by Max Monroe
He tosses me down onto his bed with a sexy ease that makes my stomach spasm.
He steps forward and puts a purposeful hand to the back of my dress.
My breath catches in my throat, and out of desperation, I start to pant. My mind feels foggy but euphoric, and the zipper of my dress isn’t even halfway down yet.
“Trent,” I gasp, grabbing at his hair as he kisses his way across my breasts, drags the velvet fabric down with his teeth, and closes his mouth tightly over my nipple.
I arch my back and bicycle my feet on the floor, trying to find some kind of metaphorical stability for my spinning head.
I’d say I don’t know how we got here, panting and moaning and half naked on the bed, but I do.
I know so hard.
You can’t have this much attraction, this much sexual tension, between two people without a fucking explosion.
And that’s what this is right now. The fucking explosion.
I may be a strong, independent, goal-oriented woman who doesn’t need a man, but I need this one.
I need him bad.
My feet give up the fight to find the floor and defer to my legs as they clamp around his hips and pull him closer.
His weight feels delicious and decadent on top of me, and his lips are exploring me so thoroughly, it feels like they’re all over, all at once.
“Trent,” I moan, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer.
He fights it, though, pulling the straps of my dress off my shoulders and sliding it down my body first.
When he comes back, bare chest against my chest, I nearly pass out from the warmth of it.
“Trent,” I call, but he ignores me, kissing my neck with suction just light enough that it won’t leave a mark.
I pant his name again, wanting his lips, wanting his eyes, wanting him inside me so bad it hurts. But he continues to ignore me, and you could say that was the moment that broke the vagina’s patience.
I grab his hair and pull, and he groans, but when I’m done, his eyes are on mine and his attention is avid.
“Stop fucking around and slide your dick inside of me.”
His laugh is raucous as he shakes his head, so I bump him to get his attention again, adding a little slap to his ass for good measure.
“I’m serious.”
“And I’m serious about taking my time,” he challenges.
“Bone me right now,” I order. “Take out your hammer and start nailing some wood.”
“Greer—”
“Do it! Put your P in my V and—”
“Lie back,” he cuts me off to order. And suddenly, Date Trent and Boss Trent have formed some sort of super Dom sex mix, and I’m powerless. I am at his command, a willing and able submissive. “I’m going to eat your pussy first, and I’m going to enjoy it. Don’t even bother trying to talk me out of it.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, and he smirks.
“Is this what it takes to get you to follow orders?”
“Ordering me to accept your sexual pleasure?” I say with a laugh. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
“I’ll have to remember that at the office.”
“We don’t have an office,” I scoff.
“We should get one.”
“Less talk, more action, sir.”
He winks, pulls my panties down my legs, and gets right to work.
And holy hell, is he a dedicated worker.
Tongue swirls, sucking kisses, touches, and tickles—he uses it all to work me into a frenzy so hard I’m screaming. I come with his mouth and I come with his cock, and when we’re done, I know without a doubt, it’s the most noise his apartment has ever created.
Trent
I wake up at exactly six a.m. But not for the reason of work or responsibilities.
I wake up because of Greer.
She is here, in my apartment, in my bed, gloriously naked and sleeping peacefully beside me.
Her eyes are closed, her long lashes fan out across her cheeks, and her lips showcase the hint of a smile. And soft, even breaths encourage her breasts to move up and down gently.
Fuck, she’s a glorious sight.
The best thing I’ve seen in…forever. And the thought of popping this heavenly bubble and heading into a day filled with work sounds horrible.
Quietly, I slide out of bed, toss on a pair of boxer briefs, and head into the kitchen to make some coffee.
Normally, this is the part of the day where I go through emails on my phone and sift through what needs to get accomplished for the day. I obsess over what’s been done at the hotel and what still needs to be done and how much time is left to accomplish it all.
But while the coffee brews, I’m lost in thoughts about the sleeping angel in my bed.
I think about her loud, addictive laugh. Her witty sarcasm. The way her beautiful blue eyes look when she’s consumed with pleasure. I even think about the fact that she talked about a fucking hit man with the mayor.
Goddamn, she’s something.
Once a fresh cup of coffee is in my hands, I come to a conclusion—I’m not popping this bubble today.
It might be a weekday and both Greer and I are due into work.
But I’m the fucking boss, and I’ve decided we’re going to act like it’s a goddamn Saturday.
We’re going to stay in my apartment. In my bed. All fucking day. And I’m going to spend hours upon hours savoring the way she feels and tastes and moans.
Yeah. That’s exactly what we’re going to do today.
Without hesitation, I grab my phone off the kitchen counter and update the team via text.
Me: Greer Hudson and I will be working off-site today. Call me if any issues arrive.
The instant I hit send, I feel…relief.
And then, I remember that Greer is in my bed. Beautiful and bare.
It doesn’t take long before I’m setting my coffee on the counter and heading back into my bedroom. I move onto the bed, pull the blankets off Greer’s body, and settle myself between her now-spread legs, and I just look at her.
