DIRTY, ROTTEN SEXCAPADES (Erotica Collection) のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 31 - チャプター 40

NATHANIEL'S POVI sat behind my desk, my mind stuck on the image of Wendy Bonner standing over a box of silicone filth. Seeing her flustered was like watching a slow-burn fuse on a stick of dynamite.Every time I'd stepped closer to her out there, I could feel the heat radiating off her skin. She wasn't just nervous because I was the boss who had spent five years ignoring her name; she was nervous because she wanted me to devour her. And God, the feeling was becoming mutual.My sister had been right. I was a prick. But as I thought about the way Wendy's breath hitched when I whispered the word punish in her ear, I realized being a prick had its advantages. It made the air between us electric, charged with tension. The way she had looked at me with her pupils blown wide and her chest heaving against that sensible, high-necked blouse had done something to my internal wiring. I've bedded models, socialites, and cutthroat executives, but none of them had ever looked so utterly devourable

NATHANIEL'S POVMy lunch was delivered on time. I'm a man who makes sure his meals arrive exactly when they're supposed to, with the proper balance of protein and fuel. Control matters. I had ordered lunch for two—sushi and egg rolls."Wendy, come to my office," I said into the intercom."Yes, sir," she answered immediately.Good.She stepped into my office a few moments later. I was standing by the table, already plating food for her. I didn't ask if she was hungry."You'll sit on the couch," I said. "You're having lunch with me.""Lunch?" she echoed, startled."Yes," I said calmly. "You eat, don't you?""Well—thank you. I wasn't expecting—""You're a researcher now," I cut in, closing the distance between us and handing her the plate. She took it with trembling fingers. My hand slid deliberately along the side of her neck, stopping at the pulse point in her throat. It was racing, frantic beneath my touch. I liked that. "And as my lead researcher, you'll be prepared for every scenari

WENDY'S POVThe cabin of the Gulfstream felt like a fever dream—a hazy, scent-drenched vacuum of luxury and raw, animalistic filth. We weren't even halfway across the Atlantic, and I felt like a completely different woman.I had been eaten raw.Nathaniel was a predator, and his tongue was his most lethal weapon. Two hours in, and he had already sucked me in every position imaginable. My favorite—the one that made my toes curl so hard I thought I'd snap the Saint Laurent heels—was when he'd hoisted me up like I weighed nothing. He'd pinned my back against the vibrating wall of the jet, my legs wrapped around his neck, and just demolished me. The vibration of the engines through the bulkhead, combined with the relentless, rhythmic lapping of his tongue, had sent me over the edge three times in a row.Now, my pussy was throbbing. It felt swollen, tender, and undeniably used. I was lying on the massive, silk-sheeted bed in the rear stateroom, watching Nathaniel. He was passed out for the

WENDY'S POVAnnalise. The name tasted like ash in my mouth. She was the glacier that had frozen Nathaniel's soul, a tall, skeletal blonde who looked like she'd never eaten a carb in her life. She walked toward us with a predatory grace, her red-painted nails looking like blood-dipped claws."I figured you might be here," she purred, her eyes flicking over Nathaniel with a disgusting sense of ownership."Well, this is the last place I thought I'd run into you," Nathaniel replied, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. "What are you doing here?""I'm here as moral support for Jordan," she said, her smile sharpening. "He's trying to land the O'Malleys as clients."Of course he was. Everyone in the world was chasing the same damn account.Just then, a man walked up. He was handsome in a polished, punchable way. He slid a possessive arm around Annalise's waist and kissed her temple. "Honey, let's go. Our suite is ready.""Just a moment, Jordan," Annalise drawled, her blue eyes turning to me

WENDY'S POVThe O'Malley boardroom was a cathedral of glass and mahogany, overlooking the grey, churning waters of the Dublin docks. I sat there in a pencil skirt so tight I could barely breathe. I had my legs crossed as I tried to focus on the slides I'd stayed up all night perfecting.But focus was impossible.Underneath the heavy conference table, Nathaniel's hand was a hot, heavy weight on my thigh. His fingers were inching upward, slowly hooking under the mesh hem of my panties, his thumb stroking that sensitive spot where my leg met my torso. He was acting completely professional, nodding along to the technical specs, but his eyes were dark with a possessive, territorial hunger.I was a mess. My pussy was already so tender and ready to be stretched that I almost grabbed his fingers and shoved them inside me myself, but my mind wasn't a hundred percent in it. That morning, I'd finally gotten a message back from Walter Shamer—the man who I found out was my birth father. He was the