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.

who stared back at me from the bathroom mirror looked thoroughly debauched: hair wild, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from where I’d

I muttered to my

the kind that left your legs weak and

doesn’t mean anything,” I told myself firmly, grabbing a washcloth and running it under warm water. “Just because you got off thinking about him doesn’t mean

the sensitivity between my legs. My body felt both relaxed and wound tight at the same time, like I’d scratched an itch

relationship to a

1/3

Chapter 50

hamper. “Your hormones are confused. That’s

think if he could see me now. Would he

on? Both?

that it matters,” I said, flicking off the bathroom light. “He’s not here, and

small voice in my head whispered: Unless

said firmly, padding naked into

slid between them. I hadn’t bothered putting clothes back on why bother when I lived alone, and the air conditioning kept my apartment at the perfect

–

nice,” I sighed, stretching out like a cat. There was

it, half expecting it to be Alexander, somehow knowing

sale at my favorite online store. I tossed

back. “I don’t want to hear

clear my mind. But all I could see was Alexander’s face, that knowing smirk, those intense eyes that seemed to see right through