Page 230 of Hate to Love You

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Page 230 of Hate to Love You

“We,” Abby says, raising a brow at me. “We are late for a meeting. You said back at my house that you wanted to share your life with me, remember? If that’s true, then we are running late for a meeting.”

“Okay, but even if we weren’t running late for a meeting, I don't think fifth avenue at rush hour is the best place for driving lessons in a $300,000 car.”

She pauses for a minute, pursing her lips, before stepping back out of the car.

But before she can run off again, I take her hand, firmly, and walk around to the passenger side. Smiling, I politely open the door for her and motion for her to get inside. Without protest, she slips into the seat, crossing her arms again as I close the door.

That’s when I notice Oleg and Trevor standing on the sidewalk. Looking utterly dumbfounded.

“What are you idiots waiting for?” I snap at them, waving my hand in the air. “Get back in the fucking cars we’re leaving.”

I yank open the door and step inside. However, as I do, I immediately notice that hanging from the mirror…is another pair of panties.

These are black lace, with the little blush pink bow at the back.

I look over at her, and she grins at me wickedly before leaning over the seat, pressing her breasts together.

She grabs my face and kisses me passionately.

“Mine,” she growls as she pulls away, biting her bottom lip with a wink.

My cock instantly throbs, and instinctively I grab her throat, making her gasp and kissing her again, shoving my tongue into her mouth.

“Yes, you crazy bitch,” I whisper against her swollen lips. “I am yours.”

I press my hand between her thighs grabbing her pussy aggressively, and slipping two fingers inside her, I make her moan like a slut.

“And when we get home, I’ll teach you a few lessons, baby girl. Including how to drive a stick…the right way,” I growl against her lips.

I reach up, this time gently removing the black lace panties from the mirror.

She opens her mouth, and I watch her tense and her eyes go wide.

Until I ball up her little thong, and press it against my nose, inhaling deeply.

“You smell so fucking good,” I whisper.

I reach down slowly, twisting the soft fabric around the gear shift.

“But if I’m gonna have your panties in my car, I’d rather feel them under my fingers,” I say, watching with satisfaction as her cheeks redden. “The entire time.”

A half hour later, we pull up outside of my private jet’s hangar.

“Let me guess,” Abby sighs. “This is the part where you tell me you want me to wait in the car.”

In truth, I was.

But only because I don’t honestly know how any of this is going to go. And if it goes poorly then…well, let’s just say, she won’t get back in the car with the highest opinion of me.

…Or my family.

However, because Abby assumed I’d be asking her to wait in the car, I somehow want to do the opposite.

This is just part of the ongoing mental chess match we play, with each of us trying to out-maneuver, or out bluff the other. And like so many times before, the moment Abby underestimates me, and attempts to anticipate my movements, becomes the exact moment I decide to change them.

Just to keep my little fox on her toes.

Perhaps it’s a bit sadistic. Or perhaps I get off every time surprise skates across her face, no matter the circumstances. Either way, the prospect of exceeding Abby expectations brings me the real first grin I’ve had since I was buried inside her.




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