The Two Week Arrangement (Penthouse Affair, #1) novel Chapter 32

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.