by K. I. Lynn
“She’s downstairs. I’ll go collect her for dinner,” I said before turning and heading back toward the elevator.
“Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes,” Amara called after me.
After I’d shown her the theater room on her birthday and the excitement she exhibited, I’d expected to find her down there more often, but it was the first time. It was very possible that she spent time there during the day, but I was curious what had captured her so much that she was still down there.
The sounds of something playing hit my ears as I slid through the doors. Even the clunk of the door couldn’t pull her attention from the screen, and she failed to notice me.
I was completely enamored watching her screen-highlighted features that I had paid no attention to anything other than her. The recliner legs were up, exposing the way her tight-clad hips were grinding against the leather.
My gaze flicked to the screen, and I was shocked watching a man grab the back of a woman’s neck and turn her back to him. They were naked in a shower, and it surprised me to see her so captivated by such a film, but soon realized it was not one of a pornographic nature.
A groan left me, thinking about how she was grinding against her seat, and my cock began to harden, desperate to fill her ache.
I moved toward her and the movement caught her eye, causing her head to snap toward me. She froze as she stared at me while I took the seat next to her.
An alluring siren drawing me in without even realizing it. The pink of her cheeks and the way she clenched and rubbed her thighs was coiling me tighter and tighter. She was a delectable snack, and I wanted a taste.
I leaned forward, my lips ghosting her ear, and I grinned at her shuddered intake of breath.
“That feeling you have right now? The fire in your blood and the heat between your thighs? That’s lust.”
She turned to me, our lips almost touching. Her wide eyes met my lust-laden ones. I perused her body, noting how close her hand had gotten to her clit between her thighs. Her pert nipples were next, followed by those sinful lips I’d dreamt about stretching around my cock for over a year.
“Take off your shirt,” I ordered.
“N-no.”
“Your nipples are already stretching against the fabric in such a lewd manner.” I flicked my fingers across the small bumps, earning a sharp moan that moved straight to my dick. “Show me how aroused you are.”
“Show me how aroused you are.”
Atticus had shown up so suddenly that I was still trying to process what was going on. When did he get home? What time was it? All questions that should have been burning through my mind, but instead, all I couldn’t think about were his lips and hands.
The movie had pulled me in, and I’d lost track of all senses except for the heat pooling between my thighs.
“Do you want help?”
My heart jumped, and I stared at him.
Yes.
Yes.
I wanted him to touch me so badly, but I’d made the rule in the contract. At that moment, I didn’t care. I needed him to touch me.
And touching wasn’t sex.
“Yes,” I whispered, my breath hitching.
A low rumble of approval resonated in his chest, and he moved to loom over me. The anticipation only amped up my desire. Inches apart, and I could feel the soft tickle of his breath against my neck before I jumped at the sudden electric shock of his touch on my thigh.
A low chuckle left him as he slowly moved his fingers inward until they were running along the seam of my leggings.
“Such heat,” he whispered as he pressed his fingertips in.
My heartbeat sped up and a moan ripped through me. It was the first time in a year that anyone had touched me, and the blood in my veins seemed to explode upon contact, even with the cloth barrier between us.
“Hmm, I like that sound.” His touch remained strong as he moved up to my waistband. Our eyes locked as his fingers slipped between the waistband and my skin.
It was incredibly hard to keep myself from grabbing hold of him, because I knew if I did, I would give in. My eyelids drifted closed as he skimmed my clit and down to my lips.
“You’re incredibly wet, my dear. Just what kind of movie is this, hmm?”
Uncontrollably, my hips moved against his hand, and I stared up at the ceiling, lost in the feel of his fingers curled inside me. I fisted the arm of the chair, my body moving against the one spot he was touching.
“Look at me,” he said lowly.
A shudder rolled through me at his words and the commanding tone. It was the same tone from that night, the one that I’d recalled over and over. When our eyes met, every muscle clenched. The powerful darkness of his eyes drew me in, and I cursed as my body begged to break.
Just a little more.
“What are you doing to me?” he whispered against my lips.
“Aren’t I the one that’s supposed to be asking that?”
That earned me a growl and the palm of his hand to rub my clit harder, his fingers curled in the perfect spot. A whimper fled from me and I grabbed onto his arm, resisting the urge to take hold of his shoulders.
A sudden tug on my waistband with his free hand drew my attention, watching as he pushed my leggings down my hips, then down my thighs. I didn’t even protest, my body so needy for his touch.
“Spread your legs.”
Electricity pulsed everywhere he touched me, and even a single glance set me on fire. I stood no chance, and my legs, still tangled in my leggings, drew up as my thighs opened, exposing where his fingers were still buried.
A groan left him and he pulled his fingers out, spreading my juices across my skin. My hips rocked, and a whimper left me. When did I become such a desperate woman driven by her pussy?
“Look at that beautiful pussy,” he said, his tone low and gravelly, sending a shiver down my spine. He was entranced, watching his fingers move in and out. “You have no idea how much I want to be buried inside you.”
