NEW ~ FR*EE
I’ve been raised as the good, obedient daughter, but I never expected to be sold to pay my father’s debts. Cold. Rough. Merciless. The foreman of the construction crew is going to make me pay every last cent…
“Go ahead and fight,” he murmurs against my temple. “I like it rough.”
“I don’t,” I say, biting out the words.
He pulls back enough to meet my gaze, lids heavy, eyes dark. “Don’t you? I think you like what I’m doing to you. I think if I dip my fingers in that pretty little pussy of yours, I’m going to find it wet.”
I hate that he’s right. “Is this what you need to get off? Forcing yourself on a woman?”
Something flickers in his gaze, as if I’ve wounded him.
It’s gone in a second, and I don’t know if it was ever really there. Instead his gaze turns sharp. “I was going to wait until I got you back to my loft to fuck you, but I think I want to test my theory right here.”
Then his rough hands are pulling on the silky fabric, bunching it up in his large meaty hands, ruining the fabric against his calluses. Cool air washes over my legs, and I close my legs, humiliated. This is how he wants me—humiliated and broken.
I refuse to break, even when his large hand slides up the inside of my thigh.
Even when he’s proven correct, when his fingers push aside the thin fabric of my thong and touch wetness. I expect him to laugh, to gloat. Not groan like he’s in sweet agony. Not pant against my shoulder as if he can barely contain himself.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice sounding thick. “You’re so soft. So fucking hot.”
I shudder against the wall as he slides a finger in deep. This is wrong. This is sick, with my father somewhere in the house. With maids who could walk in on us at any time.
“Spread,” he says.
When I don’t move, he pinches the inside of my thigh. “I said spread.”
I jump and make a small sound of pain and desire. It’s the last one that terrifies me. How is he able to make me want this? What’s wrong with me that his hands on me feel good?
Because they do, so rough and firm, fingers pushing deep inside me. He’s knowledgeable in ways I can barely contemplate, going slow when I need him to, moving fast to increase the intensity. And that’s before his thumb fingers my clit.
I gasp and jerk away from the wall. “Asher.”
His eyes blaze with lust and something else. Possession. “Like that. I want you to say my name just like that, again and again. You’re mine, beautiful.”