Engaged To The Tycoon

Chapter 8

My face was on fire. “Wh—what? You've been... checking up on me?"

It seemed as though he was having trouble understanding why I would ask such a question because he displayed the barest hint of bewilderment on his face. He responded with "Of course" If we are going to get married, it is important that I know what kind of person I will be marrying.

Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. What else was it that he was aware of? What was he trying to hide from me?

Silva Bryan had the ability to see straight through me. He was an expert in every field.

He was aware of it as well. As he stood idly and ambled over to where I was standing, I could see it in his eyes.

"Of course, you would have unlimited time to work on your artwork as well if this were the case," the person said. No more slaving behind the bar for you. You are no longer allowed to accept gifts from your mother. You will no longer have to throw your works of art down a flight of stairs in order to relocate since you lack the financial means to take the larger pieces with you.

I felt a tightening in my chest. That has never happened to anyone before. But it had been painful. Oh, it had been so painful.

I was forced to retreat until I was up against the floor-to-ceiling window behind me, where I pressed my body firmly against the panes of glass. He continued to get closer.

He stretched out and ran a finger along my cheek, down my throat, and down between the valley of my breasts as he did so.

He remarked, "There are a few little conditions in the contract that I thought you might find... distasteful." "I thought you would find distasteful." His voice had taken on a quality that was almost ethereal, but I could hardly make out what he was saying over the pounding in my brain caused by the blood loss. "However, taking into consideration how badly you want me, I don't believe that will be an issue."

How badly you want to have me. Yes, I did. Oh my gosh, beyond everything I'd ever wanted from another person. If she kissed me, I was certain that I would explode for no apparent reason.

"I don't want you," I said. Even to my own ears, I was able to hear the arousal in the back of my throat.

His eyelashes wiggled nervously. His finger moved across my breast, and when it arrived at my n****e, he wrapped his thumb and forefinger around it. He then continued moving his finger across my breast.

He questioned me by asking, "What did you say?"

My tongue was so dry that I had to swallow around it. I repeated my earlier statement, but this time I raised my voice: "I don't want you."

He twisted my n****e while he was pinching it.

The reaction was electrifying; a wave of agonizing pleasure raced all the way from my n****e to my heart and then all the way down to my c**t. I let out a scream as my knees began to buckle. Both my pocketbook and the contract were lost when my trembling hands let go.

Silva Bryan admonished his friend, saying, "Don't lie to me."

I didn't answer.

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He settled in there.

He did not touch me in any way. To be honest, no. He touched various parts of my body with the tips of his fingers, but he avoided my flesh as though it would cause him discomfort if he touched it directly. His lips moved up the knit of my sweater, starting at my waist and moving outward until they reached the outside of my hip. His hands lightly brushed over my privates, locating the delicate wrinkles were my privates met my thighs. He went down the backs of my legs with his dull fingernails and scratched them. They were so far away that I could hardly feel them through my jeans.

I had the want to grab his face and cram it down my pants, but I restrained myself. I required his lips to be on me and his c**k to be in me. My hands lingered close to his head, on the edges of his ears, but I dared not touch him out of fear of hurting him.

The end of his nose grazed across the front of my jeans as it came into contact with my hip. He halted right at the crease between my thighs, took a long breath, and continued.

He stood up and leaned in closer to me as he pressed his hands up against the glass that was behind me. His lips brushed against my ear, and as his body came closer, I could finally feel the pressure of his c**k, which was entrapped in his jeans, pressing up against my stomach.

"I can smell you," he murmured in my ear. "I can smell you." "Your p***y has already started pleading for me to penetrate it,

Yes. God, sure. My c**t hurt, and my cunt was tight and uncomfortable to the point where I thought it may burst. I was so aroused that I couldn't even pretend it wasn't happening anymore. My breath was coming out rapid and heated. It felt like a furnace was hovering over my body while the thick mass of his erection pressed firmly against my stomach. His body was hovering over mine.

I struggled to take in enough air. I felt like I was about to pass out.

If you agree to the terms of the contract, you will be able to achieve all of your goals. He rubbed his c**k all over me while rolling his hips, almost but not quite coming close enough to touch against my p***y. My underwear was drenched and slippery with my own bodily fluids. Then his lips brushed over my pounding pulse as they traced their way to my throat.

My body was engulfed in flames, which radiated outward from the points where he touched me. My hands shot up, and I grabbed hold of his shoulders. Under that white linen shirt, he was a mass of hard lines and solid muscle, and he felt just as good as he looked. My palms tightened into fists as he ran his fingers along the hem of my sweater. I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. After that, he slid them beneath me in a painful manner and brushed his fingertips across my stomach as he did so.

I really wanted to tell him to put an end to that. I was helpless to stop him from continuing.