by Kendall Ryan
I drain the last drops of wine from my glass and strike out in the direction he just headed, determined to confront him.
A little niggling in the back of my alcohol-induced brain reminds me that the answers I get may not be the answers I want.
Chapter Thirteen
Dominic
“Good night. I love you.”
I haven’t even hung up my phone before Presley bursts into the bedroom where I came to have a little privacy. Every evening, Emilia and Lacey need a good-night from Daddy before they can settle into bed. Fran started this ritual, and it’s one that I look forward to . . . I just wish the timing of it had been better. I didn’t want to leave Presley alone on the balcony after our moment, but there was no choice.
“Who was that?” Presley’s cheeks are stained pink.
Standing next to the bed, I pocket my phone. “I was just about to rejoin you on the balcony.”
She stands her ground, and I take a step closer.
“It’s really not your business,” I say, keeping my tone even.
“Are you seeing someone else?”
Fuck, she’s even hotter when she’s angry. “I’m not seeing anyone.”
“Then who were you talking to?”
I swallow. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not?” she asks, her hands falling to her sides. She seems genuinely perplexed. But there’s no way in hell I’m telling her I was on the phone with my two toddlers.
“It’s not personal, Presley. There are very few people who know about my private life. I can count them on one hand. I like to keep it that way. The phone call was a family matter.”
Presley opens her mouth to object and then snaps it shut. She seems somewhat saddened by what I’ve said; the color drains from her cheeks and her gaze drops to the floor at her feet. “A family matter,” she repeats.
Could I have hurt her feelings?
“Trust me,” I say, not entirely sure what I mean. “It has no bearing on our arrangement.” I take a step toward her, and her eyes flash up to mine.
“Right,” she says, her voice cracking under the guise of strength. “Just because we’re sharing a bed doesn’t mean that we’re sharing our lives.”
Sharing a bed? Why didn’t it occur to me that there was only one bed? Or that we’d be spending the night in it together? Well, that’s going to be one hell of a cock tease, complete with my least-favorite bedtime story ever, Goodnight Hard-On.
“Well, you’re welcome to the floor, if you’d prefer,” I say, flashing her a smile.
She scoffs and swats my arm. “No way.”
That little move has her wobbling a bit, so I steady her with one hand. I lean in so my words are a whisper in her ear.
“In that case, I promise to uphold your purity.” I squeeze her arm slightly, noting the goose bumps rising on her skin.
She leans back a little to meet my eyes. Searching.
“I’m not so pure,” she says in a low voice, and fuck if I don’t feel all my blood rush from my head into my sorely neglected cock. “I’ve done things before.”
“Makes sense. Men must be lining up,” I say, fighting off a smirk.
I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol, her proximity, or Oliver’s words finally getting through to me, but suddenly, I don’t want to hide the attraction I have for her. It’s not like she didn’t feel it when she was splayed over my lap earlier today, my dick hard against her warm center. And for some reason, when I’m with her, it’s easy to forget she works for me.
“So what if they are?” she asks with a playful look, her head tilting.
The dim light of the overhead fixture catches her eyes, and I’m struck speechless for a moment. She’s beautiful. Stunning, even.
“What are you waiting for, then?” My mouth is just inches from hers now. There’s no more eye contact, just the connection of our mingling breaths.
“Love.”
Are you fucking serious?
I pull back. I’m about ready to ravish this woman, and as soon as she brings up the L-word, I’m as soft as a bowl of pudding. Turning away, I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Fuck. I need some space.
“What?” she asks, bewildered by my shift in mood.
“It’s a fraud.” I turn back with a shrug.
“What is?”
“Love.”
“So you’ve had your heart broken,” she says, her voice like a nurse’s just before administering a shot.
And yeah, I’ll admit, it stings that she’s pegged me so quickly.
“More than once,” I say, not trying to hide the cynicism in my voice. “I’m not exactly looking for the ‘real deal’.”
