Page 35 of The Billionaire's Wake-up-call Girl

I stare at the phone.What I want with you.He wants a thing with me? Also, a little bit rough and real as dirt? The room seems to spin. “Real as dirt?” I manage.

“Do you think I’m the kind of man who gives you flowers?”

I think about Mason. The flowers he’d give me. The lying flowers. “If you gave me flowers, I’d rip them up.”

He grumbles. It’s that approving grumble again.

“I’d rip them up and throw them away,” I add.

“I might enjoy seeing you do that.”

I feel my face heat. “Before or after you rip off my clothes?”

“Before,” he grumbles. “Trust me, once I rip off your clothes, you won’t be thinking about flowers.”

“Okay,” I breathe.

“I’d have your legs so wide apart. My fingers so deep in you, my thumb plying your clit so perfectly, you’d be seeing stars. Are you touching yourself right now? Tell me you’re there.”

“I’m not sure if we’re actually doing that yet,” I say. In truth, I haven’t touched myself in a proper way since Mason. A few sessions with the vibrator to blow off steam. Nothing long or luxurious. I’m a little afraid to let a guy in, but I love this energy between us. And luckily, it’s anonymous.

“Go ahead,” he says. “It’s my fingers there, and it’s what I’m doing now. I would play you like a harp.”

“In a nest of torn clothes.”

“You wouldn’t care that your perfect pajamas are in shreds around you. You’d just be desperate for what I can give you. Begging me for more and more. I’d enjoy you begging me for my cock. That sexy, raspy voice of yours would get me so hard.”

Mr. Drummond is a complete freak.

And I’ve never wanted anybody more.

I press my hand between my legs. Total sensation jackpot. “You are so pompous to think I’d beg.”

“But I’m right. You know I am.”

“Because you’re god’s gift to women?”

“To the ones I fuck.”

I smile. He’s such an arrogant asshole, and I so want him. My whole body feels pleasantly warm. “LOL,” I breathe softly, picturing him glowering in his white lab coat, all beautiful and evil and imperious.

“I’d get you so wet, your pussy dripping to get me in there. And you’d be begging me so hard, you wouldn’t care what you sounded like. You’d do anything to get more of whatever I decide to do to you. And your clit would be warm and slick and a little bit stiff under my touch. God, the way I’d work you…”

“It was your thumb,” I say. “You were doing me with your thumb.”

“You liked that thumb?”

“I like a certain amount of conscientiousness. Harps require attention to finger placement; that’s what I’m saying here.”

“Baby, when I’m doing you, you won’t be worrying about hand choreography.” There’s a pause where I think I hear him breathing, like he feels as aroused as I do. “Your entire universe would shrink to whatever I’m doing to you with my fingers.”

I slip my hand under the elastic of my sleep pants. My fingers find my clit.

“It’ll be all you can do to survive the sheer pleasure overload while I make you ready for me.”

“Yeah?” I say.

“Oh, yeah.” I hear the smile in his voice. It’s like he knows. “You’re wet for me right now, aren’t you? You’re about to combust. If I were there, I could get you off with one touch. Maybe even a puff of air.”

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