“There’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.”

Mr. Kane turns his chin to the side, gaze trained on the reflection in the mirror. “I’m trying to get ready for an event. Do you really think now is the time?”

Ha. Kinda like how now isn’t the time I’m supposed to be working.

“My application for overtime has been disapproved.” I hold out a cuff link. “Again.”

He extends his arm.

Great. So, now I’m dressing the adult. There just isn’t enough money for this.

“You know how payroll can be.”

I hold his wrist, resisting the urge to “accidentally” push the stabby end of the cufflink into an artery. “Overtime applications are approved by you.”

“Honestly, Abigail, you’re on a salary. You’re not entitled to overtime.” He flicks a non-existent lock of hair out of his eyes.

Abigail. Abigail. Abigail.

And I’m sure the asshole does know my name.

“Mr. Kane.” I take a deep, deep breath and let it out slowly. “My contract is for a thirty-eight-hour week. Conservatively, I work seventy. Overtime is to be paid at 1.25, except for holidays and Sundays.” I give his wrist a squeeze. “Which is double time.”

He snatches his wrist free and takes the cufflink, fastening it himself. “How can you possibly expect to get ahead with that attitude.”

Uh, Oh.

Mr. Kane actually doing something for himself is never a good sign for me. “I’m starting to think you don’t appreciate your job.”

My stomach plunges. This position has historically held a very short life span. So far, I’ve outlasted every preceding executive assistant. But then, I’ve also out preformed them.

“I appreciate my job very much.” I slip his tux jacket off the hanger and hold it out. “Just like I’m sure you appreciate the above and beyond I constantly strive to—”

“Abigail.” He slides his arms into the sleeves. “There is a time and place for these conversations.” He steps back, fastening the front button. “Right now, I have important business matters to attend to.” He meets my gaze in the mirror, and raises a brow. “On a Sunday…”

I swallow over the boulder in my throat. Right. He’s about to head off to a company paid for fine dining dinner that probably cost more than months of my overtime.

His cell phone buzzes. “That’s my Limo.” He tucks it into his inside pocket. “Do try not to sulk.”

It’s all I can do to keep my eyeballs from rolling back.

“Oh, and before you lock up, the notes on the recorder in my office.” He paused at the closest door. “They’re to be transcribed for Monday’s 9.00am meeting.”

I suppress a groan. For tomorrow morning, and he gives them to me now…

Fuck. My. Life.

The drive-through attendant hands over a bag.

“Thanks.” I force a smile, and set the food on the passenger seat.

I pull over into the closest free space and open the bag.

A sigh washes over me and my gaze darts through the windscreen to the traffic zooming along the street ahead.

The hunger that was a cramp before is now an unstoppable burn and I know there’s no burger on earth to satiate it.

This is my life now.

My chest clutches and I shake my shoulders.

I chose this life.

This was my choice. The right choice. The only choice.

The only choice I deserved.

My vision clouds and for a moment that other life hovers like a ghost. The scent of skin on my breath. The taste of sin on my tongue.

Danger in my blood.

I gasp, and close the bag. Shake myself again. Blink.

My cellphone beeps. A shudder rolls over me. Mr. Kane wouldn’t be messaging me, now would he? It’s 10.00pm.

I glance at the screen.

Kelly: Did you end up eating at all today?

A snort blasts out of my nose. Given the breadth of my hips, that’s not a worry someone who didn’t know me would have.

I glance at the bag of takeaway.

Me: Just grabbed a burger.

My cellphone beeps almost immediately.

Kelly: Quit that goddamn job.

I exhale. If my dick boss paid out the overtime I have owing maybe I could leave. I’d pay off the credit card debt I accumulated when I had to pay for things like electricity on my own.

Me: I’m trying.

I click out of messages and my thumb seems to almost slip to missed calls.

I stare at the number in red.

In red.

Red, like underlined.

Red, like something important I’ve forgotten to do.

My heart thuds.

Mike. Suddenly, my tongue is wet. My abdomen heavy.

Lungs itchy like there’s some habit my chest aches for.

My lip catches between my teeth. I get out of the car, finger already navigating the internet for what I need.

I stare down at the engine.

Particals of myself I didn’t know I’d shed, come rushing back.

* * *

Blood roars in my ears, muting her tricky lying words.

I scan the engine.

She’s tampered with it.

The thud of my pulse beats like a tribal drum. It’s only the public parking lot keeping me from turning on her like a savage.

I was under this hood earlier today. She’s loosened a spark plug.

To have me come to her.

My gaze snaps up and tears over her.

Her arms fold tight over her chest, squashing those delicious tits.