Been there, done that. Women have tried before to save me from myself, from my doubts and self-made walls, to no avail.
“That’s why you hire escorts,” she says.
Presley has me cornered and she knows it. I’m on her examining table, and she’s going to keep poking and prodding until she gets the complete diagnosis.
Not if I have anything to say about it.
“Tell me about your past relationships,” she says.
“Pass.”
She rolls her eyes. This may be a casual conversation to her, but it’s pretty jarring for me. I realize I have my fists clenched at my sides. Fighting for control, I relax my hands.
“You’re not married are you?” she asks, voice unsure.
My eyes flash to hers. “God, Presley, of course not. Do you really think what happened in the limo would have if I were married?”
She takes a deep breath, shaking her head. “I didn’t think so. But I had to ask.” She steps toward me, her eyes like flashlights into my darkest corners. “Okay, let’s try an easier question. What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for someone?”
“I’m not really romantic.” I rub my thumb across my lip, my eyes never straying from her.
“Come on, there must have been something.”
“An all-expenses-paid trip around the world.”
Her eyes widen, and her jaw hangs open. “Seriously?”
“And a thousand Persian roses, with little dewdrops made of diamonds. Oh, and one time, horseback riding, but we were both naked—”
She bursts out laughing. “All right, fine. I get it.”
I can’t help the genuine smile tugging on my lips.
She’s still giggling when I slide one arm around her waist to assist with her lack of balance, and help her sit down on the edge of the bed. Our bed.
“Whoa, there . . .”
As soon as she’s settled, she releases a pleased sigh, her cheeks rosy with laughter. I kneel on the carpet before her, our hands intertwined in her lap.
“You’re so graceful,” I say, lifting an eyebrow.
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, shut up. I already know I’m not anything like your fancy escorts.”
“No, you’re not.”
Her face galls, but then I lift her hand to my lips, and press a soft kiss there that’s reminiscent of our first date. She sucks in a quiet breath, her chest rising with anticipation.
Looking at her now with her long dark hair mussed, her little black dress pushing and pulling at her body in all the right ways . . . I want her. Before I can think too hard about it, I lean into her and inhale against her neck. She shivers.
I could tease this woman forever and never get bored.
Presley isn’t in the mood to be teased, however. She yanks at my tie, her lips making contact with my throat as she kisses a little line across my Adam’s apple.
I release a sharp exhale and lift her chin, pressing my lips to hers. Presley’s hooded eyes sink closed.
My kisses start soft, just chaste presses of my lips to hers. But ever eager to please, Presley parts her lips, and then I’m tasting her. Wine mixes with the sweet flavor of Presley as our tongues touch. She makes a soft, hungry noise in the back of her throat as I thread my hands through her silky hair, tilting her head back.
Pressing hot, hungry kisses against her neck, I’m eager to hear more of the sounds she made in the car. I promised I’d take my time with her, but she’s testing my patience like no other woman has.
My lips never leave her skin as I lay her back onto the bed, and we roll into the center together. Her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt. Her body is so warm, so soft. I want to pin her down, press myself against her, claim her . . .
When she murmurs my name, I drag my teeth lightly across her collarbone, and her hips jolt. My hand slides down her side to cup her round ass, pulling her firmly against me. The way she rubs against me, I can tell that she feels my hard length against her thigh.
“Tell me,” I whisper as I kiss down her chest.
I can tell she’s aching for me to touch her breasts. I want to, but not as badly as I want her to want it. Massaging her perfect ass with one hand, I trail the other in a tantalizing line down her breastbone. Lower and lower, I drag my fingertips lightly over the soft material of her dress.
“T-tell you what?” She can hardly speak, she’s so turned on.
“What sort of things have you done before?” I slide my fingers up the back of her dress, over the skin of one smooth thigh, and reach the dangerously soft skin of her hips and waist. I play with the string of her thong, lifting it from her hip bone and pulling it down, ever so slowly. From my vantage point, I can see her chest rising and falling.
