by Kendall Ryan
Dominic’s eyes spark with desire. He nods at a waiter and says, “Check, please.”
• • •
He leads me quickly and quietly into his luxurious apartment and through the darkened halls, straight to his bedroom. “Wait here,” he whispers with a soft kiss pressed against my lips.
I hear voices and assume he’s letting Francine go for the evening. I set my bag down and take a deep breath.
Moments later, Dominic is back, and there’s a hungry, almost predatory look in his eyes. He closes the door and locks it before he turns on a small bedside lamp, giving the room a soft, romantic glow. Then without warning, he yanks me flush against him, his hungry mouth finding mine. His kiss is exactly as I thought it’d be, consuming and urgent and a little desperate. It mimics my exact emotions in this moment. His bulge presses into my hip like a steel bar, and my body aches in response.
We fall into bed, devouring each other’s mouths. Our hands are everywhere—clutching, caressing, tearing at clothes. I can’t get his pants off fast enough. My dress falls to the floor, leaving me bare.
With a husky growl of pleasure, he guides me to lie back on the bed so I’m displayed before him, ready for the taking. Suddenly, I realize that holy shit, this is actually happening. Dominic Aspen, my boss, the man who’s been driving me crazy for what feels like forever, is lying naked on top of me.
He’s going to fuck me. I’m about to lose my virginity.
Horny excitement flares in my stomach, and nervousness jitters along with it. My brain gropes for something clever to say but comes up empty.
I blurt, “H-hey there, big guy . . . that’s quite an erection,” and instantly regret it. What the heck is wrong with me?
But he doesn’t laugh at me or stare like I have two heads. He just purrs, “It’s all for you. Like it?”
I giggle, feeling a little less tense. “Way too much.” Enough that I lose my mind and start talking nonsense, evidently. “Who knew?”
His lips brush my ear, and his hot chuckle sends goose bumps down my neck. “Me.”
“Come on, you couldn’t have known all along.” Or was I really that obvious about it? Did I spend every day at work with a neon sign FUCK ME, DOMINIC blinking on my forehead?
“I took a highly educated guess.”
Smug bastard. Then something else about work occurs to me. “Uh, I should’ve brought this up before, but what’s the company policy on fraternization?”
He blinks down at me, then bursts out laughing. “We’re naked in bed together, and you want to discuss that now?”
I laugh, too, at the ridiculous picture I must make and my own straitlaced habits. “I know, I know . . .”
“Don’t worry about it. I might be your lover here, but at the office, I’m your boss. I can compartmentalize.” He kisses me. “I value you for your work, and nothing that happens here will affect that.”
Then he’s sucking and licking my nipple, his fingers lightly touching between my legs, and I can’t think anymore, I can only whine and squirm for him. But I can’t make him go faster—he just keeps teasing me at his own pace. Every time I lift my hips into his touch, he merely watches me in curious fascination.
I let out an impatient huff. “H-how long are . . . you gonna keep . . .”
With an infuriating amount of calm, he replies, “I have to make sure you’re ready.”
I gasp. “I am. So ready.”
He grins down at me. “Hmm. That’s for me to decide.”
One thick finger slides into me, making me moan with pleasure. Then his thumb runs over my slick, swollen flesh, and I can’t help rocking my hips against his hand. The motion is slow and teasing.
As he keeps stroking, he eases another finger inside. “Still okay?”
With this one, I can feel myself stretch, but there’s no pain, only the hunger for more. “Yes, yes, just please—”
“Be patient, baby.”
A third finger enters me. Now it’s really a tight fit; there’s a tiny zing of pain along with the satisfying fullness. Even so, I rock into his fingers, eager to get to the main event.
The fingers slide out, and I stifle a disappointed noise.
He grabs a condom from his nightstand and rolls it onto his straining shaft. Then he ever so carefully fills me, his cock wonderfully bigger and hotter than his fingers as he slowly pushes inside.
