Page 4 of The Mistress Contract

His body presses against mine, his breathing labored now. I feel his cock swell—a thick and heavy bulge against my hip—and give a small whimper in response. He growls, pushing his thumb all the way in again so that I’m fighting off my gag reflex. His eyes are fierce now, scorching. Gazing down at me with hunger and ownership.

Suddenly I can picture the act that this is substituting for—as clearly as if it’s happening in front of me. I see his large, masculine body, naked, hard and sculpted perfectly in every way. It’s pressed to mine, lying on top of me in a bed as he flexes his trim hips and pushes that hard cock into my body, over and over again. I swallow, imagining the feel of him pressing into my entrance between my legs until he’s seated there deeper than where his thumb presses against the back of my throat.

My body floods with heat and need, craving, raw thirst.

I want him in every way that he could impose himself on me. Whether it’s his thumb in my mouth, his mouth on my mouth, his body on my body, his swollen cock sliding inside of me.

I don’t just want it. I need it.

And I am seconds away from falling to my knees and giving myself to him in each and every one of those ways.

But when he speaks, the spell is broken.

“I want you on your knees.”

I stiffen, protest rising in my body. Strange, that... I was seconds away from sinking to my knees for him of my own accord. Seconds away from unzipping his fly and taking his stiff cock in my hand, into my mouth. But his command splashes across my awareness like ice-cold water.

He feels my resistance, his eyes growing wary and his features lined with mild alarm. In response, he pushes his thumb in again to the back of my throat. When I pull my head back, it comes up against the glass behind me and I cannot avoid him as he sinks into me again. He repeats his demand and keeps his thumb in place, preventing me from moving.

So I do the only thing I can think of.

I clamp my jaw closed as hard as I possibly can. His mouth opens and he lets out nothing more than a gasp—no yelp or scream—though I’m biting hard enough to draw blood.

In fact, I can taste a metallic tang now as I tighten my jaw even more, channeling my inner pit bull.

He pulls his hand free, blowing out a breath, and when he does, I bolt for the door.

In two long strides, he catches up with me. Placing a firm grip on my elbow, he pulls me to stop.

I spin toward him, jerking my arm out of his grip. “This was a mistake.”

It’s all I can get out. He pins me down with those damn eyes and that GQ face. Heat rushes through me, and my nipples tighten.

If fucking is what he really wants, I have to admit I want it, too. I swallow in a tight throat at the thought of his strong hands and sensual mouth moving over my body. It’s been far too long since I’ve felt a man inside me, filling me. But I don’t want it like this, and not with some random stranger—no matter how beautiful!

And for that matter—what kind of sick bastard conducts interviews for a mistress? A flash of memory assails me—all those gorgeous model-wannabes in the lobby downstairs. They’re all vying for that position!

“We’re not finished here,” he murmurs, but releases my elbow.

My eyebrow arches up. “We are. I’m leaving and you can get back to interviewing prostitutes.”

His shoulders tighten and a tick starts in his jaw. I’ve managed to piss him off, but I couldn’t care less. He thought I was a hooker and that’s more than I can handle.

He says nothing, and I don’t wait for an answer. Seconds later, I’m in the hallway, finally able to breathe again. I punch the down button, glancing nervously behind me, afraid he is going to come out after me. The elevator takes its own sweet time in arriving so I dart for the stairs, taking them two at a time. I reach the bottom floor in record speed, completely out of breath and covered with sweat as I stumble through the door.

How could I be so stupid? Who accidentally interviews for a “mistress position?” Me, of course. I’d jumped at the opportunity when Sam had told me yesterday, not bothering to research the “company” at all. That was my second mistake. My first mistake had been trusting Sam—the girl had some serious cajones to pull this practical joke on me. I’d begin plotting my revenge as soon as I’d finished ripping her a new one.

Chapter 3

Brilliant and Beautiful

I get to work five minutes before my shift starts, still steaming mad. The smell of ground coffee permeates the air as I grab my apron off the hook in the backroom. Spotting Sam as she looks over the weekly work schedule, I make a beeline for her.

“Seriously, Sam?”

She looks up at me, smiling. Her blond hair is twisted up into a messy top bun. Somehow it still manages to look perfect. “Oh, hey.” She winks. “How’d the interview go?”

I huff at her. I’m still wearing the clothes I’d interviewed in, so when I stomp my foot, the sound of my heel echoes on the white linoleum tile. I glance around to ensure we aren’t overheard. “Are you aware that you sent me for an interview to become some random guy’s mistress?”

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