat, and he grabs the large bag that was set outside of my apartment.

“Why do you know where I live? And why did you bring your cat?”

I bring him up to my face, and he purrs.

“I love him. You got a good one.”

He pulls me in and shuts the door behind me.

“He’s yours. And FBI, remember? I can find where my partner lives. Cool place,” he says and looks around.

“You bought me a cat?” My voice catches when I ask.

He looks at me concerned. In three strides, he’s right in front of me.

“You needed him. You’re so sad,” he says and swipes under my cheek.

I nod and pull the kitten up to my face and squish him. Squishes from cat faces can cure almost anything.

He leans over to me, careful of the kitten, and gives me a kiss. I let him because he’s being sweet. He bought me a cat, and he’s here, and he noticed I was sad.

“Want to talk about it, baby?”

And then I lose it. Like ugly cry sob. He takes the kitten from me and puts him down then pulls out a cat toy from the giant bag.

The kitten pounces on it and starts exploring.