A moan of relief escapes me, and I lift my hips up to meet him. It hurts a little, but so much stronger is the pleasure of finally, finally having Dominic inside me. It’s different than I imagined it would be. Better in every way possible.
Dominic gazes down at me with heavy-lidded eyes that are filled with his desire for me, and he makes a low sound that rumbles in his chest. He wraps my legs around his lower back and leans forward to kiss me, pushing himself even deeper, wringing a mewl from my throat.
I’ve never felt so blissfully full. And the pleasure intensifies a thousandfold when he withdraws slightly, then pushes back in. He sets a steady rhythm, each thrust stealing my breath.
“Y-you can go harder.” My voice comes out sounding strange, both dazed and hungry.
“I know I can.” His voice is a rough, hot rush in my ear. “If you want something, you have to ask for it, intern.”
Never one to back down, I tighten my calves around him. “Fuck me harder, then. Show me how you like it.”
With an exhale, he pumps his hips faster and I cry out, clawing at his shoulders, my legs struggling to clamp him closer.
Holy shit, this is sex? This series of mind-blowing explosions radiating from my core is what I’ve been missing out on for all these years? It’s better than I could have ever imagined. It’s hot and intense, and wet, and my brain scrambles in sixteen different directions.
“You feel incredible,” Dominic whispers, his voice coming out deeper. His possessive, burning gaze as he moves above me is almost as overwhelming as the sensation. “It’s so good to finally bury my cock inside you. I can’t lie—I’ve wanted you this whole time.”
“Me . . . too . . .”
Suddenly, I realize I’m going to come. I open my mouth to tell him, to say something, because don’t people do that? But it’s too late. I’m already whimpering and quaking, my body clenching around him in wave after wave of pulsing ecstasy.
When I open my eyes, still trying to catch my breath, he’s staring down at me like he’s very pleased about something.
“That was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.” His teeth touch his lower lip. “Fuck, I want you so bad.”
“Then take me,” I say, panting.
He kisses me hard, groaning into my mouth, and oh God, I can feel his length throbbing inside me as he follows me over the edge.
For a minute, we just lie there in a tangled, damp heap. I don’t know about him, but I’m exhausted and still drunk on sex.
Brushing a gentle kiss over my lips, he murmurs, “We should probably get cleaned up.”
I don’t want to leave this afterglow, but I’m sure he’s right. After a quick visit to the bathroom, I’m back in his arms, curled up with my head on his chest, sated and so very happy.
It hits me then that I’m not a virgin anymore, but I don’t feel the least bit conflicted about it. No uncertainty, no confusion, no need or even urge to consult the cards. For once, my inner self rings through with crystal clarity. This feels right. Here in Dominic’s bed is exactly where I want to be.
We lie together in comfortable silence for a little while before Dominic finally lifts his head off the pillow to glance at the clock.
“I’m going to go check on the girls. You need anything?”
I yawn once and press my nose into his neck, enjoying the feel of his stubble against my cheek. “A glass of water, please.”
“Of course.” He presses a soft kiss to my temple. “Coming right up.”
I watch as my sexy-as-sin and just as complicated boss rises to his feet and tugs on a pair of sweatpants. Of course his sweatpant
s appear to be made of cashmere, which makes me smile. As if I could forget for one single second how sophisticated and wealthy he is.
He gazes down on me fondly once more before strolling from the room to check on his sleeping daughters.
Chapter Nineteen
Dominic
The smooth curve of Presley’s back rises and falls with her soft breathing. I’m not quite sure when she fell asleep because I was too busy watching the way the moonlight reflected off her creamy skin, reveling in the pleasurable calm thrumming through me.
What’s going to happen, Dom? Are you really going to let her stay the night?
That can’t happen. I don’t want to have to explain her presence to Fran in the morning, or deal with the possibility of waking up one of the girls while sneaking Presley out. Trying to put a toddler back to sleep at this time of night isn’t my idea of postcoital fun.
