16: Locke.

Something potent, a lot like power, surges in my blood as I cross the foyer, wrap a hand around her elbow and draw her out of the shadows. She searches my eyes nervously, as if I'm going to throw her out. Scold her. But she rocks back on her heels when she finds my expression purposeful, instead. Intense, steady and purposeful. And it excites her. Arouses her. Even more than the first few times we were together. I'm finally giving in, letting myself conquer Harriet, exploit her, and she can barely breathe, she's so hot for it.

Letting go of her arm, I reach down and strip off her skimpy dress, throwing it aside. When she stands in my cold marble foyer in nothing but a thong and heels, I circle around back of her, watching goosebumps rise on her arms, her shoulders. Watching her thighs squeeze together to keep from trembling. Listening to her breath accelerate.

I wind her hair around my fist, tugging her head back. "Did you bring me a wet pussy?"

A shudder wracks her, those incredible