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“Oh, God. Gabe. I’m close. You’re going to make me come.”
The moment she admits that I pull my fingers out and stop rubbing her clit. Her hand flies to my thigh and fists my trouser leg. I feel her legs trembling against the back of my hand and my wrist.
“Please.”
She’s begging, and I love it. The risk is too great that we’ll get caught to really indulge in orgasm denial. I thrust my fingers back into her and work her until she begs again.
“Please, may I come?”
“Yes.”
She shifts her hips a few times, then goes stiff. Her hand clenches and unclenches my pants. I pry her fingers loose before they leave wrinkles. She squeezes my hand instead. When I pull them out, I spin the chair toward the windows overlooking a park. I lick each one, and I know she’s watching me.
“Tastes likemine.”
She releases a ragged sigh.
“Thank you.”
Watching and listening to her tempts me to adjust myself, but I can’t stand seeing men do that in public. I refuse to do it.
“Come with me,piccolina. I’m treating you for lunch.”
“For lunch? Not to lunch?”
“I didn’t drive today, and the town car has privacy glass.”
I infuse my voice with the authority I use when I’m a dom. She knows what I mean. It’s not a question of what we’re going to do in the car. It’s a question of what I’m going to do to her.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Wherever you want, as long as it takes an hour to get there and an hour back.”
She gathers the papers we’ve been examining and shoves them into folders. When she stands, she appears a little unsteady on her feet. She rests her hand on the table for a moment and composes herself before brushing down her skirt. She heads to the door, and I follow her.
“I’ll wait by the door. Gather your things,piccolina. Tell whoever you have to that you’re going to a meeting at Mancinelli Developers. You’re not coming back until tomorrow.”
She looks up at me, then nods. I watch her walk to her office, and no ass has ever looked finer. The things I want to do to it. I want to fuck her from behind, and I want to fuck her ass. I want to fuck our way through the Kama Sutra. She glances at me as she walks out, but turns away from me. I watch her knock on someone’s door and stick her head in. I don’t know who she’s talking to, but she better tell them she’s not coming back this afternoon.
“I think Marta knows.”
She whispers to me as we walk out to the elevator.
“I’m certain she does. That’s why she was adamant about you going to a hotel and having your own security detail. It wasn’t about propriety and appearances. She didn’t want us to be an ‘us.’ But I also think she’s accepted it. I hope she knows I have your best interests at heart.”
“She does. She said so. She just told me I should listen to whatever you tell me because she can tell my safety is your highest priority. She believes it means more to you than your freedom.”
“It does.”
She watches me for a moment, then the elevator pings, and the doors open. We face each other as we go down. Her smile dazzles me.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like someone would do anything to protect me. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like someone’s top priority. Not since before my dad started forgetting who I am.”
“I know, little one. I know you haven’t had that, but you deserve it. Your safety and happiness will always be a priority. I think you understand now why your happiness can’t always be my top priority, even when I want it to be. But nothing will ever be more important than your health and wellbeing. I won’t budge on that.”
“You make me feel safe.”
I offer her a half smile.
