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Possess Me Slowly (Shattered #2) Page 27
Author: Joya Ryan

“I’m sorry, but you could have prepared me for that.” I hiked my thumb at the restaurant we pulled away from. “You said this agreement was built on trust. When were you going to tell me about Darlene Mc-huge-boobs in there?”

Preston grabbed my left knee and swung me around so that my back was pressed against the car door and the bottom of my heel was on the seat. I scrambled to pull down my dress because his quick snag caused my legs to spread wide. He just scooted closer and kept a firm grip on my knee.

“Are you jealous?” He grinned and glanced between my thighs. He was purposefully keeping my legs apart, flashing my panties at him. Which were getting wetter. “I do love this dress on you.”

He was distracting me, but I had way too many questions to play that game…even though he may be winning already.

“I’m not jealous, I’m just surprised.” Okay, maybe a little jealous, but mostly surprised.

“Uh-huh.” He ran both hands up my inner thighs. I was trapped and helpless. Every time I tried to close my legs, he just gripped me hard. I was no match against his strength.

“I want to know, Preston,” I breathed, and wish I sounded more convincing.

“Alright.” He leaned in and placed one palm on the widow glass by the side of my face and the other stayed between my legs. His fingers traced the edge of my panties and gently brushed past them. I gasped and wiggled closer. But he kept his touch slow and soft. When his fingertip rubbed my clit I arched and moaned.

No. I wanted to know what the hell had happened in there. But I wanted his touch so bad it was splitting me apart. I snapped my eyes open.

“Preston…tell me…”

“I hate talking about the past. It’s useless. Why not stay here in the present…”

He teased the opening of my pu**y and I bit my bottom lip. God, I wanted to stay in the present too, but damn it, I had to stay strong. He promised me the truth and if I was going to go along with this contract and play the dutiful fiancé, knowing the kind of man he was and why members of his family were crazy, was kind of a need-to-know thing.

“I want to know you,” I whispered, and gripped the lapels of his jacket.

“Fine.” He shoved his big finger inside me, instantly filling me up. I groaned and fisted his jacket tighter. “I dated Darlene in college.” His breath hit my mouth. “I fell for her, but when she realized I was the younger bastard son of the Strauss name—” He withdrew and returned with two fingers. My nails dug into my palms between the fabric I was gripping. “She traded up. Went after Charlie. Charlie always had a thing for her and loved that he beat me and won her.”

He thrust hard. In and out, his voice growing raspy as a fire sizzled my blood. “They were pissed when they found out that Dad wasn’t set on his first-born to be his heir, rather the one with the best legacy.”

He sank those fingers impossibly deep and curled them, rubbing against the sensitive spot inside. My inner walls squeezed and I moved my hips up to meet him.

“Jesus, Megan.” He flicked his fingers faster.

I cupped his face, bringing him so close that I took in the air he expelled and he took mine. Still fully clothed and breathing for each other, it was the most intense feeling I’d ever known.

“They think that having a son will secure everything for them,” he continued, and twisted his hand, rotating those thick fingers inside me. A wild shiver broke over my skin like shattering glass and I about came undone.

I tried to focus on Preston’s words. He was feeding me the information I asked for and likely wouldn’t repeat himself. Fighting the urge to come and process what he said, Charlie and Darlene’s behavior made a bit more sense. They were eager to tell everyone about trying for another baby because they wanted a boy.

“I may be the bastard son,” Preston growled and plunged in and out faster. “But I earned my keep and they know it.”

The way he spoke, with so much conviction while mastering my body, made me want to kiss every inch of him. My heart raced and my body hummed like a plucked wire.

“Preston…” His name was a whisper on my lips. A plea. I was falling, so hard and fast I couldn’t cling to a thing or steady myself. My pulse thumped loudly in my temples. I didn’t know the whole story behind his upbringing and my mind couldn’t work quickly enough to churn out the questions I desperately wanted to ask. This was probably his goal: say his piece while rendering me speechless.

“They didn’t see the wild card up my sleeve though.” He kissed my chin. “You.”

Stirring his fingers deep, over and over, he brushed his thumb over my clit. A small jolt caused my body to ricochet from the intense shot of pleasure. I stared at his smoldering green eyes. It was like gazing into a vat of liquefied emeralds.

“You’re so wet.” He kissed me quick, a single stroke of his tongue inside my mouth. “So f**king hot and responsive.”

He pressed hard on my clit and kept up his assault on my pu**y. The pleasure was so good it bordered on pain. Still cupping his face in my hands, I forced my touch to remain gentle and not scratch him.

“You’re more beautiful and different than any other woman I’ve known.” He turned his head within my grasp just enough to kiss my palm. “Do you hear me, Megan?”

I nodded.

He grinned. “Good.”

He withdrew his fingers completely then rammed them back. I came instantly.

An ocean of searing hot tremors whipped through my body like a volcanic boomerang. It was so much, too much, still not enough. I screamed and dug my heel into the seat, likely puncturing the leather. Hot fire shot from my core to my fingertips and soldered every place in between. He was everywhere. Surrounded me with his presence.

With my eyes squeezed shut, the whole world fell away and all I felt was Preston.

Chapter Twelve

Preston shut the penthouse door behind us and tossed his keys, not bothering to hit anything other than the floor. He took off his jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Take off your dress,” he said looking at me. I backed away from him. My body was still humming from the car ride and my mind was a wreck trying to figure this man out.

One moment he was gentle, looking at me like I was the most precious thing in the world. There was an edge of truth in everything he said that compelled me to believe him when he spoke. Then there was the clinical, hard exterior, tight-lipped version that didn’t give anything away and made me feel like I really was just a pawn in his chess game.

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Joya Ryan's Novels
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