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“Come for me, my darling Raven. Give me what’s mine,” he orders before fastening his mouth around my clit and sucking sharply. My body falls apart, unlocked by his claim and his command to release fully. I cry out loudly, writhing as an intense, sweeping orgasm cascades through my body.
Dylan stays there, watching me toss my head from side to side, letting me ride every bit of my pleasure before he kisses his way up my body, trailing up my stomach until he reaches my bra. He unclips it, letting it fall aside to suckle on my right nipple.
Letting go of my ankles, I run my hands through his hair, arching my back to give him more and wrapping my legs around his waist. My stockinged legs slide against his lean midsection but still keep me open and available to him.
Dylan releases my nipple to kiss up to my lips, which he captures once more as his hard cock presses against my warmth. He pins my wrists above my head and slides all the way into me until I can take no more and whimper in fullness.
He breaks our kiss to ask, “Who do you belong to, Darling?”
“You,” I respond, and I’m rewarded with a deep, quick thrust that makes the world spin.
“Say it.”
“I belong to you,” I affirm, and he rewards me with another thrust. “Fuck… please, Dylan, I’m yours.”
“Only mine,” he murmurs as he fucks me ruthlessly, takingme like he owns me.
There’s a fresh desperation to his words, like he thinks I’m going to leave him. But I’m realizing there is no leaving Dylan Sharpe. Ever. I am ruined for anyone else. I’m his, and his alone.
My heart thumps in a way that slows time.
“What are you?” he asks, and I look into his eyes to see what he wants me to say.
I know, but I don’t give it to him. Not yet.
“I’m your newest associate,” I reply, squeezing my pussy around his cock with a teasing smile. “I’m the best talent you’ve ever hired.” My lips are swollen and my breath is still coming in pants, but I tease him. He groans as though my disobedience is turning him on. I drop my voice, whispering hotly, “I’m also your sweet, dirty, naughty slut who spends every minute she’s not making you money thinking about one thing and one thing only. Fucking you senseless.”
I expect him to unleash on me, the power of the filthy words driving him wild.
“You make me so fucking happy,” Dylan says, kissing me hard and thrusting deep inside me.
I gasp, at both the sweetness of what he just shared and the feeling of him filling and stretching me to the brink of near pain until it mixes with the divine pleasure.
The sensation of his fucking me with powerful strokes erases all thoughts from my mind. I hold onto him, crying out my pleasure.
There’s no need for words. They’re not intense enough as Dylan’s hips rise and fall, his cock hammering into my eager, willing body. We say all we need to in our touch, in the way his chest presses against mine and his hands tighten on my crossed wrists. I say it in the way my legs lock around his waist, my stockinged thighs squeezing him, urging him to fuck me harder, deeper, longer.
Time evaporates, replaced with lust. Thoughts melt, replaced with feeling. And as my third release builds into atremendous tidal wave of bliss, the only things left are Dylan and the desire to be like this with him… forever.
He groans his release, and I’m there with him, our bodies thrumming with the shattering of our coming together. I hold him there, both of us frozen until we collapse, Dylan falling to the side and rolling with me to avoid hurting me.
I notice… and in that moment, I become his all the more. I don’t know when I fell, exactly, but I’m in love with him. As my heart settles, I know I have fallen for him.
Lying in his arms, my pulse still rushes through my veins, the sweat cooling on my skin as we come down from what just happened.
“Are you okay?” Dylan asks me, and I nod, kissing his chest and unable to admit aloud the thought I just had.
We lie like that, both lost in our thoughts. Tonight was big, probably the biggest leap forward we’ve had, and I think we both need some time to sit with that. Or at least I do, because now that I’m not chasing an orgasm, I can feel that something major has shifted.
“I should go home,” I whisper, not wanting to but knowing it’s probably the right thing to do.
“Stay,” he counters.
I try to imagine what that looks like and gasp. “I am not doing the walk of shame tomorrow morning in a cheap red trench coat. My neighbors would never look at me the same way again.”
He shrugs, unconcerned. “I can have clothes sent up for you.”
I push up to stare at him in shock. That thought would never occur to me. Just ‘have clothes sent’? Who does that?
