Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“Jesus Christ,” she calls out.
“Be quiet,” I grunt.
Bells ring in my ears. I tighten my jaw and grip her hips. I feel like I’m about to unravel. Like she’s a kitten and I’m a ball of yarn and she’s got the end of me between her teeth.
She’s stripped me of my self-control, had me walk back on the promise I made to myself that I’d never be tempted to use my position of power or wealth to take advantage of anyone or anything. Even though she’s assured me she wants this—wants me to fuck her, not because I’m Ben Fort, or because she thinks it will help her land her dream job—it’s not good enough. Growing up in Hollywood, I saw men use and abuse their power. I swore I’d never do it.
Then along came Efa.
She feels so perfect, so tight. Her sounds echo around me, piercing through the ringing in my ears. She reaches one hand back, pressing her hand over mine, like she’s feeling something more, something deeper—a connection.
I curl my hand into hers and thrust into her over and over. She whimpers, gripping my hand, my cock, and my chest from the inside out.
Fuck… this girl.
“No more teasing,” I say. “This is what you wanted. This is what you practically begged for.”
She’s panting, so close to the edge that I know she’ll be undone in seconds.
And thank god, because I can’t hold it together any longer. I need to be pressed up deep inside her, ripping her orgasm from her so I can have mine.
She trembles beneath me, her legs begin to shake. “Oh god,” she cries out. “Oh god,” she cries again, panic in her voice. It’s like she’s turning to liquid in my hands, I thrust up, up, up and follow her over the edge, my orgasm crashing over me like a landslide.
Shit.
We stay, bent over the desk, panting until our breaths even out.
I shift, already craving her tight heat as I slide out of her. She stands and smooths down her skirt. She turns, her face flushed, her legs still damp with a mixture of me and her. I can’t take my eyes off her.
The condom in my hand, I continue to stare. She looks up at me from under her lashes, like she’s back to being the submissive maid.
My jaw clenches. “Show me your pussy,” I growl.
Her eyes narrow in confusion, but she gathers her skirt up her thighs to reveal her underwear.
I nod in appreciation. Already I want her again. Once wasn’t enough. I’m staring at her panties. “Let me see.”
I groan as I see how her wetness has darkened the lace, and then she pulls the fabric free of her pussy so I get to see the bare flesh I’m already craving again. My heartbeat is rattling in my chest. If I can’t have her again, she’s going to feel me all day as she works.
I upend the condom and my come drips out onto the lace; bright white evidence of what just happened between us.
She gasps and looks up at me, then bites down on her lip. I lift my chin slightly in victory and she blinks, long and slow, like she’s dizzy with desire.
I drop the condom into the trash and she lets go of her panties with a snap. She’ll feel my come on her pussy every step she takes for the rest of the day. The thought makes me want to beat my chest, lock the door, and do nothing but fuck her again and again and again.
I zip up my pants and buckle my belt.
She tilts her head slightly and smooths down her skirt. “Is there anything else I can do for you… sir?”
All I can do is growl at her, and just as I’m about to suggest she gets on her knees, the whir of the suite door’s lock pulls our attention, and we both snap our heads around. I feel like a naughty schoolboy who’s about to get caught with his hand in the candy jar, but I wouldn’t take any of it back.
She picks up her duster from where she’s dropped it on the floor and scurries over to the couch. I flip open my laptop.
The blood in my ears is pounding, my orgasm still whispering in the distance as I stare at the screen.
This is my fucking hotel, and I don’t care what anyone thinks of me, but I don’t want to get Efa into trouble. I imagine bending over for guests is frowned upon.
The older woman comes through the door and heads to Efa. Is she going to suspect? I can’t imagine anyone can fuck like that and not have the aftermath showing somewhere—a graze on her neck, a rumpled uniform, the scent of lust.
But I only hear the two of them moving around the suite. After just a couple of minutes, they disappear, and I can breathe again.