Something about the desperation in his tone and the way the words slipped from his lips made me come undone. I needed them as much as I needed his eyes burning into my soul, as much as his touch scorching every inch of my skin.
“Look at me,” he growled. His hand gripped my jaw, just like it had that night, and forced my gaze to meet him. The fingers inside me began to move deeper and harder, chasing a purpose, while his grip tightened.
My back arched, unable to handle his onslaught, every muscle locking down. His lips ghosted mine as he began snarling, his force growing.
I could do nothing but feel him, his desire and lust that he held by a fraying cord ready to snap at the slightest. His lips crashed to mine and a whimper left me as my lips parted, his tongue brushing against mine, pushing me into the cushion of my chair.
The grip on my jaw released, and he took hold of my hand and pulled it to him, pressing my palm against the hard, hot outline of his cock.
“Tell me you want it.”
I locked my jaw down so that my mouth wouldn’t betray me and shook my head.
“Tell me, and I’ll let you come. Beg for my cock.”
My mouth fell open, a scream leaving me as my body convulsed against the recliner, gripping his arm as I held his hand in place, riding out my orgasm.
I collapsed down, aftershocks rocking my body as nerves fired off.
I was faced with the terrifying fact that Atticus had given me the hardest orgasm I’d had since the last time he touched me like that over a year before. A shock rocked through me as his fingers slipped out.
I glanced up in time to watch as his tongue lapped at his fingers, licking up my juices. My face flamed as my senses began to return, and I was ready to bolt when his knee settled between my thighs.
Startled by the intensity in which he stared at me, I’d forgotten that my hand was still softly stroking him through his slacks.
“My turn,” he said as he pulled the zipper down.
Deftly, he freed hims
elf by simply pulling his length through the hole his zipper made. I stared at it, having forgotten how large he was. My pussy pulsed in longing, wanting to feel him fill me again.
I wrapped my hand around him, lost in the reality of what my fantasies could not do justice to. His low moans were a sweet symphony of longing and desire I knew all too well. He watched silently on as I caressed him, slowly jerking him off.
The urge to take him into my mouth, to feel the hot, silky weight of his cock on my tongue was so strong. But I knew if I did that, it would no longer be a period of mutual masturbation and would cross the line, blurring them until they were gone altogether.
He caged me against the recliner, hands on either side of me locked down onto the frame while his hips rolled his cock through my hands.
With yet another sexy sound, he ripped my shirt up so that it rested above my breasts. I wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Push them together,” he instructed in that tone that left no room for argument.
My breasts were not very big, quite small actually, and I had to use my fingers to bridge across the top. I loved the deep groan that resonated in his chest and the clouded look in his eyes as he thrust between my breasts.
Without warning, I felt a warm splash beneath my jaw before a deep growl left him and another splash hit my chin and bottom lip. More warm ropes of cum landed on my chest and pooled at my collarbone and the hollow of my throat before a final flex of his hips and the last drops released.
He was breathing heavily as he pulled back. Reaching up, he swiped the droplets that landed on my lips away before leaning in for a kiss.
“Dinner should be ready by now.”
I blinked at him. After all that, those were his next words?
“That’s it?”
His brow arched. “What would you have me say?”
“I’m covered in your cum. Doesn’t that evoke some response?”
“I forgot how soft your skin felt. If you find yourself in this state of arousal again, please don’t hesitate to ask me for my assistance.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and glared.
His lips drew up into a smirk and he pressed another kiss to my lips.
“Thank you for the spirited welcome home, my dear.”
I pushed him away and sat up. “Yeah, that’s not happening again.” I felt the cooling liquid start to slide and I pulled my shirt off to catch it before it was everywhere. However, when I was done, it hit me. “Ah…crap.”
I glanced at him, just then noticing his rolled-up sleeves, my gaze stopping at them. Why did the man have to look that good in a suit?
After he finished tucking himself away, he glanced over. He began to undo the buttons to his vest before sliding it off his shoulders and onto mine.
“Too big.”
He helped me pull my arms through, then buttoned it up the front. “It will do until you get back upstairs.”
With a swipe to the tablet, the movie stopped and the lights came on. He set it back in its charging spot and held out his hand.
“Come.”
“I think I just did,” I said as I slipped my hand in his.
A moan slipped past his lips. “Are you sure I ca—”
“No sex,” I said, cutting off what I knew was going to be another attempt to convince me.
“Yes, my dear,” he replied as we walked toward the elevator and back up to our floor.
From then on, I decided not to watch anymore sexy romance movies right before he got home. I couldn’t take a repeat, because I knew another encounter would break my clause in the contract.
I wouldn’t be able to hold back the need to feel him inside me again. The tenuous thread of my desire would snap, and I would give everything to him.
Staring out across the buildings at the river, I focused on my reflection, my fingers running across my lips. I could still feel the tingle, the overpowering explosion of his lips on mine.
Ever since his fingers were inside of me, I’d thought of nothing more than having him between my thighs, filling me with his cock.
