Page 54 of The Billionaire's Wake-up-call Girl

“Intense. Close.” I’ve never been so turned on. I suddenly want FaceTime on. I want to connect with him. I want him to text me a picture of himself right now. I want to see him. I want to kiss him.

“It was always going to happen,” he breathes. “I was always going to have you. But I don’t have enough of you. I close my hand over your top, fragile and silky. You’re shivering under me, knowing what I’m about to do.”

“Oh my god,” I say. The clothes ripping.

“You know,” he says.

“You can be hard if you want.”

“I can’t be any other way with you. I yank the fabric, tear it down the middle.”

I close my eyes, speeding up. Mr. Drummond, ripping my clothes, so desperate for my pussy. “Yeah.”

“It hurts a little when I rip it, because of how hard I have to yank, but you like it. Because this is way too real. I’m ripping your pj pants, destroying your panties. I have your nipple in my lips before you can stop me.”

“Ungh,” I breathe, getting my other hand into the act, fingers scissoring over my nipple. Am I really doing this?

“How hard?” he asks. “Tell me. I always make you tell me everything.”

“Medium hard,” I whisper. “A tiny bit of pain. Just enough to surprise me. No more.” I pinch my nipple.

“Like that,” he whispers.

“Like that,” I say, enjoying our dirty mind meld. Like he knows where my hands are. “Yes.”

“I’m back at your clothes, pulling them off you. I don’t give a shit, I have to get you naked for what I’m going to do to you, how I’m going to use your body. The cool air hits your skin. You’re quivering below me. Of course, I haven’t even bothered to take off my lab coat.”

“Because you’re an asshole.”

“An asshole who has you totally bared and exposed under him. And I can’t believe how beautiful you are like that. I’m doing you how I want.”

“And I’m into it, but a little angry, still,” I say.

He hisses out a breath. I love that we’re co-creating this. And that he’s as into it as I am. Is he touching himself? He seems so focused on me, it’s hard to tell.

“You can’t believe you’d fuck somebody like me, because you hate me a little bit, but it’s what you need. My lab coat hangs open over you, and sometimes it grazes your skin. I’m the asshole who is going crazy to fuck you.”

“Like some savage,” I say.

“I’ll make you beg, just because I can. Then I’ll make you come until you cry. Because I’m the asshole who makes it good for you. Get on your back. Get your legs wider,” he says.

I do it. I do everything he says, there in the dark of my room. “Right here.”

“Not yet,” he whispers. “I’m not done with you. Not done kissing your pretty cunt. You can feel my scar so acutely. You squirm around, but I clamp my rough hands down on your silky thighs. Press you open to me. So good.”

“Yes,” I say.

“I can hear you breathing, I know you feel it. Now listen—two fingers now. Go a little harder than you normally would. That’s me, taking a good long lick. Again.”

I do it again. Shudder.

“You’re almost gone. You’re trying to hold it together, but you can’t. This asshole you disdain has utter and complete control of you.”

I’m panting. Going with it.

“You’re close, Seven.” His voice winds around me, warm and rough. “So fucking close.”

I’m shamelessly panting, breath sawing in and out.

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