Chapter 5
Did he mean sex?
Here? In this public conference room?
Over this scarred and used table?
Holding onto my virtue into my twenties had been a choice.
I knew my worth.
And despite what Lucian might think, I’d also taken my responsibility as an heiress seriously. No man was going to one night and flight me, ruining my chances of an advantageous marriage.
I had a plan for my life, and it included marrying well and being a respected, high society matron. As an alumnus of Brearley Academy, I intended to continue the commitment to charity and community service instilled in me at the distinguished Upper East Manhattan school.
I might have been young, but I knew how the world worked.
Money bought a person influence.
And influence gave a person power for change.
With my fortune and a good marriage, I could influence legislation and policy as well as affect real change in people’s lives through better education, supporting the arts, scholarships.
The sky was the limit.
My parents had never believed in my altruistic vision, especially my father.
While I grieved for their loss and would never have wished them harm, their deaths had freed me.
Finally I could realize my goals and have a real purpose in life beyond being the dutiful daughter.
And none of this included becoming the kept, trophy wife of Lucian Manwarring.
People jeered behind his back that his first wife had really died of hypothermia instead of in childbirth. While I thought that was an impossibly cruel thing to say about anyone, even him, I couldn’t help thinking there was a reason why his name hadn’t been attached to any woman since her death twenty years ago.
The man was nothing but a ruthless monster, intent on amassing power and an even impossibly larger fortune to lord over everyone.
With renewed determination, I resisted him.
“Get off of me!” I cried out as I struggled within his embrace.
With both of my hands on his muscular shoulders, I pushed as hard as I could.
He didn’t move an inch. “Make me.”
“Please,” I begged again as his mouth then moved down, pulling one of my nipples out of my bra and sucking the tip, nibbling just enough to give it a slight twinge of pain with the pleasure.
My core tightened, and I bit into my bottom lip to stop myself from moaning.
My pussy pulsed with need.
His mouth felt so good. The illicit pressure built in my core as a flush of heat moved from my head down to my toes and back again.
“Tell me what I want to hear, and I will reward you,” he said before sucking on my other nipple while pinching the first.
His other hand moved down my side. Grasping the hem of my skirt, he wrenched it high over my hip before sliding his hand under my ass. The tips of his fingers played with the elastic edge of my panties.
“I don’t know what you want to hear.” I was practically panting, but I didn’t want him to know I was on the verge of coming apart at the seams.
My brain was screaming no, but my body was begging for more.
“Tell me you’ll be a good girl for me. That you’ll do as you’re told.”
My first instinct was to tell him what he wanted to hear.
To tell him that I needed him to touch me more. That I would be a good girl for him.
Then I opened my eyes, seeing past his shoulder and the room around us. It was a stark reminder of where we were, who I was with, and why.
With a strength I didn’t know I had, I pushed aside the hormones, the need, and the craving for his heat. “Go back to hell, Lucian Manwarring.”