“Mr. Powers,” I whisper, and then almost scream when he pulls out and turns me around facing him.

“Oh my God.” For a moment, I almost touch myself, but reach back and dig my nails into his desk as I try to breathe and not humiliate myself further by begging.

His blue eyes narrow as he watches me with that smug smirk on his handsome face. My hands are starting to ache from clawing the wood. It’s either that or claw him.

His eyes dip to my breasts and lower. His sperm slides down the inside of my thigh. With my panties soaked and my dress still around my waist, I’ve gone from looking magnificent, to a drowned rat in a matter of minutes. I can only imagine my makeup.

“Baby, my pretty baby.” His voice makes my eyes dart back to his as he reaches for my chin and softly whispers into my lips, “You look desperate.”

“Why are you doing this?” I almost want to cry. I was perfect, and if I’m going to be ruined, you’d think he’d let me come.

“Why do you think?” He brushes his lips on mine, and this time I do feel tears in my eyes.

“Because you’re some kind of fucked-up control freak who only cares about himself?” I burst out.

He watches me with that stare of his that I’m beginning to hate, yet love. Then he throws his head back and laughs.

Laughs.

“Whatever, asshole.” I try to move away because I’m done. But he grabs my arm.

“Easy, Raven. I like your sassy mouth, but if you keep it up, those tears of frustration you’re having are going to be because my cock is so far down your throat you’re gagging.” He easily lifts me up under my arms and sets me gently on his desk.

I go to slide off, because I’m done. I’m clearly out of my element, my core is swollen and throbbing, all I want to do is come, and I hate Jett Powers.

“Look, you’re my mom’s fiancé. I should never—”

“That’s right, Raven. I am your mother’s fiancé. Who was just inside you. Now, I asked you to do one simple thing, and you can’t seem to handle that.”

“Holy fuck,” I hiss, trying to jump off the desk. I have to get away from him. He’s way too powerful up close.

“You can’t talk to me like that,” I fire right back, even though that was a terrible comeback, and he raises a dark brow at me, not even offended. If anything, he looks like my words make him want to laugh.

“We’re late, my beauty.” He takes my other ankle and I moan, then want to die, because he heard that.

“You can’t win.” It’s a statement, not a question and I glare at him.

“Mr. Powers?”