Chapter Nine

I open my eyes once again and Jameson has settled back in his tall chair. He crosses his legs, so casually, so nonchalantly. He sips his scotch.

But a dark, seductive look is glowing in his melted brown eyes, and all I can think is… The man is plotting how he’s going to make me come… Even harder.

That’s not exactly what happens next, though.

He gives me a few more minutes to return to myself. To pull in breaths that aren’t skittering down my esophagus and burning my lungs. To mentally process that I have, indeed, just been the main course in a sexual feeding frenzy.

Interestingly, I’m wondering if Jameson was waiting, the entire time he watched, for me to cry uncle and use my safe word. I find it nearly impossible to believe that he’d think I’d fully consent to an orgy, let people I don’t even know touch me, fuck me.

Surely, studious and tightly wound me, when at work, has never given off the vibe that I would put myself up for auction and check every box on the list that designates w