Presley shifts under my sheet, her thick hair splayed across my pillows. She nuzzles into the silken material. It occurs to me that she probably can’t afford the frivolous things I take for granted, like eight-hundred-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets.
I don’t want to wake her, I decide. Let her sleep for a little while more.
I roll out of bed and slip on the same pair of cashmere pants from earlier. As I tighten the drawstring, I imagine Presley pulling it loose later. The way her eyes look when she . . .
Get it together, man.
I make myself comfortable in the chair adjacent to the bed. I open my laptop, the soft glow of the screen the only light, except for the moon.
Presley’s messenger bag lies beside my chair, near my feet. Her laptop is in that bag, the sign of an employee who’s willing to drop everything at a moment’s notice to get the work done.
She’s so damn dedicated, with a work ethic that rivals my own. And it looks like she has plenty of work to do. There’s a folder poking out of her bag, likely jostled loose in our eagerness to get to the fucking part of the evening.
I stare at it, wondering. I haven’t given her an assignment lately. On one edge of the folder is scrawled a name.
Genesis . . . the software company that tried to ruin me.
I reach over, pick up the folder, and open it. My stomach twists at what I see.
“What are you doing?” Presley sits up in bed, the sheets pooling around her waist, her breasts naked in the dim light of the room. Her eyes are heavy with sleep and her cheeks rosy with warmth.
Meanwhile, I feel like I just swallowed a piece of coal. “What is this?”
Presley squints at the folder as if she’s trying to remember. Recognition flits over her features, then fear. “That’s not what you think.”
“What do I think?”
“It’s not my folder.”
“Then why do you have it?”
She sits up straighter, her eyes alert now. “A guy gave it to me.”
“A guy.” My heart rate is thrumming fast now, and anger boils through my veins.
“Someone I met,” she says. “I’ve only seen him like, three times.”
“Are you fucking him, too?” Presley finches at my words, but the adrenaline surging through my veins is too much to ignore. “Is this what you do? Sleep with whomever you think will help with your career?” I keep my tone calm and cold, and she watches me with huge, worried eyes.
I’ve been in this position before. Usually, though, I don’t catch the lie while the bed’s still warm. But Presley is young, and obviously sloppy at the ploy. Many women have wanted to bed me for different reasons, although money is usually at the top of that list.
Corporate sabotage is new. And from Presley, of all people? Fuck.
My heart jerks painfully inside my chest. I let her into my world. Hell, I didn’t just let her in, I was the one who invited her, who insisted. She’s met my daughters. Fallen asleep in my bed.
Nausea surges up my throat. All the cyber security bullshit we dealt with last year aged me a decade and cost me millions. I can’t go through that again.
“I wasn’t going to help him.” She leans forward in the bed, grasping the sheets in front of her.
That face could be earnest and honest—or it could be a mask. Presley has surprised me more than once with her ability to adapt her personality, depending on who she’s with. Why did I think it would be different with me?
“Please, Dom. You have to believe me.”
I want to.
I really do.
I pick up my pants from the floor and retrieve my wallet. My chest tight, I pull out its entire contents—likely around twelve hundred dollars. Holding the bills between two fingers, I offer the cash to Presley, inches from her face.
“Here.”
“What’s this?”
“For tonight’s fuck.” My tone is cold, completely lacking any empathy.
Confusion and then hurt flash through those crystal-blue eyes as I toss the pile of money onto the bed. “Dom—Dom.” Presley jumps to her feet, tearing her clothes over her limbs in a scramble to get dressed.
I turn toward the door so I don’t have to see the pain in her eyes. “It’s just like you’ve heard, right? The rumors about me . . . that I can’t get off unless money changes hands. There you go. Take your money.”
“Dom, please. I’m not lying. I never meant to hurt you. Dominic, please—you have to believe me!”
She’s still trying to explain herself when I open the door to the hallway.
“You have to listen to me!”
I turn and look her straight in the eye, my tone calm, almost calculatingly so. “You’ll wake up the girls.”