Well, she’s getting what she asked for—I’ve come.

“I’m afraid we have a problem.”

She staggers a step back. “A problem?”

If my lips weren’t buzzing with the maddening urge to taste her I’d smile. Does she think I’m going to call her out for her sneaky games?

No, there’s far too much fun to be had yet.

“It’s your transmission.” I wipe my hand on my jeans. “I’m afraid it’s blown.”

She blinks. “Oh.”

Oh. My chest expands but I bite back my hiss. I remember her sweet oh’s.

“Really, you’re sure it’s the transmission?” She tucks hair behind her ear, a tremor in her voice.

“Positive.” I lower the hood and let it shut with a thud.

She jolts, but meets my gaze.

The contact sears. She knows, just like I know, there’s not a fucking thing wrong with her transmission.

Her chest rises and falls, and I feel the moment before she speaks like a gavel to my heart. “What will it cost me?”

My guts seize. Cost her? Everything. I stride closer. Everything. Everything. She sways but holds her ground.

I stalk to her. My boots seem to make too much sound.

“Four to five hundred for the transmission. Plus, more for labor.”

I stop close enough to see her in the shitty evening light.

Her nostrils flutter—she’s all flush and bright blush in the frosty night air.

She blinks. My god, those eyes. What have I done all these years without them?

Big, brown eyes with thick lashes concealing what I was the first to ever know. Innocent eyes, on a girl with a hunger for humiliation and the taste for hurt.

Does she miss it?

She must, because look at her now. Look what she’s done. My chest almost rips open. I know exactly what to do with her.

“I can’t afford that.” Her hand drops to her stomach.

I stare at her, unable to prevent one last step closer. One last step that causes her neck to arch in order to hold my gaze. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Oh.” This time her mouth stays open at the end of that sound.

I lean in catching a hit of her fruity shampoo. My midsection clenches. “I’m starving.”

Her gasp stokes the heat in my belly. I’m completely fucking famished.

“Want me to get you a burger?” Her voice shakes.

Perhaps if I were any other man, if I didn’t know her, I’d think she was afraid.

But not her. This girl, she’s on fire from the vulgar implications. That tremble is the ripple of flames.

I look her over, need cannibalizing rational thoughts. Those tits of hers push out with heavy breathing. She’s so damned edible. “I’m hungry for pussy.”

The base of her neck ticks. I can practically hear her pounding heart from here.

“Oh,” she breathes.

My teeth grind. Soon I’ll give her something to oh about.

“You can pay me in dollars.” My voice drops, and I lower my face to her ear. “Or you can pay me in pussy, but one way or another you’re going to pay.”

This time she doesn’t oh, or gasp, but I catch the throaty sound she makes. “Okay.”

That easy.

Hussy, may as well have planned this the whole entire time.

My breath expands. I step aside, and haul open the door of my truck.

She climbs in. Holy shit. The back of her skirt clings to her plump ass.

She’s killing me already.

Death is one skipped heartbeat away.

She scoots over to the far side. “Where are we going?”

“Going?” I climb in after her, shutting the door behind me. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Her eyes strain wide and terrified. Good. I’ll eat her alive.

“Here?” She swallows.

“Yes, right here.” My muscles clutch so hard, I might split into pieces. But it’s her, my beautiful dirty slut, who loves this embarrassment. “Where’s that pussy?”

She rubs her hands on her knees.

“Fine.” I take the waistband of her jeans and yank her hips closer, then work the top button free.

Her chest trembles and her tits bob.

I pry the denim and the scrap of cotton she calls panties, over her hips. Blood rushes hot and thick through me. Goddamn. She’s filled out over the years. The flesh being unveiled is made for sinking teeth into.

I yank it all over her knees, and down her calves. The fabric bunches at her ankles. I reach for her shoe, then stop at the look on her reddened face.

No. I leave the shoes on. Leave her pants just like that, scrunched at her ankles, and lift her feet.

She squeals.

The sound pierces to my core. Her hands fly out, one pressing against the leather beside her, the other flailing for the front seat.

Her knees hit her chest.

Fuck me.

Her slit is shiny, almost dripping. The scent of her delicious shame is thick enough to taste.

I hold her legs up with one hand and reach for her pussy with my other. Her thighs clench tight together.

“You’d better let me get at this.”

Her breaths shudder through the back of the truck. She untenses her thighs. I rub my hand over her pussy.

She jerks. Her clit’s completely swollen already.

I rub the greedy little thing. Her moan ebbs between her lips. Dirty girl. What offends her is what turns her on.

Her hips rise, and her arousal soaks my hand.

