by Amelia Wilde
At first, when I step off the elevator at Basement Level 1, I think it’s empty. The silence is heavy, broken only by the whir of the stacks of servers positioned against one wall. There isn’t a single light turned on in any of the offices along the other wall, and I let out a little sigh, ready to turn around and head back up to my floor.
I’m about to turn for the elevator when there’s movement at one of the doors. A figure appears out of the dark, and I stifle a gasp.
“Oh, my God,” the man says, a shadow falling over his face. “I’m—I’m sorry. Can I help you?”
My heart is pounding in my chest. Why the hell is he down here with no lights on? His hands are full of the kinds of blue folders we use up on the executive level.
“I’m Vivienne Davis,” I say, trying to steady myself on the sound of my own voice. “My—my computer is having some kind of problem, and I was wondering if you could check it out from here…”
I want to look over his shoulder while he signs in, but this guy is going to be a miss—I can already tell. He shifts the folders in his hands. “I can come up in a few minutes and look. That’s—that’s usually the first step,” he says. I can’t quite see his eyes, and it’s unsettling as hell to me.
“Okay. Thanks. I’m working for Mr. Overhiser.” I finish it off with a little laugh, like this whole thing is a little absurd, but the sound falls into more silence.
“I’ll be there.”
I turn on my heel and go.
24
Dominic
My own game is working against me, because by Monday morning, I’m bursting out of my skin. The only thing that managed to slake my thirst for her was the fact that we texted each other constantly all weekend.
Everything grates on my nerves all day. Every meeting drags on into eternity. Every point that my executives pause to discuss makes me want to pound my fist on the table and tell them to stop wasting my time.
By four, I’m done.
Something has to give, and I sink into the chair behind my desk and rub at my temples. Something has to give, because I can’t maintain this level of obsession with both Wilder Enterprises and Vivienne.
But there’s a fine line to walk. I can’t let my attention waver. That’s what my father did, and that’s what got him a dead wife and ruined his reputation in New York City and, for all I know, the rest of the world. I don’t want that.
I also don’t want to lose my tenuous grasp on Vivienne.
Maybe it’s not so tenuous, though. Maybe what we have is the first real thing I’ve had in my life in years.
I want to see her. I want to be with her, and I don’t want to play any more games. I’ve stretched the tension to a breaking point, and my nerves are beginning to fray. The text messages aren’t enough. I need to be with her, somewhere private, somewhere alone.
My penthouse seems like the perfect place. The only place I can realistically think of going without fueling up my private jet, which strikes me as a hassle, one on top of another.
“Emily!” I stand up from behind my desk at the exact moment she appears in the doorway. “I’m done for the day.”
Her eyes widen, but only for a split second. “I’ll cancel the last meeting of the day.”
“Move it to Wednesday.”
“Wednesday?”
It’s like she wants to confirm that I don’t actually mean Tuesday. It wasn’t that long ago when I planned an extensive vacation and cancelled it three days in. She’s probably wondering if I’m going off the rails right now instead, if she should have tried to gently insist that I stay away for at least a week. But Emily would never do that.
“Wednesday. And push everything else for tomorrow to later in the week.”
She gives a little nod and turns away, the sound of fingers tapping her keyboard floating through the door a moment later.
There’s not much to bring with me—I don’t have an overcoat in the middle of the summer—so it’s a matter of taking my phone out of my pocket, texting my driver, and walking out.
In the elevator I send another message, this one to Vivienne.
You can tell me if your boss is gone for the day.
It’s flirty enough to disguise the fact that I’m over this day, I’m over Wilder Enterprises, I’m over everything but her. Her reply comes in a few moments later, before I’ve reached the lobby.
How’d you know? :)
That old bastard thinks I don’t know that he never stays past four unless I’ve called a meeting. Come meet me.
I don’t know. He did ask me to stay until five.
He asked you to stay until five so you could cover his ass if I called the office.
Really??
That last one makes me laugh.
Come meet me. One block down, in front of the coffee shop with the stupid logo.
You mean…the one with the hot pink mug?
That’s the one.
Her next message is a thumbs-up emoji.
I slide into the back seat of the Town Car, which seems to have been ready and waiting for me already—there’s not a hint of the sticky July heat in the interior. I tell Craig, the driver, where to go, and he pulls out into traffic without making his usual small talk. The look on my face must be enough to tell him that I’m not in the mood for conversation.
Ten minutes later, Vivienne pulls open the back door to the Town Car, her light, flowery scent wafting in on the breeze, and slides in next to me. She pulls the door closed behind her, gives a little nod to the driver, and slips her hand into mine.
“I missed you over the weekend.”
I give her a grin. “How could you have missed me? We were on the phone the entire time.” It’s a coy thing to say, and it reminds me of being in college, of the endless flirtation that would go on with some women before they’d go to bed with you, how the cute quickly became cloying. With Vivienne, I don’t think it ever will.