Fuck, this is the most perfect pussy I’ve ever seen.
Willpower gone, I slide my tongue against her and place one long lick against that perfect pussy of hers.
She stirs a little but doesn’t wake, and I continue on with my important business.
My initial exploration of her with my mouth is lazy and slow and…savory.
But the mere taste of her on my tongue becomes too much to bear.
My cock hardens, and I lose myself. Tasting her. Eating and sucking at her. It’s like I’m a man starved and she is the only item on the menu that will satisfy me.
Goddamn, she tastes good.
She moans and her thighs start to shake, and it’s then that she wakes up.
“Holy shit,” she whimpers. “Oh my God.”
“Ignore me,” I whisper against her with a smile I can’t hide. “Just go back to sleep.”
“I…Oh God…I-I think sleep is pretty much impossible right now.”
She arches her back and her supple breasts push forward, and I enjoy the fucking view of her losing herself to pleasure.
And she does lose herself. Legs shaking, breaths panting, incomprehensible moans escaping her lungs. The climax rolls through her body, and her blue eyes do that amazing thing where they glaze over and shine brighter at the same time.
Fuck. I could spend the rest of my life making this woman feel good.
Once her breaths slow and her muscles relax, I slide up her body and press a soft kiss to her cheeks, her lips, her nose, her neck. Pretty much everywhere my lips can reach.
“Good morning, Greer.”
“Yeah.” She snorts. “Talk about some morning.”
I grin down at her. “We’re not going to work today.”
“Huh?”
“We’re working off-site. I’ve already updated the team.”
“Oh,” she responds, and her lips form a perfect little O. “Where do we have to go?”<
br />
“Nowhere.”
“Huh?” she asks and scrunches up her adorable nose.
“This is where we’re working today. Right here.” I waggle my brows. “In my bed.”
“I’m sorry…what?”
“We have a lot to accomplish here,” I whisper into her ear and reach down to slide my finger inside of her.
“We do?” she asks, and a little moan leaves her lips.
“We do.”
I slip my finger out of her, and she whimpers her annoyance. But that annoyance turns to hip-gyrating arousal when I rub the tip of my cock against her clit.
“Fuck,” she moans and wraps her thighs around my hips. “I hope you sliding inside me is one of the things on today’s list.”
“Oh, don’t worry, honey,” I say with a little smirk and just barely push the tip of my shaft inside her. “That’s at the very top of our list.”
The feel of her pussy as it touches my bare cock is almost more than I can handle.
Thank Jesus and all of his disciples for Greer’s perfect pussy and the fact that she’s on birth control.
“Well, thank fuck for that!” she cheers, and I use that moment to slide all the way home.
And Greer’s delicious moans follow me the entire way.
Yeah. Today is going to be a fan-fucking-tastic day.
Greer
My head pounds. Not, I should note, from an actual hangover involving too much alcohol, but simply from being in my thirties and staying awake past midnight.
I swear, the body switches off all cooperative function when you enter your third decade, and three years in, my suffering is only magnified.
I cover my eyes to block out all the sunlight and reach to the side of my bed to switch off my alarm.
Only, for some reason, I don’t feel my nightstand at all, but the hard yet supple flesh of a warm, naked body.
What am I doing on the wrong side of the bed?
And why does the empty spot on my bed feel like a human?
I peek one eye open, squinting through the crack of my fingers to find a navy-blue wall and gray drapes. It’s masculine and decorated and looks nothing like the plain white box I’m still living in.
Ironic, I suppose, since I’m an interior designer, but I’ve been really fucking busy.
Finally, after a minute of start-up time, my brain starts to run at full function, and I immediately remember where I am.
In fact, now that I do, I can’t even believe there was a scant moment I didn’t.
Trent Turner—the billionaire boss next door—and I…had sex last night.
And all day yesterday.
And even the night before that.
Basically, for the past twenty-four hours, we’ve been exploring each other until we can’t keep our fucking eyes open.
Wild, loud, sometimes dirty sex that I can still feel between my legs.
The craziest part of it, though, is that it didn’t feel crazy.
It felt right and easy, and simply…amazing.
His bedroom has been our home, and the painting Ben made of me in Jackson Square leans against the wall on top of his nightstand.
When I finally noticed it during a break from our sex yesterday, I took the opportunity to tease Trent about the fact that he does have a shrine to me.
I turn to face him, studying the lines of his face. He’s still asleep, and all the hard edges have rounded off into softness.
He looks tender and peaceful, and without the hypnotizing spell of his open green eyes, I can almost convince myself I stand some sort of chance against him.
But only almost.
I reach out slowly, carefully, and run the knuckles of my right hand over the tiny stubble that’s formed on his cheek overnight.
His hair is a mess, but I don’t think he’s ever looked more perfect.
Between one blink and the next, he opens his eyes and smiles.
“Good morning,” he says softly. Evidently, it doesn’t take his brain any time at all to boot up.
“Good morning,” I say with a smile. “I guess we’re going to have to actually go in to work today, huh?”