How many times had I rocked on my vibrator until I passed out over the last few days? I was constantly chasing that high he gave me, but always unable to get there and I knew why.
It was all Atticus.
It wasn’t just lust and attraction that drove us together—that was just a catalyst. My need for him grew every day, and not just physically. Emotionally, I’d become attached. I enjoyed our time together, even if it was just spent lounging on the couch or having dinner. We didn’t often go out together, but I found I didn’t mind that, even though cabin fever was becoming a real problem.
In fact, I couldn’t stay there another minute. I had to get out, because working out or masturbating wasn’t helping to calm the overpowering itch anymore. A vicious vibration pulsed through my veins. It was a cross between anxiety and craving. A withdrawal symptom that begged for just one more touch, one more kiss.
“Look at me.”
A shudder rolled through me.
When he said that, I was transported back to that night and nearly lost all sense of self-control.
I wanted to see him. Outside of the condo. Outside of family matters and events. I wanted to go out with him. He was my fiancé, after all. What stopped me from going to his office and pulling him away for lunch?
We’d gotten closer and proven there was more between us than attraction. I no longer felt like we were strangers, but two people trying to make something more concrete work. A real relationship was in the realm of possibility. All we had to do was make a conscious effort to give it a shot. If it didn’t work, we still had the contract to fall back on.
As much as the wicked king had frightened me, that wasn’t all there was to Atticus. He was multifaceted and hard to understand, but he wasn’t the cold man I thought him to be, and I wanted to know all sides of him.
Including physically.
Maybe that was my out-of-control hormones, but couldn’t we be more? Be real? Did we have to be the type of relationship drawn up in the contract that was written up when we were strangers?
We didn’t have to have a test-tube baby. I hadn’t really wanted that then, and I didn’t now. It was the only card I held, and I used it to keep a small increment of power in a heavily weighted arena.
First order of business when it came to entering the de Loughrey Tower was my battle armor. To be with Atticus, any time I exited the building I had to exude confidence and elegance, even if I was shaking in self-doubt on the inside.
But I was learning to be both myself and a de Loughrey. It was all about balance. In order to not lose myself entirely, I was absolutely and completely me as soon as I entered the condo. T-shirt, shorts, tank tops, leggings, no makeup, shoes optional, hair maybe brushed—relaxed Ophelia.
De Loughrey Ophelia was decked out in high-end everything. Even all my makeup was thrown away and replaced. Nothing could even look like it had the possibility of any wear on it unless it was made that way.
Once my hair and makeup were done, I pulled on a white pair of capris and a sky-blue flutter-sleeved top. All of the pieces came together and were crowned by The Rock.
As I gave myself a once-over in the mirror, I was halted by my reflection. Evolution stared back at me. It was no longer a painted-on mask, but a new part of me. I recognized the woman that stared back, even if I did think she was outclassing me.
With each step out of the building toward the waiting car, my confidence grew. I understood the steps, no longer floundering around, stumbling like a newborn calf knocking things over.
The feeling coursing through me continued as I made my way across the lobby of the de Loughrey Tower, stopping at the private executive elevator. When I arrived at the top floor, the purposeful, confident strides slowed as I grew closer to his closed door. Holly’s chair was empty. The door was closed. Another glance at Holly’s empty seat and my stomach sank as wild imaginations began to fly around.
After that look she
’d given me the last time, I’d been on edge about what their relationship entailed. They seemed too close, and a sudden shot of anger and jealousy pierced my chest.
None of the other assistants batted an eye at me, and I didn’t even bother knocking as I wrapped my hand around the knob. I drew in a deep breath to steel myself, then turned the handle and stepped through the threshold into his office.
While none of my wild imaginings of Holly draped over his desk naked appeared before me, I wasn’t fond of the way she was draped over his shoulder. He turned to smile at her, neither noticing the door had opened, their lips mere inches from each other.
It was intimate, much too intimate for a subordinate. One I’d witnessed before.
A spark of anger ignited in my chest, and my teeth mashed together as I glared at them. Just what was going on between them?
“Ophelia?” Atticus called, breaking me away from my turbulent emotions.
I caught Holly’s eye and she straightened, taking a file with her. “I’ll get this sent out with the noon courier.”
He nodded. “Remind me later—”
“To talk to Silas about the Harrington integration. You got it, Att.”
I flinched at the nickname, my fists clenching at my side.
Holly smiled at me as she approached. “You look beautiful today, Ophelia.” Her smile faltered at my glare as she passed.
Once the door was closed, it was just the two of us. That powerful need to have him touch me was replaced by the equally powerful urge to punch something. Preferably him.
“I wasn’t expecting you.”
My gaze snapped to him. “What the fuck is going on, Atticus?”
His brow scrunched. “Whatever do you mean?”
I stomped forward and stopped in front of his desk. “What is going on with you and Holly? Are you fucking her?”
His gaze narrowed and the warmth seeped from him, replaced with the coldness of the wicked king.
“I’m not fucking my assistant, Ophelia. If anyone was to have an affair with Holly, it would be you.”
“Me?”