Russ (18+) | ✔

7

Charlotte

"Absolutely not! I know my rights! You can't ma—"

"Listen Harlot. You broke a rule. You can be fired. I can fire you. However," Mr. Grimes sneered. "Because you're good at your job, I've thought of a way to use this situation to our advantage. You, provided that you would like to keep your job after your mandatory three weeks vacation, will play the part of the perfect girlfriend for a measly six months.

"Dates, maybe move in after a month or two, public appearances, hell, become the Instagram couple if you have to, just make it work! You can do it with or without the mask, I don't care. After six months, you're done. You can walk away and Mercer's seen as the heartbroken good guy."

"And if I say no," I asked, keeping my gaze level with the floor as I felt my lower lip begin to tremble.

"Then you're fired and unlikely to get a job anywhere else," replied Mr. Grimes, a satisfied tone in his voice.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nodded slightly. "I'd like a list of rules before I really agree to this," I murmured, clearing my throat.

"Done deal. In the meantime, stay until the paparazzi cools. We'll get you a security detail a—"

"I've got her covered," Russ spoke up, his voice unexplainably gruff as he said the words. "I'll have my brother send someone."

"Well would you look at that, things are already going great! Negotiate your rules. Let's go, Tim," Mr. Grimes said with a fake smile, clapping his hands together in faux excitement.

As the two left out of the penthouse, I allowed a frustrated grunt to leave my lips. This had to be illegal in one way or another.

I don't want a boyfriend. I haven't ever wanted a boyfriend. Why would I? So he can meet my bigoted family and decide I'm not worth it? No thanks.

I'm hardly even welcome to them. If it weren't for my younger brother, I wouldn't communicate with any of them at all.

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I turned to Russ, who was deeply concentrated on looking at me.

"You couldn't convince him to take another route," I asked.

A small unidentifiable noise came from the back of his throat. Then came his response, "He was formulating that plan before he stepped off of the elevator."

"Right," I replied before clearing my throat in nervousness. "Rules?"

"I have no rules. I know you have money, and wouldn't go after mine, right?"

I nodded, unable to comprehend most of what was actually happening.

"And I'd also like to be able to find you... You know with find my iPhone or something," he requested nervously. Obviously, my expression conveyed my aversion to the stipulation. "There was an incident with my little sister and, if it hadn't been for the tracker on her phone, we would have never met."

Emotion filled his voice as he talked about Freddi. It was true that he had only met her fairly recently, but it was also very true that he and his brothers cared strongly for their younger sibling.

So I agreed, making a mental note to get the full story about what had happened.

"Any rules?"

"Just one," I answered, swallowing the lump in my throat. "No sex."

. . .

"If I make you squirt ten times, will you agree?"

"What the hell, n— Wait ten?"

For the last thirty minutes, Russ had been attempting to argue that having sex would make us seem like more of a couple.

He had tried being louder than me, and at one point just gave up and started speaking Spanish. This was the only time he had attempted to sex me into agreeing, which in a way was kind of sweet, in a rather messed up way.

"Yes, and I don't mean cumming. I could do that easily. But no. You're gonna squirt for me, ten times," he answered.

We had moved to the kitchen and we're now at the breakfast bar. I was leaning on the counter and closed my eyes as I thought about his proposal, biting my lip as though it would help me think. With my eyes closed, I didn't see him, nor did I sense Russ move until he was behind me, his pelvis pressed against my ass.

"Ten?" I whispered the question, contemplating if the pleasure would be worth the pain that likely accompanied it.

"And I'll bet I'll do it in twenty minutes, see if I can beat my old record of four," he whispered, grinding his erection on my ass, his warm breath ghosting over my skin.

I held back an involuntary shiver as Russ's words registered in my mind. Beat his old record?

"You're overthinking again," he murmured, his hands wrapping around me to unbutton my jeans.

"What would you expect me to do?"

"Enjoy," his gruff voice answered as his calloused fingers slipped into my underwear. His fingers made no move to stimulate me, they simply sat there, providing a surface for me to automatically grind myself on.

"When does the timer start," I asked, whimpering in discomfort as Russ's hand left my pants.

Pulling off my hat, and tossing it on the bar, in a low, commanding tone, Russ gave his reply.

"Drop your bottoms."

😊✌