Page 22 of The Devil's Playground

Another man?

Kieran— no. Miles. Not Kieran. Miles Haines.

“But that,” he says, oblivious to my minor freak-out, “is why I didn’t. When I fuck you, Nic, it won’t be because you’re getting ten grand out of it. That’s not my style. It’ll be because you want me as much as I want you. I thought you did… I thought we had had something. But tonight… you ignored me.”

“I didn’t mean to?—”

“You’re such an adorable liar. Yes, you did. I don’t think you expected me to lose my fucking mind like this, but do you know how hard it was for me to let you go the other night?”

“I… no?”

“Hard,” he says firmly. “And then to watch you walk around in those shorts… you don’t know what you do to me, Nic.”

I honestly had no idea.

“Royce—”

“Devil told me to go for it. If I thought you were down, make a move. What could it hurt?” He laughs ruefully. “Well, tell that to my aching cock. Because I’m fucking fiending for you, and the most I can hope for is a stolen kiss in a supply closed like I’m back in school.”

Bowing his head, forehead pressed against mine, he whispers, “What were you like in school? The goody goody, huh? I bet you never let a guy touch you in a closet like this before.”

He has no idea…

I wasn’t getting fingered in a closet. I was having my twenty-one-year-old boyfriend sneaking into my bed to fuck me.

The same man that refused to ever leave—until I did.

No. No more thinking about Kieran. It’s crazy and it’s reckless, but I’m in this supply closet with Royce McIntyre—and though I’ll probably regret this later, I have the taste of his mouth on mine, and the sudden desire to pretend I’m that goody goody with a kinky side he obsessively hopes I am.

“I don’t know,” I tell him. “Why don’t you touch me now and I’ll see if it rings any bells?”

Royce sucks in a breath.

I nod encouragingly at him. From his expression, it’s clear he never expected me to agree so easily, but I don’t care. He’s the one who wants to fool around in a supply closet?

Sure. Why not?

Taking his hand, I move it in front of my lycra shorts; in the Playground, the heat’s on blast so that we can all forget that it’s fucking freezing outside. It doesn’t take much effort at all to slip his fingers an inch past the material.

He doesn’t have to do any more than that. I called his bluff. He was annoyed I ignored him after dinner with him, and while I desperately want to believe that the only reason he didn’t make a move the other night was because of the money and the bet, I’m not sure I do.

Your move, Royce.

And, oh, does he move.

It happens in a flash. One second, I’m sure he’s going to remind us both that he’s my boss and that we’ve gone far enough—and then he has his fingers sliding through my soaking wet slit, finding my entrance, filling me up with his thick middle finger.

“Ah, that’s my girl. I just knew you’d be able to take me so easily.”

He’s not even talking about his dick. He’s talking about his finger, but from this angle? It could be the same goddamn thing.

“Okay. To be honest, I didn’t think you were actually attracted to me like that,” I gasp, going up on my tiptoes so that Royce can finger me deeper.

Maybe he’s not. Maybe I’m just an obvious target, easy prey, and he decided to have a little fun tonight.

Honestly? I don’t care so long as he keeps doing what he’s doing.

Royce takes my bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling it gently while never slowing in his pace. His middle finger goes in and out leisurely, his thumb circling my clit, sending jolts of pleasure through me.

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