The CEO's Contractual Wife

The fantasy playing in my head shifted and evolved. Alexander was above me now, his powerful body caging mine as he thrust into me. I could almost feel the weight of him, the heat of his skin against mine.

“You’re so wet for me, Liv,” Alexander growled in my ear. “So fucking tight around my cock.”

“Yes,” I gasped, adding a fourth finger, stretching myself wider. It wasn’t enough, could never be enough compared to what I imagined he would feel like.

My thumb pressed harder against my clit, circling faster as my fingers pumped in and out. My pussy clenched around them, walls fluttering as I approached the edge.

“Fuck, I’m close,” I panted, pinching my nipple hard between my fingers. The sharp pain mingled with pleasure, pushing me higher.

In my mind, Alexander’s pace increased, his thrusts becoming harder and more demanding. His hand wrapped around my throat, applying just enough pressure to make my head swim.

“Come for me,” Alexander demanded. “Now, Liv. Fucking come on my cock.”

My back bowed off the couch as the orgasm hit me like a freight train. Waves of pleasure crashed through me, my pussy clamping down on my fingers as I cried out.

“Alexander!” His name tore from my throat as I came, my body shaking with the force of it.

For several long moments, I couldn’t move, couldn’t think beyond the pulses of pleasure still rippling through me. My fingers remained buried inside my pussy, aftershocks making my inner walls clench around them.

“Holy shit,” I breathed when I could finally form words again. I slowly withdrew my fingers, wincing slightly at the sensitivity.

I lay there on my couch, half–naked and panting, staring at the ceiling. Had I really just had the most intense orgasm of my life while fantasizing about Alexander Carter? My fake fiancé? My boss?

“This is so fucked up,” I muttered, pushing myself into a sitting position.

My legs felt like jelly as I stood, grabbing my discarded leggings and panties from the floor. I made my way to the bathroom on unsteady feet, tossing the clothes into the hamper.

thoroughly debauched: hair

grip, Olivia,” I muttered to my reflection. “It’s just

your legs weak

doesn’t mean anything,” I told myself firmly, grabbing a washcloth and running it under warm

sensitivity between my legs. My body felt both relaxed and wound tight at the same

when you go from a relationship to a contract marriage in a short

1/3

Chapter 50

the hamper. “Your hormones are confused.

wondering what Alexander would think if he could see

on? Both?

I said, flicking off the bathroom

even as I said it, a small voice in my head whispered: Unless

naked into my bedroom.

inviting, sheets cool and crisp against my overheated skin as I slid between them. I hadn’t bothered putting

–

like a cat. There

the nightstand. I grabbed it, half expecting it

just an email notification about a sale at my favorite online store. I tossed the phone back down,

wrong with me?” I groaned, flopping onto my back. “I don’t want

was Alexander’s face, that knowing smirk, those intense eyes that