Page 23 of Brutal
My body starts to heat up as he continues, even trembling despite my best efforts not to show any sort of reaction. I grip the sheets and grit my teeth, trying to focus on anything but the feeling of his tongue delving inside of me.
He doesn’t back off, doesn’t stop, relentless until it’s all I can do not to buck against his face.
I think he’s actually going to get me to come. I almost want to make a comment about it, some sarcastic quip about Drake Brutal knowing how to service a woman, but I’m sure that wouldn’t go over well.
My lips part as I breathe a little heavier, and the pleasure zings through my body. I probably won’t last much longer.
Almost as soon as I have that thought, I have to stifle a sound because that pleasure ramps up into something I can’t ignore. I let out an involuntary little cry, resisting the urge to grab him by his short hair and force his face harder against me.
He keeps licking until it gets to be too much, until I’m so oversensitive that I do tug on his hair to pull him away. He licks his lips as he does, looking smug.
“Guess I get a nice fuck before work after all.” Glancing at his watch again, he scowls. “Eh. I can be a little late. Let’s test this pussy out now that it’s nice and wet for me.” He climbs on top of me, and without any preamble, he shoves his cock inside.
I’m still so sensitive that I gasp. It feels good, even though it shouldn’t, and my walls clench around his cock as he starts to fuck me.
Think of England, wasn’t it? If he wants me to do anything but lay there like a dead fish, he’ll have to give the order. But I can’t stop my body from contracting and pulling him deeper into me. My orgasm has loosened my body up enough that there isn’t even any resistance, and he fits into me like he belongs there.
Ugh.
No, I’m not going to think like that. This is just my body’s natural reaction. No matter what happens, this isn’t my fault. I’ve read all the articles and psych books and I know exactly what’s happening.
That doesn’t stop the shame from crawling into me. I bury it as deep as I can and keep my expression neutral.
Even when he spills inside of me, I cling to my resolve.
Drake Brutal will not see me break.
I’ve decided. I’m not going to let him get to me. I’ll be whatever he wants me to be—in body. My mind is never going to be his.
CHAPTER 7
Drake
I’d been pretty sure that one of the pills Patrick had given me would last through a morning of meetings, but after about one o’clock, I start recognizing the signs that they’re wearing off.
I snap at Caroline, who gives me a look that makes me wonder if she’s going to job interviews on her lunch breaks, and I swear to myself I’ll give her a bonus. If I can’t make her want to stay because of the job, I’ll just pay her enough to where it’s worth dealing with me.
“Sorry,” I mumble as I slink out of the last meeting of the day. Oliver and I had spent most of it arguing, completely derailing the entire presentation and prolonging a half hour meeting into a full hour.
“For what, Mr. Brutal?” Caroline asks, the picture of the executive assistant who doesn’t hate her boss as much as I’m sure she hates me.
I scowl at her for a second, then remember that I don’t want her to leave. “Come in my office for a second,” I tell her, heading that way.
She follows me in, closing the door behind her.
With how many closed-door meetings we have, people probably think we’re fucking, but I couldn’t find her less appealing if I tried.
She’s pretty enough, with auburn hair and piercing green eyes, but she’s too put together, too calm, too… responsible. Or something. I don’t really know, but there’s nothing about her that makes me want to shove my dick into her.
Not like Mimosa, who barely does anything at all but still has me wanting to fuck her senseless — sometimes out of anger, sometimes out of desire, but wanting to all the same.
“I need you to find out what Oliver is up to,” I say as I settle into the chair behind the desk and gesture for her to take a seat across from me.
“Spying isn’t in my job description,” Caroline says steadily.
I glare at her. “What? Yes, it is. You’re my executive assistant. That means you do everything I ask.”
“Are you sure? Let me pull up the contract. I believe my list of duties includes day to day support of your work duties, while being on-call for work emergencies,” she retorts.