I shove two fingers hard up inside her.

“Ohhh…” She groans.

That’s right. That’s how you say oh.

I rub her clit with my free hand, and plunge my fingers deep. Her knees hitch tighter to her chest.

Would you look at fucking that? How hot she is for this.

“Be careful.” I moved my fingers out then shoved them back in hard. Her wet flesh clutches. “If you come on my fingers and spoil my fun, I’m going to have to make you come on my mouth a second time, and that’s going to take twice as long.” I shuffle in closer, needing a better look at her. “Twice as long, right here in the back of my truck in a public parking lot.”

Her breath catches.

I jerk faster. “Paying me in pussy, like a whore.”

I stroke my fingers high up inside her. She makes it so damn easy to find the sweet spot with her knees lifted up like a good girl.

She lets out a moan, then her whole body shakes. I move faster. Her cunt grinds against my knuckles. She contracts, milking my fingers.

Hunger explodes in my guts.

She’s soaked my hand.

Fuck.

She writhes. I let her ride it out. She’d better recover quickly, because I’ll be expecting this reaction again.

* * *

Oh. My. God.

I gasp for air, my whole vagina pulsing with aftershocks.

He withdraws his hand from between my legs and strokes the outside of my thigh. My pulse is ecstatic high-tempo electro pop in my blood.

He pries off one of my shoes, then the other, and tears off my jeans.

My gaze darts out of the window.

Oh, lord.

Anyone could walk past and see us.

A bright spark of something burns inside me. An ember I’d thought died. He jerks my knees apart and buries his face between my legs. His beard rubs my thighs and all over me, as though he’s marking himself.

My skin prickles, follicles rising up over my body.

I grab his hair in my fists.

He licks me, deeply, dragging his tongue up my pussy. The prickle turns to a bone deep shiver. He closes his mouth over my swollen clit. Tension bursts in my sex.

Air rushes from my lungs.

Pleasure explodes over my skin. I squeeze his hair. He eats me like a meal. He grabs my ass, pressing my pussy against his face.

I cover my mouth to blot out a rising scream.

He doesn’t stop. He sucks my clit and looks up at me. His eyes fixed on my face as he devours me. My abdominals engage. I flex, into his touch, into his mouth, into his hunger.

Holy fuck.

Slurps ring through the back of the truck. My thighs clamp around his head. My vision splinters and I erupt.

Spasms contract my limbs.

My fingers tangle in his hair and the pleasure keeps coming.

My knees jerk.

Everything slows, but his mouth keeps working magic.

My thighs fall wider.

Voices drone outside. I catch a glimpse of a passer-by. If he turns his head, he’ll be looking right at me…

My lungs close and I come again.

I pant through the exhaustion. Body like I’ve tried to swim against a tide and lost the fight.

Mike hands over my pants.

I summon the strength to scoot forward and reach for them. My fingers close around the fabric and I freeze.

His eyes are a storm. Turbulent. His gaze thunderous.

I feel as though the top layer of my skin has been chard off and what’s underneath is fresh and new.

But completely raw.

That look in his eyes…

My heart gives one hard thump before it stops.

No!

My lungs won’t work. No. No. No. It’s dark but I see the color of those eyes from this morning. A shade of hazel I’d have recognized if I weren’t so set on forgetting them.

It can’t be.

I swallow and slide my legs into my pants, but I can’t control the shaking of my hands.

It can’t be. Mike. As in Michael…

He still stares at me, and runs a hand over a thick beard. No, it can’t be. I remember Michaels face. The sharp corners of his jaw…

I do up the button on my jeans, and tug on my shoes.

But, I can imagine that jaw now I’ve seen it in my mind. Right under that beard.

“We settled then?” My voice sounds like sandpaper, and that’s exactly what it feels like coming out.

“It seems that way.” He leans back, and his gaze loses its intensity—a shadow over the storm. “Princess.”

Princess.

A tremor moves through my body and soul. I close my eyes. “My dirty little princess.” I open my eyes, and see him. My vision swims yet takes him in. Broad. Rough. Dirty. Not the teen I’d known. I should’ve guessed the towering nineteen-year-old I remembered would fill out into his height. All these years I’ve held the image of a boy so tightly I couldn’t see the man when he arrived.

Fuck. I can’t breathe. Fuck. I grab my chest.

“Gabriella?” He reaches for me.

Adrenaline spikes through me. I lung for the door, and I’m outside, keys jamming into the ignition of my car in two heartbeats.

“Gabriella—”

The scream of my name swarms around me, but my head’s such a rush I can’t tell if I’m hearing the here and now.

Or some past nightmare.