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“You’ll spend the night with me?”
“Of course.” I consider if I want to take her to my bed, but I’m not sure if I’ll get antsy and want to be alone.
I would never kick her out, but then I’d be tossing and turning.
“Okay.”
I push the covers aside and she gets in. Lying next to her, I pull her into my arms and she’s shaking.
Feeling her soft, plump ass, I’m hard all over again. “Push this leg forward, sugar.”
I reach down and nudge my cock out.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s called cock warming. I just want to sleep buried inside you.”
Her legs move, and she’s so wet, I slide right in.
The urge to pin her down and fuck her until I come is washed away knowing this thrill will last all night.
“That feels nice,” she mewls deliciously. “Don’t... Don’t leave me in the middle of the night.”
“I won’t. I got you, sugar.”
As I drift off, I whisper, “And I don’t think I can let you go.”
EIGHTEEN
BERNADETTE
When I step out of Ford’s apartment building Monday morning, a black stretch limo with a license plate that readsMrAustinwaits for me at the curb.
My heart pounds, thinking Emery will be inside it. He texted saying he would send his limo for me to get to work every day.
The driver opens the door, but it’s empty inside, deflating me.
I remind myself Emery is a powerful CEO and to keep his credibility, he can’t openly sleep with an assistant. Even if I’m a fake one.
I know he’s giving me something to do. A way to earn my keep since I can’t be his 24/7, naked, led around on a leash or tied up and waiting for him to fuck me.
Or on my knees begging to blow him.
The way Emery kissed me last week at the art store and felt my need for him, I doubt my fake boss will keep this purely platonic.
Emery’s office building is in the heart of busy and noisy Times Square, but the main entrance sits inside a courtyard filled with tables where employees eat and take breaks. Through the daunting stone arch, I look up and realize it’s not just one office building, it’s three towers.
Tri-Tech. I get it!
In one of the many Prada outfits I picked up at myformer job, all of which I had to tweak at the seams, I feel like a million dollars.
I thought ‘staying home’ to create my fashion vision would be satisfying. But coming back to an office and being part of the workforce jolts me back to life more than I would have guessed.
My hair in a twist, and expensive shoes on my feet, I strut to the guard’s desk, where a pass is waiting for me. They take my picture and hand me a laminated badge.
“It’s coded for the executive floor,” the guard points out.
My eyes stray to the gun on his waist.
