Page 17 of Pretty Little Threats

Grabbing her leg through the slit in the gown, I wrap it around my waist and claim her mouth, forcing my tongue past those sassy lips until she moans, the sound traveling through me and straight to my cock.

She’s the daughter of my enemy, and I’ll fuck her like she’s one.

As my fingers trace along the line of her thong, she gasps. “Your alarm clock,” she says, breaking the kiss.

Pulling back, I search her face. “What?”

“Wake up.” Her palm cracks across my cheek and I jolt awake.

My chest heaves as I blink, sucking in air and recovering from the dream I shouldn’t be having. It takes me a moment to shake off sleep, but when I do, I realize I’m painfully hard.

Groaning and scrubbing my hand over my face, I try to expel all thoughts of Rose from my mind. Except, the more I try to force her out, the more I picture the way she stared up at me.

My dick throbs.

Fuck me.

There’s no way I’m jacking off to the memory of Rose Miller, but this erection isn’t going anywhere. I struggle out of the bed and head into the bathroom to start the shower.

She’s the enemy, but she’s also hot as fuck.

That mouth. Those curves. Those full tits. That ass. Worst of all, the way her pulse flutters as she faces me head-on. She tries to be brave when she talks back to me, but I felt the way her heart rate sped up the longer I held her in place. I caught the way her pupils blew wide.

And knowing I have the power to make the ice princess feel something is intoxicating.

My cock throbs again, and against all better judgment, I wrap my hand around it and stroke one out to the idea of putting Rose Miller in her place. It’s the hardest I’ve come in a long time.

Though I should leave it alone, part of me wants to see her again, to watch her bristle at my presence and hear every acidic word she wants to say to me.

Because, if I can remember she’s the enemy, maybe I’ll get the idea of bending her over out of my head.

five

ROSE

I’ve beenin a bad mood since Dare left me on the terrace. All weekend, his words ran through my head, tormenting my every waking moment.

The princess.

The pawn.

The fool.

He has no idea how hard I’ve worked. I have a master’s in finance and international management, and even before I got that shiny piece of paper, declaring me worthy enough to work at JD Miller & Co, I spent years learning the ins and outs of Dad’s business.

I grew up learning how to court prospective companies. Learned how to bargain to get the best terms. Learned how to be a woman in a man’s world. But Dare? As far as I can tell, all he’s studied is how to be a menace.

Glaring down at the open sketch pad, I sip my coffee and try to figure out what I got wrong. For all intents and purposes, Dare is staring back at me, but there’s somethingmissing. A spark of darkness I’m not quite sure how to capture.

Coffee sloshes over the side of my cup when I slam it onto the table beside my drawing. I rip the sheet off and crumple it, tossing it into the trash can, alongside another half dozen attempts to put the beast on paper.

I thought drawing him would help me work through my irritation, but all it’s done is make me angrier. I hate when I can’t get a sketch right.

Showing up to work in a foul mood on the day of a board meeting isn’t ideal, but duty has me abandoning my coffee and slipping into form-fitting gray slacks and a high-neck, dark blue blouse that doesn’t show any cleavage. Boobs in a boardroom? Forget about it. There are two other women on the board, and like me, they’ve had the pleasure of learning that the boys don’t take you seriously if your tits are out.

Shrugging into my business jacket, I pause and check myself out in the full-length mirror. I curled my long brunette hair and kept my makeup simple. The boldest thing about my look is the sweep of burgundy lipstick.

Corporate Barbie, at your service.

---