“You thought what, Ms. Anderson?”
“I thought I could go to school when we finally got here.” A wild laugh. “There’s no more country after this. I thought we’d finally get to stay.”
Will’s eyes narrow, and he circles my clit with his thumb, winding me up fast and hard. The orgasm catches me by surprise. It’s fast and intense and before it’s peaked, Will hauls me off the table, still impaled on him.
My back meets the conference room wall, and his hand is under my chin. I close my lips against the sounds I can’t help making. Will fucks me standing up, his face blurry through the pleasure haze.
“Is that what you thought? You thought you’d get to steal a little money from me and spend the rest of your time on your knees under my desk? Is that what you wanted all along?”
I can hardly get enough air to speak. “If you let me stay—”
“If I let you stay.” His eyes fall to my lips. My arms over his shoulders are nothing. I could let go, and he’d keep me upright. Keep fucking me. “I’m beginning to think that was your goal the entire time. Offer me your sweet pussy and your tits and your throat and bleed me dry.”
“Mr. Leblanc—”
“How long would it have taken you to run the con to the end, Bristol? A month? A year? What would you let me do to you before you walked away?”
“I don’t want to go.”
“Not even if I chained you to the corner of my desk and used you for bonuses? Not even if I gave you what you deserved for stealing fifty thousand dollars?”
“No.”
Will pulses inside me. Shoves me harder against the wall. Angles his body so there’s contact with my clit. I should not come during this conversation. Should refuse.
But the words don’t match the expression on his face.
Gravity’s making it impossible to refuse. Feels too good. Too good—
Will leans in when I start to come. “That’s what kind of person I am, Ms. Anderson. You’d get more than you bargained for. Your con didn’t work. You’re not staying.”
His hands say something else. They hold me firmly in place while he covers my mouth with his and comes. Will’s body is all-in on the release. Every muscle pins me to the wall until he’s good and finished.
At the end, he puts his head down on my shoulder. Just for a moment.
Then I’m on my feet. He pulls my skirt back into place. Rearranges his clothes. Turns away. “Go back to your desk.”
“Will.”
He bends, picking up my panties from the conference room floor.
“Mr. Leblanc. I—I need those.”
He puts them into his pocket, a mean glint in his eyes. “You can pick them up at the end of the day.”
“I—”
“Now, Bristol, or you’ll serve lunch with your skirt around your waist.”
I walk into the hallway, feeling the brush of a cool, air-conditioned breeze on my bare pussy.
20
WILL
There’sa limit to how many times I can fight at the warehouses by the city docks every month.
The non-sanctioned fights only happen once a week. That’s the agreement with the cops. There are fewer rules and more gambling, and any fucked-up asshole can get into the ring so long as nobody dies.