“You trying to get your boss to let you play hooky again?” He smirks like the devil, and I snort.
“God, I wish, but I have too many things to get done today.”
“You want to hear the silver lining?”
I nod.
“You have another meeting with your boss tonight.”
“I do?”
“Uh-huh,” he leans forward and presses a soft, too-short kiss to my lips. “Tonight. Eight p.m. Right here.” He reaches forward and places his big hands on my breasts. “And you are not allowed to cover these up.”
“So, just business casual, then?” My responding giggles turn to a moan when he leans forward to suck one nipple into his mouth and flick his tongue against it.
“Clothes aren’t optional, Greer,” he retorts in his bossy voice and moves his greedy mouth to my other breast, kissing and sucking and swirling his tongue and me into a frenzy.
I’m two seconds away from climbing on top of his body and riding him until we’re late for work, but a pounding coming from the front door stops me before I can even get started.
It’s loud and demanding and, in a way, confusing.
Because I swear, I’ve heard it before. From him.
“How are you in two places at once? Did you clone yourself?”
“Huh?” he asks, too busy jumping up from the bed and putting on pants to follow my logic.
“The door. That’s exactly what you sound like when you pound on mine.”
He shakes his head with a smile and tosses one of his shirts at me from the closet. I catch it, but I don’t make a move to do anything else.
“Are you coming?” he asks, and I laugh.
Oh boy, he’s funny.
“Uh, no. I think I’ll hide out here until I find out who it is.”
“Chicken,” he taunts, and I shrug.
“You bet your ass. Now, get out there and answer the door. If I’ve disappeared when you come back, check the roof.”
He charges forward and gives me a quick kiss and a tight hug as the pounding gets even louder.
Whoever’s on the other side of his door doesn’t like fucking around with waiting.
“No roof. Stay put. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, no roof,” I agree as he jogs out the door. “But I’m not making any promises about the closet!”
I fall back on the bed and pull his shirt to my nose to take a whiff. It smells like fresh laundry and him, and a stupid, sappy smile curls the corners of my mouth.
I like him.
All-consuming, thought-hijacking, stalker-making kind of like, and as much as it scares me, it excites me even more.
I’d all but shut down the possibility of finding someone this compatible, someone to love me.
But it seems like, maybe, I’m not out of the game yet.
My ears perk up as Trent’s voice carries into the bedroom from the front door. It’s loud and surprised and devoid of the lazy ease of just a few seconds ago.
In fact, it sounds like the Trent I met months ago.
I lean forward, wrapping the shirt around my body just in case and listen even harder.
“Dad, what are you doing here?”
Dad? Dad? Motherfucking Dad?!
As in, the boss to end all bosses who makes my billionaire boss look like a little baby boss?
Oh shit.
I jump like I’ve been electrocuted and make it from the bed to the closet in one bounding leap. I close myself in quickly and take big, gulping breaths. Unfortunately, that makes me feel like I’m going to hyperventilate.
Small, normal breaths, dummy, my brain coaches.
Of course, from my new hiding spot, I can no longer hear what they’re saying, but I don’t care. I’d much rather huddle in the dark, silent safety of the closet than hang around—almost naked—in his bedroom just waiting for his dad
to walk in and find me.
Trent finds me fifteen minutes later, apology and disquiet both stark in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I had no idea he was coming, but I told him I’d meet him at the hotel in twenty minutes. If I’m not there…”
“I know,” I say with a wave of my hand, eager to make him feel at least a little better. The last thing I want is to be another worry on his giant list. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll get ready and then swing by the office to pick up the new samples and sketches I got in before I meet you there.”
He smashes his lips to mine gratefully and pulls away way too soon. “Thank you.”
“You got it,” I say teasingly. “You’ve got to be flexible when you’re banging the boss.”
His eyes light up, and he winks. “Tonight. We’ll see just how flexible you really are.”
The tectonic plates between my legs shift until I’m squeezing them together to fight against a full-on earthquake.
Trent smirks and grabs a suit from behind me before heading straight for the shower.
I head for home.
I’ve got a lot to do.
One Trent to support; one to impress.
There’s more at stake than a job now.
Now…it’s a job and my heart.
When we break for lunch, I’m on top of the world. Both Trents have been smiling at me all morning as I go over all of the proposed designs and elements unique to this space.
Tony, Marcus, Sarah, George, and I, we’re a well-oiled machine thanks to Junior’s new and improved leadership skills, and I can’t imagine the presentation we threw together for Senior going any better.
It is dazzling and innovative, and it makes me excited to spend the next six months making it all come to life before the opening.
I’m packing up my briefcase to head to lunch at Coastal Crepes—the secret location Trent texted me to meet him fifteen minutes ago—when I remember that I left one of my sketches down in the lobby where we stopped last with Senior.
It’s in the direction of the exit and I don’t want to forget it, so I decide to stop and get it on my way out of the building.
Down six flights from the lounge area and through the winding halls that confused me so much on the first day, I’m a few steps from the lobby when I hear Trent Senior’s voice.