Page 114 of Manhattan Secret

Lachlan hisses between his teeth, glaring at the intruder. “Get out, Hoyt, now! And close the fucking door.”

Hoyt laughs, seeing what’s happening, color staining my cheeks, but I can’t push Lachie away, nothing again will make me do that.

He closes the door, but not before he winks at me.

I realize Lachlan needs to punish me.

While he growls and breathes fire like a dragon in my face, his hand working between my legs, sending debris of pleasure through every inch of my body— the way his eyes pin mine, he needs this power over me.

So that’s what I do.

I give my sweet, angry man-boy all the power he desires in order to put me in my place, by cocking my hips forward and rubbing my soaked pussy on his hand.

He grunts, holding me tighter with his hand on my throat. As angry as Lachie is, I know he will never hurt me in any physical way. His thumb works the edge of my jaw almost as if he doesn’t know he’s caressing me at the same time as finger-fucking me.

I moan his name. “Lachlan … please.”

“Pleasewhat, Miss Sloan? Please fuck you like I used to over your pristine girl bed? Or finger you in my car while you made me hide from everyone? What about when I had you in the bathroom stall?”

On and on his onslaught continues.

Dirty words twine around his fingers pushing and slamming inside me. I feel my wetness coating his two plunging fingers. My jeans don’t give him much room, so each thrust makes his palm hit my clit.

My eyes water at the same time my mouth falls open, my head connects to the wall. I think I plead out words of need.

The cold, feral look in his eyes kills me.

He used to look at me with so much love.

And now it’s gone.

I touch the wrist at my throat, “I’m sorry I hurt you, Lachie.” Hoping my words penetrate through his angry fog, “you don’t have to do this,” I say even as my body buckles with pleasure.

I’ve missed his strong, sure hands.

The hands that could have me talking in tongues because they make me feel so good.

His hip knocks into my stomach and his hardness shocks me. My eyes widen.

“Don’t worry,” he sneers the side of his lip, curling his fingers he touches my trigger spot and I cry out at the same time he nails my coffin shut. “It’s not for you.”

“Who then?” I fire back, pushing the immovable chest in front of me. My fingers gripping his shirt. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to your girls? They’ll be missing you.” Wanting him to deny what I’ve seen.

Tell me they mean nothing to you.

“They’ll wait.”

My heart strangles.

I gave my heart to this man and it’s his to break as he wants.

It goes along with the trust you hand to another person when you fall unequivocally in love. You realize your heart and soul no longer belong to you, they’re in someone else’s care now.

I see the hurt I’ve caused him, hanging out in the back of his eyes behind the angry mask and that’s my crux to bear.

“Punish me then,” I whisper, not looking from his eyes.

I’ve hurt the one who showed me nothing but love and loyalty.

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