Thorne Princess(69)

I shook my head. “Nothing,” I panted. “Nothing. Please.”

With his expression still glacial and bored, he tucked my panties to one side, sliding whatever was left of the ice cube—and his index finger—into me.

I let out a feral moan, chasing his touch, writhing against the wall. My virginity, at least in the technical sense, had been taken by a dildo when I was seventeen years old. And though I’d given myself many orgasms in my life, nothing had ever felt as acutely good as what he was doing to me.

“What are we doing?” His lips hovered over mine teasingly. Every time I tried to reach to kiss him, he moved away.

“Nothing.” My breath picked up speed, telling him what he wanted to hear. “Nothing at all.”

“Good girls get rewarded.”

He added his middle finger into me, the ice dissolving inside me completely. My own juices and the cold water dripped down my legs, mixing together, traveling from my thighs to my calves.

“Ride my fingers now, Princess.”

“Or what?”

Our eyes met. He searched mine relentlessly for traces of doubt.

I want the fantasy. I want you not to be considerate, or gentle.

“Or”—his lips dragged along the side of my neck—“I’m going to throw you over my bed headfirst and fuck your ass until you bleed.”

Oh. My. God.

Fear and excitement coursed through me. I pushed up and down, grinding into his body for added friction as I rode his fingers. I closed my eyes, my pleasure mixed with shame for what he was making me do. I knew he was watching, and I knew he was getting a kick out of the full control he had over me.

“Ransom…”

“No talking,” he said, not moving an inch, just standing there with his fingers erect while I fucked them.

“Give me a third finger. Please.”

“No.”

“Please.” God, what was I doing? I was already regretting my behavior, and still, I continued. I picked up speed, feeling my orgasm making its way from my toes up.

“Why’d you kiss Max?” he growled.

“To piss you off!” I cried out.

“Consider this payback.”

Just like that, he drew his fingers away, seconds from my orgasm. He stepped back. I slacked against the wall, my legs piling beneath me in disarray. The sweet ache of where his fingers had been still pulsated inside me. Well, now I was just pissed.

“Nothing happened, though, right?” He smiled pleasantly, popping the two fingers he’d used into his mouth, sucking them clean. “Hmm. Watermelon Sugar High.”

“Fuck you,” I moaned from my place on the floor.

He tipped his head down. “Not a fan of Harry Styles?”

“Not a fan of you!” I called out to his retreating back, watching him ambling to his room, disposing his whiskey glass on a credenza in the living room. “I’ll never fuck an asshole like you.”

He chuckled before closing the door behind him.

He knew it was a lie.





Not good.

Not good at all.

Let me rephrase—very good. Too good. The kind of good you want to bottle up and save for a rainy day.

There was a first time for everything. Apparently, this was my first time finger-fucking my ward.

I’d never messed with a client before. Prided myself in the cool and collected way I handled my assignments, even when some of the most gorgeous, glamorous women on earth fell at my feet, begging for a joy ride.

In the end, the one who managed to get her way was the unassuming Hallie Thorne.

She was pretty enough, but nowhere near as eye-catching as many other women who’d tried—and failed—to lure me into temptation.

What made Brat ruthlessly alluring was her hostile individuality. Like a cornered, rabid animal, she fought, even without teeth and claws. She didn’t give up on herself, even if, in her own eyes, she was unworthy.

It was that fine line between her defenselessness and slyness that did it for me. She was a contradiction. A tender-souled belle who didn’t mind walking all over Max’s future with her pointy stilettos just to make a point. An exiled Eve. A weird, mixed-breed creature.

Someone like me.

Which reminded me. I wasn’t going to sack Max.

Poor asshat was a pawn in our screwed-up game. But I was going to make him sweat buckets and ensure Hallie Thorne was off-limits for him.

As for playing with America’s former First Daughter’s pussy juices, well, that was a one-off. I was fairly certain Brat wouldn’t rat us out to her parents. Admitting she got frisky with the help would serve as more ammo against her, and they already had plenty to work with.

The next morning, I woke up knowing I had to avoid her until I got my mind straight and my cock under control. Next time I saw her, I had to sit her down and explain there would be no more nothings between us.

I grabbed my phone from my nightstand. The screen flashed with Tom’s name.

Not in this lifetime.

Not that any part of me considered confiding in him about my transgressions last night. But Tom was usually the bearer of bad news, and I needed two cups of coffee before dealing with his ass.

I rejected the call, sat upright, and phoned Max. He answered before the dial tone started.

“Boss!” he greeted anxiously. “Listen, I haven’t slept all night. I just wanted to say—”