Derision by Trisha Wolfe Page A

in his blue eyes urges his sincerity, and his weight bearing down on me enforces his intent. I’m almost afraid to speak, shocked that he plans to fuck me again.
    Am I not broken?
    Am I not a puddle of submissive goo beneath him?
    The heated look in his pale gaze answers my unspoken questions. I haven’t even begun to feel the extent of what this man is capable of.
    I lick my lips, watching the way his gaze follows the path of my tongue. Predatory. “What if I don’t know?” I admit.
    He raises his eyebrows, forcing his eyes back to mine. “Everybody wants something.”
    I don’t have any friends. My parents are dead. The rest of my family distant and estranged. All I have is my job and the worry over my brother. There are so many… too many things I don’t have that I don’t even know where to begin to long for them. Besides, anything and everything can be taken away. Stolen in the blink of an eye.
    While it’s true that everybody wants something in this world…it’s also true that once obtained, there’s a constant fear of losing it.
    I raise my chin, employing confidence I don’t feel. “I reserve the right to answer at a later date.”
    A true smile breaks across his face, his burst of laughter unfurling a flight of pleasurable shivers within me. I almost amend my answer, stating that what I want is to see that —being the only recipient of his heart-melting smile, instead of the one he flashes too often. The sultry, panty-dropping smile he uses to reel in prey.
    I bite down on my tongue, preventing myself from exposing what I have no doubt he’ll see as a weakness.
    “Still fighting for a promotion, I see.” His smile is gone, but the silver gleam still lights his blue gaze. “I admit, I don’t like surprises. Nor do I like not knowing the stakes.” Something flashes in his narrowed gaze before he inhales deeply. “But as I’m unable to get enough of your sweet pussy…” He rocks into me then, eliciting a soft cry from me. “I’m at a disadvantage.”
    I’ve nearly forgotten about the plug until he’s filling me, increasing the pressure in my channel as my hands push against his chest.
    When I open my eyes again, as the pain ebbs and pleasure sweeps in, his slow and steady thrusts not as intense—but just as demanding—I see the primal need strike like steel meeting flint in his gaze. That spark of desire to annihilate me.
    Lowering himself, he presses me into the mattress, driving inside me deeply, as he whispers against my ear, “But be warned, temptress. A disadvantage doesn’t deter me. I’m not to be fucked with.”

8
    Disdain
    Chase
    I stand before the bathroom mirror, flipping a silver makeup compact over in my hand. My guest bathroom that has never been used is littered with feminine touches, suddenly making it look very lived in.
    It’s at my request, of course, that Jefferson fill it with every assortment that Alexis might need, but that doesn’t stop the irrational frustration at having my sanctuary invaded.
    Control and routine. Routine and control. They go hand in hand, and are the foundation of my life. It was my budding law practice that, years ago, became the base of what Lark and Gannet is today.
    My ideas. My routines. My connections.
    Mike Gannet offered a flare for marketing and a delicate finesse with the clientele that I didn’t possess, which made him a necessary asset. Otherwise, I hate change. Each partner henceforth was hand selected by me, because I deemed them worthy as they offered some valuable benefit for the practice.
    And, they had a similar foundation. A belief system that afforded them an invitation into The Firm —an association of the most elite, a membership, if you will, of likeminded, powerful men who like to play and still keep their reputations in tact.
    Politicians. Judges. CEOs. Too many great men have been brought down by their pricks. The Firm gives men with means— lots of means—a lucrative way to fulfill their needs without the