Page 10 of Sold to Her Enemy

Because the damn spanks arrows to my pussy, making it clench, reminding me of how needy it is to be filled.

“You said objectification, and we will start with this. You will stay exactly like this. Keep your head down while I check tonight’s arrangements are in order. Don’t you dare spill my drink.”

I curse my body for betraying me because I am a mess of hungry need. To be used by this man? That was once a dream. But now it’s the last thing I want and the wave of shame mixed with my arousal that rolls through my body makes me want to scream. He set the glass on the base of my spine, sits back, stretches out, and put the heel of his foot on me.

“This is where you belong, Mckenna, under me.” He digs his heel into my ass and I shudder, wetness gushes between my legs.

I hate this man who is using me as a footstool and a table for his drink.

He drags his foot along my back, brushes it against the glass. I whimper, fearing that he’s going to on-purpose spill his drink, but he continues to brush it up my back, resting his hard heel on my shoulder.

I hate that I am here, under Adrian McIntyre’s foot, at his beck and call all weekend.

But the silence as he reads on his phone gives me the space to run plans through my head, even as my ass is burning and my body is heated with pleasure.

My father taught me to always have a backup plan, which is ironic because, in the end, he didn’t.

Whenever I wanted to do anything, like enter the next horse jumping competition or go to a friend’s house, he’d quiz me.

“What’s your plan, Mckenna?”

I’d tell myself, and then he’d hold his chin in his hand and peer at me over his black-framed glasses. “And if that fails, what are you going to do?”

I can’t run out of here right now; that would cause too much fuss, and it would end without me having the money.

But if I wait it out and look for an opportunity to leave, I could get some funds transferred to my mother.

Even if Club Lust comes after me for fraud or something, a legal proceeding will take months, and by then, I can fix it — this whole mess. Adrian lifts the glass off my back, and I exhale in relief. He presses his heel against my shoulder. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. He removes his foot from my shoulder, stomps it down on the ground, and thankfully, I stay still.

I don’t want to give this man reason to torment me.

“Turn.”

Adrian’s rich voice has me snapping back to the present.

I turn so that I am facing him on the sofa.

The anger in his gaze and the stiffness of his posture are minor reflections of how I feel. He shouldn’t be angry. He ruined my life.

Holding my gaze, he tips his glass, allowing some liquid to fall on his shoe.

My heart flutters wildly against my chest, making me feel like a caged animal wanting to escape.

“Lick it clean.”

My nipples are so hard under my camisole, the fabric almost hurts them. I close my eyes. I can’t do this. I am not going to lick Adrian’s shoe.

“You’re lucky I am not asking you to do this in public. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

But I can’t move; I am frozen, watching the liquid on Adrian’s shoe slowly slide off the top to where the leather meets the sole.

He leans forward and pushes my head down so my nose touches his brushed leather Oxford shoe.

Never have I hated myself more than this second when my tongue darts out, hitting the shiny spot on the shoe.

Shame, poker hot rolls through my body, heating my face.

“That’s a good shoe licker. It’s the only thing you’re good for. That and fucking because I am going to use every hole you have.”

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