by Kate Benson
I damn sure can’t put this off until Monday morning.
“I’m sorry,” she tries once more, but I’m not interested in her apology. I’m only interested in one thing. “I just-”
“That’s enough, Miss Baxter,” I cut her off, watching her eyes fall slightly for a moment as I clear my throat. “Your place or mine?”
Chapter Nine
Isabella
We’re barely inside the elevator in the high rise he calls home when he presses me roughly against the wall, his hands reaching for the bar at my waist and caging me in. He kisses me fiercely, the taste of him intoxicating me in ways the merlot only wishes it could. The drive over had sobered me up some, but in mere seconds, his tongue grazing mine has me drunk all over again.
My hands fly to the lapels of his designer suit, gripping them in my fists to keep him close until his hands find my wrists and yank them down to the bar. His palms rest over mine, confining me and setting something low in my belly into flames. My eyes flutter only just slightly to find his already boring into mine, the intensity there unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
My thoughts are foggy, my body buzzing all over, somehow going numb in some places and sparking to life in all the others as his mouth trails over my jaw. I’m losing my senses and fast when the sharp ping of the elevator pulls his lips from mine, my only sign that I’m no longer floating.
“Come,” he rasps, releasing his hold on me only to reach for my hand and pull me behind him.
Despite how frazzled he’s got me, I can’t help but release a slight gasp as my feet begin to instinctively slow.
“Wait… are we on the wrong floor?” I ask, taking in my opulent surroundings we’re stepping into. He said he was taking me home with him, but from the looks of it, we’ve found ourselves back in something close to the main lobby. “I thought we were going to your place.”
“This is my place,” he says low, leading me across the marble floor and entering a code into a keypad before pushing the massive door he stands at open. “Come in.”
I step through the door and instantly, my eyes go wide.
We’re in the fucking penthouse.
“Fuck me,” I whisper, the feel of my coat coming off despite my frozen frame merely an afterthought.
“Oh, don’t worry, Miss Baxter,” he whispers against my neck, his hot breath running over my skin as his front presses into my back, making my eyes flutter shut. “I intend to.”
I’m about to respond, to say what I’ve got no fucking clue, but before I can he spins me to face him, his strong grip on my lower waist the only thing keeping me on my own two feet. His eyes find mine as his lips brush against my chin.
His hand bunches around the fabric of my dress, the delicate silk cinching tighter around me.
“You taste like a delicious sin,” he husks, holding my eyes. “What are you wearing under this?”
“Nothing,” I admit, my cheeks heating slightly as I give him a subtle shake of my head. “Just a thong.”
“Leave that on for now,” he orders quietly against my lips as his gaze holds mine, the feel of his fingertips sliding the zipper at the back down effortlessly. “Take the rest off.”
He takes a few steps away, removing his jacket and tossing it over the back of a nearby chair before moving to the small bar a few feet away. I watch him reach for two glasses filling them both with amber liquor. I hold the fabric close to my chest, swallowing hard as his eyes meet mine. Something in his gaze either gives me courage or makes me stupid, of which I can’t be sure, but either way, I release it and blush as I feel it pooling around my feet.
“Hmm…” he hums, taking a long, languid sip of his drink as his eyes travel over me before coming back, handing me a glass and taking my other hand in his. “Good girl.”
I can feel the coldness of the marble on my bare feet, the night sky illuminating the low lit rooms he leads me through quietly, the only sound my heavy breathing and the ice clanking in his glass. I sense him turning to face me in the dark, but before I can process it, his lips are already on mine.
He uses his grip on my hand to pull me closer, holding me in place as he deepens our kiss.
“Hold this and finish yours,” he whispers against my lips as he hands me his glass, releasing his hold and moving one hand to my waist, resting the other one over my neck possessively. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” I nod, standing as still as I can.
The weight of his glass and the heat of my drink hitting my belly are the only things keeping me grounded. I’m eager to please him for reasons I don’t understand, but for the first time, I don’t question, either.
When he returns he pulls me forward, his backward steps leading us to the massive bed centered in the middle of his bedroom. As he slowly sits, his lips travel low with him, his tongue tracing over my body in smooth strokes that have my skin heated in all he right places.
He seats himself on the edge of the bed, the hand resting on my waist dipping lower, gripping the back of my knee to straddle him.
“Sit,” he commands gently, setting my empty glass to the side before taking his own, the light pouring in from the glass wall looking out over the city behind us illuminating him just enough to reveal his heavy gaze. He sips from it, draining it as he holds my eyes before setting it on the end table beside mine and returning his cool lips to my skin, tasting my collarbone. “You might just be naughty after all, Isabella,” he hisses seductively against my skin. “You promised me you weren’t the kind of girl who did this kind of thing, but you are, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I whisper breathlessly as his tongue swipes up the side of my neck, coming to a slow stop at the hollow of my ear.
“Well, you’ve got me here. You’re in my bed,” he teases, nipping at my skin before he clamps lightly onto my chin with his teeth, finding my heavy gaze. “What do you intend to do with me?”
I bite my lip in anticipation, the wine wearing off just enough to remind me of what a huge mistake this could turn out to be, but the wave of desire coursing through me strong enough to not care.
