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By his last day at work, that little spark between us was ready to flare into an out-of-control inferno.
At five o’clock, Graham switched off his laptop, declaring me ready to take the reins. I smiled, but inside I was conflicted. I didn’t want him to leave.
As if he heard my thoughts, Graham reached out and took my hand in his.
“Although my contract is up, I don’t think my work here is done.” Graham stroked his thumb along the back of my hand as he spoke, and I felt tingles shoot straight to my cunt. The implication of his unsaid words sent delicious shivers through my body.
“What do you mean?”
“Have dinner with me.” It wasn’t a question. It was more like a declaration of fact.
I called Roger to let him know I’d be working late. He didn’t seem to mind. After all, he reminded me, he had to turn in early to make his eight a.m. tee-time at the club.
Graham escorted me out of the office building with a possessive hand on the small of my back. I could feel the heat of his palm through the fabric of my dress. The sensation made me long to feel his flesh against my own. He’d yet to say anything sexual, but it was clear from the beginning where the night would end—in his apartment, in his bed.
Graham hailed us a cab, directing the driver to bring us to a trendy restaurant I’d seen mentioned in the gossip pages but at which I had never dined. After an effusive greeting from the hostess, we were whisked away to a small private dining room, where Graham ordered for both of us. I let him. I liked that he seemed set on taking care of every last detail, on taking care of me. I wanted that. It seemed like I spent so much of my days working on everyone else’s behalf. I reveled in the notion that I could simply stop and be nothing but the object of one handsome man’s total attention.
The dinner was decadent and rich. Graham took every opportunity to hold my hand or stroke my cheek. I barely touched my wine; I was already dizzy with lust from being in such an intimate setting with the object of my fantasies.
“Now that we’re no longer working together, I feel I can be more honest,” Graham said, his voice having taken on a slightly husky tone.
“About what?”
“About how much I want you.”
I looked away, feeling shy and overwhelmed.
“I have a boyfriend,” I said unconvincingly.
“But he’s not enough for you—otherwise you wouldn’t be here with me.”
Graham was right, and that’s why I went home with him.
He was on me the second his door shut. Grabbing the back of my head, Graham tangled his fingers in my ebony curls and held me still for a brutally intense kiss. He fisted the hair at the nape of my neck and gave it a tug, sparking a flash of pain that made me gasp into his open mouth. He thrust his tongue between my parted lips, claiming me with his kiss, keeping me breathless and on edge as he walked me backward toward his bedroom.
Swiftly and efficiently, Graham stripped me of my work clothes, until there was nothing left for me to hide behind.
The look of raw hunger on his face made my pussy pulse. I felt truly wanted for the first time in my life. My heart was beating wildly and adrenaline rushed through my veins, but there was no place I’d rather have been.
Still fully clothed, Graham took my naked body in his arms, pulling me close for another deep kiss that tasted of whiskey and was laced with dirty promises. He traced his fingers down my arms, ending at my wrists, which he pulled behind my back and held fast with one big hand. I squirmed against him, feeling trapped and thrilled all at once.
Graham trailed his lips along my jawline, the rasp of his stubble causing my skin to pebble with goose bumps.
“You like this,” he hissed in my ear. “I can tell. You like being at my mercy.”
Graham nipped at the tender skin of my neck, and I moaned softly as his free hand stroked my bare ass.
“That’s what I like to hear, darlin’. You’re going to look so sweet tied down to my bed.”
My loud gasp gave away all my secrets. But even if I hadn’t uttered a sound, Graham’s fingers slipping between my parted thighs easily determined my truth. My pussy was wet and slick, dripping at the thought of being made his captive, of having every one of my filthy fantasies become pulse-quickening realities. My knees felt weak as Graham stroked his fingers along my slit, picking up my moisture and smearing it over my swollen clit. His slow, sexy circles teased me as he continued to croon, “You want it bad, don’t you, Josie?”
I let out another moan that was cut short by a hard slap to my ass.
“Answer me when I ask you a question,” he insisted.
“Y-yes, I want it,” I managed to reply.
“Want what, baby?”
