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“Solomon,” she whimpers.
“Oh, I see,” I smirk, bringing my lips to hers, looking directly into her innocent dark eyes. “You thought I was playing a game with you. You thought I was staying away on purpose to give you all the time in the world to get nice and horny for me.”
She moans again.
My manhood couldn’t be stiffer. It’s flooded, irrepressible, my seed trying to explode out the end of my tingling helm. The feel of her through my pants, grinding, makes my balls go tight, tension-filled, and ready to erupt.
“You’re ready,” I groan, the realization slamming into me. “Fucking hell, Sophia. I can see it in you. You want to feel my big hard dick in that tight virgin cunt, don’t you?”
She tilts her head up at me, biting her lip.
I should take a picture of this moment.
She looks nervous and sassy and shy and confident all at once.
“Just don’t expect too much from me,” she sighs.
“Is that a yes?” I groan.
She stares at me. I grip her ass even harder, compressing her flesh, delighting in the way it shifts around my dominator’s touch.
“I asked you a question, Sophia,” I growl.
“Yes,” she moans, pushing her ass out against my hands.
The pressure of our bodies is driving me feral.
“But—”
But Caitlin.
“But nothing,” I snap. “I’ll die if I don’t feel how hot and tight you feel around my dick. Your womb needs it. My seed needs it. Our bodies are dying for it. So let’s give it to them.”
I take her hand and lead her toward the end of the room, to a portion of the wall that looks like any other. A painting hangs here, abstract art, all cubes, and collections of distorted colors.
I glance at my woman, her head tilted at the artwork.
“Not a fan?” I ask.
“I’ve never been a great lover of abstract art,” she mutters.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “Soon, every office I own will be filled with the paintings of the famous artist Sophia Sky.”
She flinches, letting out a little gasp that sounds like a pleasure exhalation.
For a moment, I’m confused.
But then I replay what I just said.
Sophia Sky, not Sophia Clarkson.
Where the hell does she think this is going to end?
I grab the painting and lay it against the wall, deciding to table that particular matter for a while. Right now, all I can think about is how juicy her ass felt in my hands, how she shifted against my touch, begging for more with her body even if her virginal shyness makes it difficult for her to use her tongue.
I lean over to the keypad and type in the passcode.
Grabbing onto Sophia’s gorgeously sweaty little hand again, I pull her backward as the wall starts to crank and hum and make grinding sounds, opening outward.
“Seriously, Solomon,” she giggles. “You’ve got to be a spy.”
I smirk and lead her down the hallway.
Lights flicker on as we walk, and then turn off behind us, so it’s like we’re floating along an island of light. The door doorway grinds as it automatically closes.
“Where are you taking me?” she murmurs.
“Do you trust me?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says. “With everything I have. I’m just curious.”
“To the roof,” I tell her. “I just thought it would be better not to be seen, not until …”
“I understand,” she says, giving my hand a squeeze as we reach the end of the hallway.
I open the door for her and wave her through, and she giggles and steps forward.
I can’t resist the urge to reach down and give that juicy ass – so mouth-watering round into those pants – a playful spank.
She moans and shivers, my receptive little virgin.
I lead her up the staircase and to the door that leads to the roof.
Pushing it open, sunlight floods over us, and a light breeze whispers over us.
I walk out onto the roof and she follows, and for a second the two of us just pause and stare down at the city.
“It’s so beautiful from up here,” she murmurs. “The way the light plays with all that metal and glass, the way it sparkles off the water, it’s magical.”
I move up behind her, hugging her like I did in the office. This is fast becoming my favorite way to embrace her. I get the scent of her hair and the feel of her round ass, and if I want I can slide my hands up and start palming those made-to-be-milked tits of hers.
“Paint it,” I tell her. “I know you’ll make it incredible. But later. Right now, we’ve got plans.”
“Plans?” she murmurs. “What plans?”
I smirk, knowing she can feel the shape of my lips against the top of her head, tingling against her scalp.
Both of us are primed and ready to go, every inch of us roaring in unified desire.
“Come on, my little dreamer,” I say. “You wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise, would you?”
