“Jordan Loft, my man,” Miles said with a wickedly satisfied smile as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of me. There was a devilish twinkle in his eye. He was getting off on this. Pleasure built hard-and-fast inside of me before ebbing away. “No, Whitney won’t be at the author mixer tonight,” he said, flicking his eyes to my bound wrists. There was a devious satisfaction in his voice. “She’s a little tied up at the moment.”
