The Two Week Arrangement (Penthouse Affair, #1)

Presley

I’ve never felt anything so intense. My thighs quake and my hips shove against Dominic’s mouth in uncontrollable desperation, in my need to be even closer. The sensation is almost too much, but I’m not about to back down now. I’m so close, so maddeningly close.

“Please,” I whimper. “I can’t take it, don’t stop!”

I’m not making any sense, but it doesn’t matter when his incredible tongue is flooding me with so much pleasure. He growls into me, and the vibration and the fiery hunger in his eyes when they scan mine tip me over.

Writhing, I stifle a scream as the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever had crashes through me. It goes on and on, and he doesn’t let up until I’m trembling with oversensitivity, and left feeling dazed and limp.

Holy hell!

Dominic smirks from between my legs with wolfish satisfaction. “Good, I take it?”

I nod slowly, still hazy. Good doesn’t even begin to cover it. I’ve just had my mind blown—by my boss. Oh God.

But I’m not going to question whether this is right or wrong. Not anymore, or at least, not tonight. Right now, I’m just eager to return the favor. The endorphins rushing through my bloodstream have commanded my brain to pipe down, and my body is the one doing the thinking.

The moment he gets back on the bed to kiss me, I’m fumbling for his shirt buttons with shaky fingers. He lets out a pleased hum as I unbuckle his belt. Together, we struggle to strip him and toss his clothes over the side of the bed without breaking our kiss.

With my eyes and hands, I devour each new inch of his exposed skin. His naked body is perfect, every angle and muscle sculpted by a classical artist. And when he slips off his boxers and his hard length springs free, my body gives an involuntary clench.

“You are unfairly hot,” I mumble.

He laughs. “Glad you appreciate the view.”

It’s an amazing one. But after so many days of being forced to content myself with just looking, I’m not waiting another second to taste. I scoot down his body to straddle his lower legs and bring my face close to his cock. Long, thick, flushed, and dripping . . . all because of me. I did this to him.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

And now I get to do a lot more. I lick my lips.

He blinks. “You don’t have to.”

“I know, but I want to.” So damn bad. I’ve been repressing fantasies about it since my first day at Aspen.

He strokes my hair. “Are you sure? Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable wi—”

I shut him up by closing my mouth around him, and I relish how his breath hitches and his hand stills in my hair.

“Shit. If you’re sure.” He releases a sharp exhale, then a husky noise. He rests one hand on my head and the other on my shoulder. “Go on, baby.”

The sweet name is unexpected, and out of place, but I like it much more than I thought I would. Because it came from Dominic, the always in control, always so disciplined man who’s walls are tumbling down just for me.

I hesitate, because now I actually have to figure out what I’m doing. Experimentally, I lick a line from base to tip. Wow, the skin is so soft. I taste the salt of his sweat and a hint of musk—definitely not unpleasant, especially with the quiet sigh that escapes him.

Holding him firmly by the base, I slide my lips toward my hand. My gag reflex asserts itself long before I hit bottom. Okay, not what I wanted, but I can work with this. Treat it like a popsicle, I guess. I lick and suck my way back up, then down again, and his soft groan of pleasure electrifies me. Encouraged, I continue.

“A little more—fuck, just like that. You’re doing amazing.” He groans, caressing from my shoulder, up my neck, and over my cheek. “God, look at you. Those pretty lips wrapped around me . . . You’re so sexy, it should be illegal.”

In appreciation of the compliment, I take a little more of him. His fingers knot in my hair, half directing me, half just holding on.

Letting his touch and his sensual noises guide me, I bob my head faster and swirl my tongue as I grow more confident in my technique. I see why people enjoy this—it’s so hot to hear him unravel bit by bit, so heady to learn I can make such a powerful man gasp my name, bring him so much pleasure that his muscular stomach and thighs begin to quiver.

His grip tightens spasmodically, sending pain-pleasure sparks from my scalp all the way down my spine. “Presley . . . I’m about to . . .”

I don’t stop. I want everything he can give me.

When I suck harder, he groans loud and rough, his thick, hot release pulsing over my tongue. I swallow, shocked at how intensely bitter it tastes, but still craving every drop.

“Damn . . .” He breathes out the word, and a swell of pride fills my chest.

The hand buried in my hair relaxes, caressing instead of clenching. I let my head drop into his warm lap and luxuriate in the way he’s softly stroking the long locks of my hair.

Then he adds, “That was pretty good. For an intern.”

I grab a pillow and toss it at his face. The cocky jerk just laughs. But it’s okay, because I’m giggling, too.

“I think it’s time for bed. Or do you not take suggestions from interns?” I say, returning the jab with my eyebrows raised in mock rebuke.

We’re still naked and this should feel strange, but his playful remark seems to have relaxed the charged atmosphere around us. Who knows, maybe that’s why he said it? He seems to know his way around most social situations. Even the awkward moment after you’ve just had spontaneous oral sex with an employee, I mean, intern.

Oh God, I wonder if he’s been in this situation before?