Page 265 of Damaged Mogul
Baby steps…
Gage challenged me to go after what I want in life. So, I did.
I’m a self-taught jewelry designer. If I want to make my dream a reality and honor Mom’s memory, I need formal training.
Between school, the sisterhood, my new friends, and living with the man I love more than anything in the world, moving to LA was the best decision.
“You want my big cock to fill your cunt?”
My lips part in a slow smile. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
Sex on legs Gage Hollingsworth…
The man in a suit? Be still my beating heart.
The man dressed like a blue-collar hunk? Be still my pulsating ovaries.
Dressed up or dressed down, he exudes badassness and power.
He toys with my braid. “You’re going to pay for taunting me, Mrs. Robinson.”
The expression on his handsome face causes my clit to tingle.
It’s dark, primal, and feral.
He moves so fast, I don’t have time to blink.
He grabs me, turns me around in his arms, presses a large hand between my shoulder blades, and leans me over the countertop of the kitchen island.
I let out a long satisfying exhale when he presses his chest against my back and his massive erection rubs against my ass.
Heaven.
And there’s the subtle woodsy notes of his cologne.
Masculine.
Refined.
Expensive.
The scent is heady as fuck and it drives me insane with need. More than his closeness and the bulge between his legs, that more than anything, is my demise.
“You’re a fucking tease, Mrs. Robinson.”
The coolness of the granite countertop should dampen the five-alarm fire burning inside me, but it doesn’t. I’m this close from combusting.
I pant. “I deserve to be punished.”
“Yes, you do. And I’m going to enjoy punishing you. And I’m going to relish every fucking second of it.”
“Yes. Please.”
“No wonder you refuse to pay me. Did you use the money you owe me to buy the cock-hardening lingerie you’re wearing?” He grinds his cock against my ass. “Feel that? It’s all your damn fault.”
“I’m such a bad girl.”
He yanks up the hem of my chemise and lets the cool air of the room caress my ass. He’s breathing heavy in my ear as his finger traces the outline of my G-string.