Before I have time to change my mind, I set my grip back onto his chest and pull his lips to mine once more.
If Monday’s already going to be awkward, I’m damn sure going to make it worth my while.
This time as I press my lips against his, I kiss him deep and without abandon. Using my palms, I press against his shoulders, willing him to lie back. He does what I want, but something in his expression tells me the control I’m being given isn’t something I should grow used to.
The amber liquor kicks in at the same time his thick cock throbs against the thin fabric separating me from him. Instantly, my thirst for him increases tenfold, making me wild.
Desperate for his skin, I surprise even myself when I slide my fingers into the fabric of his dress shirt and yank, sending a barrage of buttons to scatter over the mattress before rolling onto the floor.
“That was a seven hundred dollar dress shirt,” he husks, his fingertips running from its place on my thigh and moving up toward the globe of my exposed ass.
“You live in a penthouse,” I blurt. “I figured you were like a prince or something.”
“Oh, Isabella,” he chuckles darkly against my lips, his fingertips biting into the flesh of my ass before the other moves to my neck, gripping me there possessively once more. “I am many things, but a prince isn’t one of them.”
Adam
Before she can formulate a response, I flip her onto her back and pin her against the mattress with enough force to pull a low gasp from her. In one swift movement, her wrists are in one of my hands and held over her head as I hover over her. Her eyes widen as they meet mine and I grip her jaw once more, holding her in place and taking the deep kiss I crave.
Her lower lip stays clamped between my teeth as I lower my hand to her breast, sharply pinching her nipple between my fingers and pulling a second sharp gasp from her, this time making her h
ips buck into mine.
“Adam…” she moans against my mouth, making my cock swell.
“What did I tell you to call me, Isabella?” I hum as I move my lips down her neck at a torturously slow pace, coming to a stop at her neglected nipple to taste her.
“Mr. Avery,” she hums, pulling my eyes back to hers as my palm moves to the front of her panties, the lace thong now drenched in her desire.
“Hmm,” I hum against her mouth, the sight of her spread out beneath me, her movements confined and completely at my mercy sending a familiar jolt of adrenaline through me. “Good girl,” I husk against her lips as my fingers twist the lace covering her and yank, the rip of the fabric drowned out by her whimper.
I free myself quickly and shove into her, the feel of her stretching around me as she hisses out an expletive pulling a low growl from me.
Her pussy is divine, it clings to my shaft and instantly has me craving more of her. Hooking my arm under her knee, I spread her wider and raise slightly, pushing inside her deep and all at once. Something in the back of my mind tells me I should take her slow, but my body won’t let me. It craves her, wants to ravage her, so that’s exactly what I do. I pound into her, the sound of our flesh slick with her desire as she cries out in pleasure the only proof I need that she craves me just as much.
“Shit,” she hisses as her pussy begins to clench, her breaths staggered as her heavy gaze finds mine. “I’m about to… Jesus Christ…” her limbs seize around me and I release my grip on her hands, savoring in the way they fly to my shoulders, her fingers winding into my hair. I drive into her faster. “Oh, my God!”
“I told you to call me Mr. Avery,” I chuckle against her neck before biting into her flesh, the sounds of her crying out only driving me crazier with lust. “Now, come for me.”
Her orgasm takes her, the sensation of it washing over my cock only spurring me on. The limbs that were once tight now relax beneath me, melting into the mattress, melting into me.
She’s coming down, but I’m not ready to let her go. Not yet, anyway.
Pulling out, I bend to lap at her release, unwilling to let even a drop of it be wasted. Her taste pulls a growl from me as she grips at my wrists, still caging her in. I clean her hungrily as her pants continue to bounce off the walls around us. She moves one hand to my hair and grips hard as I suck her clit, sending her into the pits of oblivion once more. I raise to find her eyes on mine, her heavy breathing tainted with desperation.
“Son of a bitch,” she pants. “That was amazing.”
Her words bring a soft chuckle from my chest, my lips quirking up slightly on either side as I come to a stand, finally stripping myself of my clothing as I stare down at her.
“Well, I hope you don’t think I’m done with you yet,” I sip from my abandoned drink and watch her swallow hard before stalking back toward the bed. “Flip onto your stomach and get that pretty little ass in the air, Miss Baxter. We’re just getting started.”
Chapter Ten
Isabella
I wake the next morning in his massive bed, alone and aching all over in the most delicious ways possible.
I roll over onto my side, taking inventory of my jelly filled limbs and pounding head, still objecting to the amount of wine I’d consumed.
The room is bright as the daylight pours in, the panoramic view of the bay before me simply breathtaking. As tempted as I might be, I know walking to the edge of the window isn’t something I’m capable of just yet. Instead, I sit up slowly, holding the front of his sheet over my bare breasts as the remaining fabric pools low around my waist and take in the view of the city I’d been far too distracted to appreciate last night.
Last night…
As the memory of him inside me, claiming me, taking me… It all flashes back into my mind and I can’t help the low whimper that leaves my lips.