“I don’t know . . . Things,” she says, then gasps with a swallow.
On my knees now, situated between her legs, I lightly graze my fingers down the center of her belly toward the juncture between her thighs. She sucks in another breath, her hips wiggling on the bed.
Patience, Presley.
“What sort of things?” Giving a tug to the skimpy fabric, I pull her thong down to her ankles. I kiss her knees as I untangle it from her heels, sliding the silken material into my pocket. “Things like this?”
I lick the line of her inner thigh, punctuating the trail with a hard suck. She moans and then laughs a little, breathlessly. I push her dress up on her hips, revealing her perfect pink pussy. Fucking hell, is there anything more beautiful?
“Or things like this?” I bring my lips to the needy spot between her thighs, but I don’t touch her yet, using my hot breath to drive her crazy.
“Mmm,” she whimpers, and my cock presses painfully against my zipper.
Fuck patience.
I part her with my tongue, tasting her with a confident motion. She groans, pushing herself against my mouth. Between soft kisses to her sweet center, I find myself moaning. The vibrations send her reeling, her fingers finding purchase in my hair.
Now that I have her taste on my tongue, I can’t stop. I press my tongue into her warmth and almost come in my fucking pants. She’s so sweet. So tight and tempting. Her fingers rake against my scalp, and she makes needy noises of pleasure.
I hook my thumbs around her hip bones to give myself more leverage against her eager motions. She’s panting with short, high-pitched breaths that tell me she’s close to coming. Focusing on her clit, I suck away at her last efforts of composure.
“Dom!” she shouts.
Presley.
I slide one hand up her body to find her breast, pulling a nipple between forefinger and thumb. With the most maddening, soft whimpering sounds I’ve ever heard, Presley grinds herself right against my face, and I’m lost.
Chapter Fourteen
Presley
I’ve never felt anything so intense. My thighs quake and my hips shove against Dominic’s mouth in uncontrollable desperation, in my need to be even closer. The sensation is almost too much, but I’m not about to back down now. I’m so close, so maddeningly close.
“Please,” I whimper. “I can’t take it, don’t stop!”
I’m not making any sense, but it doesn’t matter when his incredible tongue is flooding me with so much pleasure. He growls into me, and the vibration and the fiery hunger in his eyes when they scan mine tip me over.
Writhing, I stifle a scream as the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever had crashes through me. It goes on and on, and he doesn’t let up until I’m trembling with oversensitivity, and left feeling dazed and limp.
Holy hell!
Dominic smirks from between my legs with wolfish satisfaction. “Good, I take it?”
I nod slowly, still hazy. Good doesn’t even begin to cover it. I’ve just had my mind blown—by my boss. Oh God.
But I’m not going to question whether this is right or wrong. Not anymore, or at least, not tonight. Right now, I’m just eager to return the favor. The endorphins rushing through my bloodstream have commanded my brain to pipe down, and my body is the one doing the thinking.
The moment he gets back on the bed to kiss me, I’m fumbling for his shirt buttons with shaky fingers. He lets out a pleased hum as I unbuckle his belt. Together, we struggle to strip him and toss his clothes over the side of the bed without breaking our kiss.
With my eyes and hands, I devour each new inch of his exposed skin. His naked body is perfect, every angle and muscle sculpted by a classical artist. And when he slips off his boxers and his hard length springs free, my body gives an involuntary clench.
“You are unfairly hot,” I mumble.
He laughs. “Glad you appreciate the view.”
It’s an amazing one. But after so many days of being forced to content myself with just looking, I’m not waiting another second to taste. I scoot down his body to straddle his lower legs and bring my face close to his cock. Long, thick, flushed, and dripping . . . all because of me. I did this to him.
And now I get to do a lot more. I lick my lips.
He blinks. “You don’t have to.”
