Chapter 20 Replacement 2
RORY POV
“Shhh…” His hot breath fanned my ear. “You don’t want to interrupt them now, do you?”
I couldn’t speak. I didn’t think I could speak. This was wrong in every way. Why the hell was my boss here, watching my ex and ex-best friend do… this… with his hand clamped over my mouth?
“Have you ever done this before?”
A jolt of electricity shot straight to my core. I tried to suppress a moan, my knees actually buckling for a second.
"Answer me, Aurora."
I shook my head frantically against his palm.
"I can't wait to corrupt you," he murmured. He pressed closer, and my brain short-circuited when I felt it. The hard, unmistakable ridge of his groin poking into the small of my back.
My entire body went rigid with the shock of it.
He was hard.
My boss was hard and pressed against my back in a dark corridor and the filthy traitorous part of me wanted to grind back against him and I hated myself for it completely.
What is wrong with me?
He’s my boss. He’s married.
Why would a married man be doing this?
My brain short-circuited when I realized he’d removed his hand from my mouth. I wanted to turn and run, flee in humiliation but I knew I couldn’t move without my ass dragging over his dick again.
I saw him from the corner of my eye peeling off his right glove with slow, deliberate fingers. Long. Lean. Shadowed in the dim light.
Before I could think, his bare hand landed on my shoulder. Goosebumps erupted in waves down my arm, my back, my chest. I sucked in a hard shaky breath.
Why is he doing this to me? Why is my body welcoming it like it’s starved?
His hand didn’t stop at my shoulder. It slid lower. Lower. To my cleavage. Then rested, full palm over my right breast. Right on my nipple.
The contact burned through the silk. My nipple pebbled instantly, aching under his touch. A fresh wave of wetness soaked my panties. My thighs trembled. My breath hitched so hard I thought he’d hear it.
He did it with precision that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing and had decided to do it.
I should scream. I should tell him to stop. I should remind him that this was assault and I was his employee and he was — he was—
You're only going to get used. He'll fuck uou and discard you and you know it.
Steve's voice rang in my head.
"What are you doing, Mr. Miller?" I managed to gasp, my voice ragged.
"I know you want that. I know you want to be the one getting whipped on that table. Isn't that what you want?"
"N-no." I said.
He pinched my nipple.
Hard.
A moan left my mouth before I could catch it , it was shameless and real and loud enough that I immediately pressed my lips together in horror. I felt liquid heat rush through me, felt it trace down between my thighs, felt my body respond in a way it had never once responded to Steve in three years.
Inside the room, the whipping had stopped.
Steve was already ball-deep inside her, the sounds of their frantic coupling filling the hallway. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't watch them while Alexander dismantled me from behind.
I spun around in his arms. He didn't move back, he kept me pinned against the wall, his hooded gaze dark with a hunger that made my blood sing. He looked like every warning l'd ever been given. He was the devil in a black tie.
"You're so fucking beautiful, Ana."
I heard beautiful and I heard his voice saying it and I felt it move through me warm and devastating and I was too caught up in the feeling of it and the proximity of him and the heat still radiating from where his hand had been to catch the name he had used.
His hands found my waist. He pulled me in and bent his head, pressing his face into my hair, inhaling slowly the way he had done before, like he was taking something he needed.
My eyes dropped.
The ring on his finger caught the dim light from the door.
The wedding ring.
“Mr. Miller,” I said quietly. “I can’t."
His gaze flicked down to me slowly, one eyebrow lifting slightly as if he already knew what I was about to say.
"You're married."
For a moment he didn't react.
Then he answered in the same calm tone he had used for everything else tonight.
"My wife is dead."
The way he said it sent an unexpected chill through me.
No emotion.
No hesitation.
Just a statement of fact.
“I’m — I’m sorry,” I said. Because what else was there.
"You don't have to be."
His eyes remained fixed on my face for a moment longer before he added quietly,
"You'll be replacing her."