Being with Adam was by far one of the most erotic things I’ve ever experienced. On a carnal level, there was nothing to regret, but on a logical level?
Jesus, Isabella, I think to myself. You fucked your boss.
“What the hell were you thinking you stupid, stupid girl?” I whisper, rubbing my palms over my face in mortification.
I give myself the much needed few minutes of self-loathing I tend to reserve for monumental fuck-ups such as these. I know I have to get out of here. I know the idea of standing my boss up the morning after I’ve fucked him is probably among my worst to date, but if I’m going down, it may as well be with a bang… well, another one anyway.
I listen carefully for any sign of him on the other side of his cracked bedroom door, but am met with silence. Surely he’s out there somewhere. He isn’t stupid enough to leave me here alone. For all he knows, I’m a crazy stalker or a raging klepto. I can’t imagine you find yourself spearheading a multi-billion dollar company in your early thirties by making dumb decisions like that.
Before I’ve etched out the details of my master escape, my bladder has had enough and tugs my thoughts in a more basic direction.
I have to pee.
I have to pee and while only seconds ago I’d been thankful there had been no sign of Adam, I’m now cursing the fact as my eyes search for any promise of a bathroom.
I find three doors, the irony of that number not escaping me as I try to decide which one to choose. Briefly recalling he stepped into one last night before I’d had so many orgasms I’m sure I blacked out, I decide my fate and slip from the bed, sheet still in tow. I shuffle across the cold marble, trying me best to move silently. Regardless of the fact that I can still taste the salt of his skin on my lips and the reminder of having him inside me is all I can think of, there’s something ridiculously yet completely terrifying on such a basic level about him finding me lost in his penthouse wearing only a bedsheet.
Shaking the thought, I twist the knob and pull the door open, unable to stifle the quiet gasp of surprise when the distinct smell of leather and the sound of metal clanking against the back of the door cause me to glance up.
This is definitely not his bathroom.
“Holy…”
“I don’t recall giving you permission to open that door, Isabella,” he says low from behind me, making me jump in surprise as I turn to face him.
“I have to pee,” I blurt, my cheeks heating as I take in his smoldering expression, his still bare chest and his messy I-just-fucked-my-employee-into-oblivion-all-night hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know which door was the bathroom.”
He stares back at me for a moment, seeming to search my features, for what I’ve no idea, before slowly closing the distance between us and shutting the still opened door behind me. As the latch catches, the tassels from the flogger that will be forever engrained in my mind brushes against the door and I swallow hard before bravely moving my eyes back to his. He glances over his shoulder at me, his hot breath fresh with the scent of mint.
“The bathroom is right over here,” he says quietly, gesturing for me to follow him to the second door. I can’t keep my eyes off of him as he moves fluidly across the room in a pair of tight boxer briefs. Jesus. He pushes it open, his eyes following my movements as I step over the threshold. “Feel free to shower. Towels are on the counter and there’s a robe on the back of the door.”
“Thanks,” I manage with a nod, stepping inside and waiting for him to close the door before I let my eyes shut tight.
Flashes of what was behind that door, the taste of his breath mixed with the smell of the leather invade my senses, making me clench my thighs together slightly as it all clicks neatly into place.
“No wonder he’s good with locks,” I whisper to myself, my cheeks heating as the words slip past my lips.
I shake my head clear and move toward the sink, cringing when I take in my wild hair and the smeared makeup leftover from the night before.
“Jesus, I look like a train wreck,” I shudder, dropping the sheet and eagerly moving toward the massive glass shower once I’ve shut my bladder up.
I lather quickly, cursing my own speed as the warmth from the water hits my aching muscles but still hell bent on getting out of here as soon as possible. The feeling should probably make me feel dirty, but I’m trying everything I can to justify my need to flee by telling myself I’m simply offering him an easy out.
I’m being a good guest.
My final contribution to Avery Finance before he cans my ass on Monday morning.
“Fuck my life,” I whisper to myself, taking a small moment to appreciate the smell of his body wash on my skin before I twist the knobs in front of me and step out.
I reach for one of his heavy towels and pat my face dry before wrapping it around me tight, perhaps absentmindedly hoping it will hold me together long enough to get back to my apartment without incident.
I find a new toothbrush on the edge of the sink and the wave of gratitude swirling in my chest is perhaps unlike any that’s ever come before it.
Once I’ve tended to myself and find the silk robe exactly where he’d promised it would be, I slip it over my shoulders, silently wondering how many women had worn it before me. My insecurities settle as I take in his scent alone and secure the sash before swallowing back my nerves and stepping back into his bedroom.
I hope to find it empty again, but instead, I find him sitting on the edge of the bed, nursing a steaming cup of coffee as he stares down at his feet. Hearing me, his gaze lifts and I find the same smoldering expression he’d held a few moments prior laced with his own uncertainty.
“Better?” he asks, sitting up slightly to face me as I give him a nod. “Good,” he sighs, his eyes moving to the items lying on the mattress beside him. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, but I think your other clothes are ruined. They certainly are for the time being. I couldn’t very well ask you to go home in my robe, so I took the liberty of having a few things delivered,” he gestures toward the clothing.