“I know, but I want to.” So damn bad. I’ve been repressing fantasies about it since my first day at Aspen.
He strokes my hair. “Are you sure? Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable wi—”
I shut him up by closing my mouth around him, and I relish how his breath hitches and his hand stills in my hair.
“Shit. If you’re sure.” He releases a sharp exhale, then a husky noise. He rests one hand on my head and the other on my shoulder. “Go on, baby.”
The sweet name is unexpected, and out of place, but I like it much more than I thought I would. Because it came from Dominic, the always in control, always so disciplined man who’s walls are tumbling down just for me.
I hesitate, because now I actually have to figure out what I’m doing. Experimentally, I lick a line from base to tip. Wow, the skin is so soft. I taste the salt of his sweat and a hint of musk—definitely not unpleasant, especially with the quiet sigh that escapes him.
Holding him firmly by the base, I slide my lips toward my hand. My gag reflex asserts itself long before I hit bottom. Okay, not what I wanted, but I can work with this. Treat it like a popsicle, I guess. I lick and suck my way back up, then down again, and his soft groan of pleasure electrifies me. Encouraged, I continue.
“A little more—fuck, just like that. You’re doing amazing.” He groans, caressing from my shoulder, up my neck, and over my cheek. “God, look at you. Those pretty lips wrapped around me . . . You’re so sexy, it should be illegal.”
In appreciation of the compliment, I take a little more of him. His fingers knot in my hair, half directing me, half just holding on.
Letting his touch and his sensual noises guide me, I bob my head faster and swirl my tongue as I grow more confident in my technique. I see why people enjoy this—it’s so hot to hear him unravel bit by bit, so heady to learn I can make such a powerful man gasp my name, bring him so much pleasure that his muscular stomach and thighs begin to quiver.
His grip tightens spasmodically, sending pain-pleasure sparks from my scalp all the way down my spine. “Presley . . . I’m about to . . .”
I don’t stop. I want everything he can give me.
When I suck harder, he groans loud and rough, his thick, hot release pulsing over my tongue
. I swallow, shocked at how intensely bitter it tastes, but still craving every drop.
“Damn . . .” He breathes out the word, and a swell of pride fills my chest.
The hand buried in my hair relaxes, caressing instead of clenching. I let my head drop into his warm lap and luxuriate in the way he’s softly stroking the long locks of my hair.
Then he adds, “That was pretty good. For an intern.”
I grab a pillow and toss it at his face. The cocky jerk just laughs. But it’s okay, because I’m giggling, too.
“I think it’s time for bed. Or do you not take suggestions from interns?” I say, returning the jab with my eyebrows raised in mock rebuke.
We’re still naked and this should feel strange, but his playful remark seems to have relaxed the charged atmosphere around us. Who knows, maybe that’s why he said it? He seems to know his way around most social situations. Even the awkward moment after you’ve just had spontaneous oral sex with an employee, I mean, intern.
Oh God, I wonder if he’s been in this situation before?
I won’t let myself spiral with worry right now. Endorphins are still pulsing through my system, and I’m determined not to worry. At least, not yet. I’m sure there will be time for regrets and examination of my behavior come morning.
Dominic gazes down at me fondly, touching my cheek one last time as he holds my gaze. I see the hint of a smile on his lips, and then he swings his legs over the side of the bed and tugs on his black boxer briefs. “I think I agree. Roger the others were about to call it a night too.”
We dig our toiletries out of our suitcases. With two sinks, the bathroom is roomy enough for us to stand side by side while we brush our teeth. Normally, I’d be a little self-conscious, but it feels natural. Comfortable. Almost . . . domestic. I push away the dangerous thought.
After changing into pajamas, I slip beneath the covers, wiggling a little to enjoy their soft, silky slide. Everything feels so good—I’m still languid and sensitive from earlier. Though I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that our guest bed comes equipped with linens worthy of a five-star hotel.