“We were.” She looks me in the eyes, and then decides something based on what she sees there. It only takes her a moment to scoot closer and lay her head on my shoulder. “Purple?” Her voice is soft, and I can’t see her face, but I hear the smile in her voice.
I squeeze her shoulders, then slide my arm down around her waist. “I’m done waiting,” I murmur into her hair. “I’m done playing games.”
She tenses under my arm, then relaxes again. “Thank God. Even that vibrator hasn’t been able to keep up with me the last few days.”
I close my eyes and breathe her in, relishing the thought of her spread open and teasing herself, face pink with exertion and desire, almost hearing the little sounds she’d have been making while she got herself off over and over again.
Next to me, she sucks in a little breath. “Dominic, wait a little longer.” Her hand brushes over the bulge in my pants, and I cover my mouth with my hand, then lower my fingers to her lips.
“Not much longer.”
“No?”
“Absolutely not.” I shift in the seat, trying to get comfortable, and resign myself to the fact that I’m not going to be comfortable, not until Vivienne is riding my cock into a powerful orgasm. “I have a question for you.”
She pulls back a little, frowning at me, her green eyes going a little darker. “What is it?”
I lean in close. “It’s a very serious question, and I’m going to need you to think carefully before you answer.”
She blinks a couple of times, her breath speeding up. She reaches for my hand again and holds it tightly. “Dominic,” she says, her tone urgent. “What is it?”
I look her straight in the eye, keeping my face collected and serious. “Will you go home with me?”
Her mouth drops open, and then she laughs out loud. “You’re terrible.”
“You love it.”
“Maybe I do.” Then she leans in close, until her lips are brushing my earlobe—a page right out of my own playbook—and drops her voice so that I’m the only one who hears her next words. “But I’m only going home wit
h you if you promise to fuck me. Today. Not tomorrow, not another day, but today. I need it, Dominic. I need you.”
I take her face in my hands and pull her in close. Before I cover her mouth with mine, I give her the answer she wants. “Yes. It’s time. I swear.”
25
Vivienne
I can’t keep my hands or my mouth away from Dominic for the rest of the ride to wherever it is we’re going, which turns out to be an understated building on the Upper East Side. By the time the Town Car pulls up to the curb, my entire body is like one raw nerve, and we’ve long since stopped saying anything to one another. He gently lifts me upright from where I’ve been leaning against the door, his powerful torso covering mine, and reaches to help me straighten the skirt of the gray shift dress I wore to the office today before exiting the vehicle.
The driver comes around to open the door and helps me step out, and when I’ve gotten my footing on the curb, I can tell he’s trying not to smile. I give him a big grin. “Thank you…”
“Craig.” He sticks out his hand, and I shake it firmly.
“I’m Vivienne.”
He winks at me. “I know.”
Then Dominic’s hand is on the small of my back, steering me through the thick summer heat toward the lobby of his building.
Unlike Wilder Enterprises, there’s nothing ostentatious about the lobby, nothing to hint that a member of the country’s richest social class resides here. Dominic steps forward, leading me past a bank of two elevators and around the corner to a third, this one with a keypad next to the call button. He punches in a code, then turns to look down into my eyes, his gaze smoldering. My breath hitches.
“Even the elevator takes too long today.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” I intertwine my fingers with his and hold on tight, wanting to pull him down for another kiss but knowing that if I do, we might never make it up to his apartment. “You have a lot of private elevators.”
“Only two.” He shakes his head, then nods another time, remembering. “No. Three.”
“What more could a girl ask for?”
His eyes dance with his smile. “I’d say a lot more than elevators. Why don’t I show you?”
“Oh, please do.” Every word out of his mouth is so charged that even when we’re talking about building transportation technology, I get wet. Wetter, if I’m being honest about it, because my panties are already soaked from the ride here.
The doors glide open as the elevator arrives, and we both step in, Dominic jamming his finger on the button for the penthouse.
“Wow,” I say, squeezing his hand. “The penthouse!”
He says nothing, but as the doors glide closed, he wraps his hands around my waist and presses me up against the wall of the elevator, the surface cold through my dress, and I shiver with pleasure as he bends his head down to kiss my collarbone. His hands work at the buttons at the front of my dress, deftly undoing one, two, three buttons, and then he’s yanking down the dress and my bra, exposing one breast, then the other, to the cool air as the elevator rises.
I press the palms of my hands back against the wall of the elevator, and his mouth makes contact with my nipples, already hard and straining for him, a heated, swirling pleasure that’s arcing down my spine as he swirls his tongue over one pebbled nub, the pad of his thumb circling the other.
“Do you like that?” he says softly, and something about the question strikes me as so vulnerable, so open, that my heart bursts into a thousand pieces. The sheer need sweeping through my veins repairs itself in an instant.
“Yes. Please—” I raise one hand and curl my fingers through his thick, dark hair, putting the slightest amount of pressure there so that he doesn’t lift his head, doesn’t leave me.
My nipples are on fire from his attention, and he’s working his way back up my neck when the doors of the elevator open directly into his apartment.
