Chapter 7

Mia

He still had his hand wrapped behind my head as I stared up at him, panting, my breasts rising and falling, my lips red and sore from his wonderfully brutal treatment. He didn’t at all look as though he was affected by the kiss. His breathing was even, though his eyes were darker, with a blue fire like I’d seen when I was naked and met his gaze in his bedroom only a short time ago.

He was stroking my lower lip now. I wanted him to stop because it was dully aching, yet I wanted him to continue.

“Are you a virgin?”

The question took me by surprise, and I shoved his hand away from me.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked. “What the heck if I am? Is it a crime to be a virgin at twenty-two?” I stood, shoving the chair back in the process.

If there were any certainty at all, I’d be a virgin for the rest of my life, because I knew I wasn’t going to settle down with just any man. Then again, I’d also been certain I was never going to let any man kiss me either, unless he was the right one—that gentle, caring man who loved me to my bones, like the way Dad had loved Mom, like the way Dad had cherished Mom.

This man—this Mr. J. Maxwell—was nothing like that. He was arrogant and brutal, and what happened a moment ago had changed the fact that I’d never been kissed.

My head held high, I said haughtily, “Trust me. I’ll get that two million by Friday. Somehow, someway.”

Turning on my heel, I headed to the door.

“Two million. Five years.”

My legs halted, and I turned to look at the handsome man, who’d just given me the most amazing kiss.

“Excuse me?”

He moved just a little, easing his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Two million. Five years. It’s a contract.”

I stared at him, long and hard, my heart pumping loud and fast within my chest. “What contract?”

“The one I’m offering you.” He cocked his head to one side as he gazed at me. “Interested?”

I hesitated.

Two million. Five years. For me? For Andy’s freedom?

I narrowed my eyes and said slowly, “What type of work are you offering me?”

A slight smile formed to one side of his mouth, and I knew. “You’re a fucking bastard!”

Tears started brewing in my eyes and hurt within my heart, I reached for the door handle.

Sick! Just plain sick!

I cracked the door open and was about to run off, when I felt myself being pulled by the arm and spun round. Dizzy and breathless at the sudden reorientation, I gazed at the broad chest before me as the door clicked shut and my back was thrust against it.

My eyes drifted up to the stern face above me, and before I could gasp at the raw fire I saw within those Prussian-blue eyes, firm lips crushed against mine as I felt warm fingers dig deep into my hair.

I whimpered as he kissed me long and hard, thrusting his tongue against mine, stroking and caressing and licking and playing, making me breathless and squirm with a sense of hunger for more. I was gone. My head swam in this deep pool of sensation, and my being floated in midair, surrounded with his warm aura.

His hand moved down to my breast and cupped it, feeling the soft flesh against the thin material of my T-shirt. I gasped and groaned in response, and my breasts became hard and engorged, sensitive at the slightest touch.

When he thrust his muscular thigh between the softness of my legs, my core burned and twisted, crying out its need to be filled with him. It was the moment that brought me back to reality.

I shook my head as I tried to shove him off me. He retaliated by increasing the firmness of his grip. When I tried even harder, he had one hand at the small of my back and hoisted me up until I was riding his thigh. I freaked out because the action and position increased the burning need within me, the craving for his manhood and for him to simply ravish me, take me, and do so in every which way that pleased him.

Oh God! I could feel the hardness of his shaft against me, and my body responded by turning weak, trembling with the need to be filled, shocking me to my center.

My mind, however, refused to submit to his sexual seduction. It was then he let go of my lips. Instead, his hot mouth moved to tease the sensitive spot near my ear. My body shuddered as he whispered, “You’re definitely worth two million. I’d fuck you every night.”

I caught my breath at his words and felt weak and aroused. I was reduced to a wanton wench.

Slowly, he eased his thigh from between my legs and lowered me to the ground. With his face touching mine and his lips caressing my cheek, he said softly, “Make up your mind. Two million. Five years. Your brother will go free. You have until Friday morning.”

He moved his body back, though his hand still trapped me between him and the door. Panting, I watched him as he stared at me, his eyes intense.

“What are you still doing here?” he suddenly snapped.

I heard the frustration and anger in his voice, but how could I move if he was still trapping me there? He was a brick wall, and I was a puny thing. Furthermore, my legs couldn’t move. They were paralyzed in numbness.

My body stiff, he pulled me by the arm, closer to him. I could feel the whole length of him, his muscular, toned body and his hard rod pushing against his pants, against my belly. I squirmed with a flare of sexual heat at the feel of his bulge, evidence of his hunger and desire for me.

“Or have you decided already?”

I hesitantly shook my head.

He cupped my face firmly so I had no choice but to look up at him.

“You know how fucking tempting you are, sweetheart?” he said. “If you don’t want me to throw you on the floor and fuck you hard now—leave!”

I got the message loud and clear. I pulled myself free from his enchanting incarceration and turned my back to him. My hands at the door, I tried to yank it open. When it didn’t budge, I whispered, “The door.”

I felt him releasing a deep sigh, as if it were very painful for him to suddenly let me go. Then slowly and reluctantly he eased his hand from the door.

I pulled it open and slipped out, racing down the hall, my heart pumping loud and fast and tears blinding me.

My heart was still racing from the short, intense, stupefying experience when I sprinted down the grand stairs. I was at the base and was about to leave when Ms. Lane appeared before me. Her expression was once again calm and stern.

“Your backpack,” she said tonelessly, handing me my belongings.

I got ahold of myself and murmured, “Thanks.”

With my stuff back, I ran out the door and down the long driveway. I didn’t stop running until I reached the gate, until I was sure I was far enough away from Mr. J. Maxwell, the man who had hotly kissed me and wanted to ravish me. The man who made me squirm under his touches and made my inside desire to be filled with his hard shaft. The man who reduced me to nothing but a wanton wench. It was only then I collapsed on the grass and allowed the tears to flow down my cheeks and the hunger and craving to be ravished and filled by the man with beautiful Prussian-blue eyes, the man named Mr. J. Maxwell, to consume me.