Presley’s eyes well with tears, and she nods—a tight, business-like nod. This conversation is over. This meeting is adjourned. She turns back into the room, quietly picks up her things, including the cash, I note, and follows me out.
We don’t make a sound, our feet silent on the hardwood floors. When we cross into the hall leading to the front door, Presley takes my hand, forcing me to look at her. Her eyes are wild with emotion, but her jaw is set.
“You have to believe me.”
“I don’t have to do anything. But I recommend that you get off my property before I call the police and have you removed.”
“Dom . . .” Her eyes are bright, alert, and locked on mine.
My heart clenches painfully again. “I’ve paid you for your time. Now go.”
The front door clicks behind Presley, and suddenly I’m alone.
Which is exactly the way it should be.
Chapter Twenty
Presley
I spend the rest of the evening tossing and turning on Bianca’s couch, searing pain throbbing through my chest whenever I picture the betrayal that was slashed across Dominic’s chiseled features.
I just don’t understand how everything fell apart so fast. A few hours ago, I was on a date with Dominic—a real date. I lost my virginity. I was falling hard and fast for the most difficult, most handsome, most brilliant man I’d ever met, and now . . . Now I’ve not only been dumped, I don’t even know if I still have a job to go to on Monday.
The pain in my chest throbs again. My future was looking so promising, and then it all went up in smoke. I choke back another sob. What the hell am I going to do?
Besides, there’s the not-so-little fact that I still need money, regardless of what happens with my internship. My chest is so tight, I feel like it could shatter into a million pieces at any moment.
I’m just thankful Bianca’s not home to witness my pity party. She’s out on a date and told me not to expect her tonight, which is for the best. I don’t think she’d be too supportive knowing I slept with my boss, and she’d probably want to hunt Austin down and strangle him for what he did. Although, right now, that’s an idea I could get behind.
I can’t believe I trusted Austin—I thought he was actually into me. I thought he wanted to get to know me as a person, and the entire time he was using me for my connection to Dominic. I’m not normally so gu
llible. I feel like a complete and total failure. On every level.
I take a deep, shuddering breath and decide the only thing that’s going to make me feel any better is talking to my brother. I dial his number, and he picks up on the first ring.
“Hey, sis.” His voice comes out strained, in a hurried whisper.
“Hi. Is . . . this a bad time?”
“I’m just at a party with some people from class. Everything okay?”
“Of course,” I lie. “Just wanted to talk to you, but it’s no problem.” My throat is tight and I can hardly get the words out.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says over the rush of voices in the background. “The payment for my second term is due in ten days. Wanted to make sure you knew.”
My stomach drops. “I’ll have the money.”
“’Kay. Gotta go. Love you.”
With that, Michael ends the call, and I’m left alone once again, feeling even worse than before, if that’s even possible.
The only silver lining to all of this is that it’s the weekend, and I have the next two days to figure out my next move. The thought of not heading into Aspen on Monday morning makes me physically ill. It’s just not like me to jeopardize my entire career for a fling with a brooding, older man. I have no idea what got into me.
Actually, I do. Dominic Aspen is a very hard man to ignore. The things he made me feel . . . the way he lit up my entire body, challenged me, mentored me . . . He never treated me like an intern, and I guess that was the thing I liked best.
Then again, maybe he was only doing what he did best—winning me over simply because it served his purposes. Paying me for my time because he knew I wouldn’t refuse. Just like he paid for all his other dates.
And with that, an idea pops into my head.
Dominic once mentioned the escort agency he uses for dates. What was its name—Ambrosia? No, it was called Allure. He made escorting sound pretty safe and lucrative. And I already have a little experience with being paid for my companionship . . . so there’s that.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I open my laptop to research Allure. Their website is professional and very tasteful—no nudity, although there are pictures galore of staggeringly gorgeous, lingerie-clad women in come-hither poses. It eases my paranoia only slightly. But if Allure was breaking the law, they wouldn’t be able to have such an easy-to-find website without the police descending on them, right?