I hardly see any of it—the expensive furniture in the sunken living room, a kitchen gleaming with top-of-the-line appliances that look like they’ve never been used—because the moment we’re inside, Dominic gets to work.
“Hands over your head, sweet thing.” I raise my arms without a moment of hesitation. He slips my dress up over my head. My bra is barely hanging on as it is, and he finishes removing it and drops it to the floor next to my dress.
Then Dominic kneels on the carpet in front of me, running his hands over the thin silk fabric of my panties. He pulls my hips toward his face, breathes in my scent, and hooks his fingers in the waistband, slowly drawing them down to my knees, and then my ankles.
I step out of those, too.
From his position on the floor, Dominic looks up into my eyes, his own filled with lustful need and power and something else, something stronger. “You’re gorgeous.” His voice emerges as a raw whisper.
“So are you.”
I can’t help but touch his upturned face, running my fingers through his hair, and he leans forward and presses his lips against my landing strip. The slightest touch sets me ablaze, and I throw my head back, sucking in a breath.
“Spread for me, sweet thing.” I move my legs apart, and he draws two fingers down my slit. “You’re so ready for me.”
“Yes.” The word comes out as a moan, a plea.
He puts his fingers in his mouth and sucks. “Mmm. I need more of that. Hold on…”
I brace myself on his shoulders, and the next instant his mouth is on me, licking, delving into my folds, sucking at my clit, lapping up all of the juices that have collected. His hands are firm on my hips, holding me in place, and oh, God—oh God—it’s a good thing, because my knees go weak from the pleasure consuming me, from his tongue diving in deep, from his fingers sliding in and out of my slick channel, pulsing against my walls while he swirls his tongue over my clit and draws it into his mouth, creating a suction that makes my legs quiver.
He’s relentless, relentless, and I can’t stop myself, I can’t control the way the air brushes teasingly against my nipples, the way his fingers fill me and tease me and torment me as he draws them slowly in and out, and I come hard into his mouth, my feet barely keeping contact with the floor.
When I open my eyes, Dominic is standing, stripping off his jacket, his shirt, his tie, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, looking at me with a passionate fire glowing in his eyes, and I can hardly get a breath because this is just getting started. And I want more of him, want to run my fingers down his washboard abs that I’m finally getting to see, want him to claim me, want to finally be his.
26
Dominic
Vivienne is pure sweetness, and I could worship her naked body and its pure womanly curves standing in my foyer for the rest of my life, if I didn’t desperately need to take her right now. Her face is pink with the afterglow of her first orgasm of the afternoon, and her nipples stand out dark and desperate, and I reach out to cup her breasts in the palms of my hands. She lets her head tilt back, breathing hard and fast. Her whole body is trembling, and I kiss her once on the lips, her softness giving way to me, and then I scoop her up in my arms.
It’s not far to the master suite, and when I get there, I lay her gently on the bed. She curls her arms up above her head, arching back, and when she speaks her voice is low, saturated with need.
“Please, Dominic. I need—”
“I need to fuck you.” There is no more time for playing games. There is no more time for anticipation, for waiting, for drawing this out, delicious as it’s been. We’re there. We’re at the moment when anticipation turns into pure agony, and I’m going to take it in my hands and turn it into sheer pleasure. I undo my belt, unzip my pants, and strip all the rest of my clothes off, then climb onto the bed and position my body over Vivienne.
“Spread wide for me.” She emits a little hitched breath, but she obeys, even though I think we both know this isn’t a game anymore, this isn’t a little interlude in my office, this is real. I have the sense that she wants to lose herself in
me, as much as I want to lose myself in her, and I’m willing to take control only as far as she needs me to in this moment.
She’s already so wet, and a new gush of her sweet juices glides over my fingers when I stroke her folds, hooking my fingers to the front, playing her like a violin. Vivienne lets out a low groan, her hips bucking up from the bedspread, and she reaches for me, her hands framing both sides of my face, drawing me down for a kiss.
She crushes her lips against mine, her tongue thrusting into my mouth, and that’s when I know.
I love Vivienne Davis.
I love her.
She wants that balance. She wants me to be who I am—powerful and in control and willing to take over when she wants to let go for a while. But she’s also powerful in her own right. She’s not afraid to take what she wants, and what she wants right now is me. Vivienne is wet for me, soaking for me, and the desperate searching of her tongue is all I need to leave every last moment of waiting behind.
I break the kiss, pulling back, and slide my arms underneath her, flipping her onto her hands and knees with a quick movement. She braces herself, automatically raising her ass into the air, lowering her head to the pillow, and I spread her creamy thighs with my hands and blow onto her folds, eliciting a low hiss.
“Yes, yes, yes. Please, Dominic, please…”
Her begging is the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard. I line up my thickness with her slit, put my hands on her hips, and pull her backward until the head of my cock is right up against her slick opening. She wriggles in my hands, trying to force herself backward onto me, but I hold her in place.