Entry-Level Mistress - By Sabrina Darby Page 0,23
the air. I didn’t move, gasping. Feeling the loss and terrified that I’d broken something.
“Turn around,” he commanded softly. He knelt down and I followed.
On the floor, he thrust back into me, his face buried against the curve of my shoulder. I gloried in the fullness, in the feel of his body between my legs and inside of me. He was mine for just a little longer. I lifted a hand and wrapped it around his neck, curving around the base of his head, something like tenderness in that touch.
• • •
Standing in front of the elevator bank, feeling languid and rumpled, I pressed myself to him, arms draped over his shoulders. He’d come when I called. It made me want him even more—something I’d have to analyze later, much later, as if I could ever turn off the ridiculous analyzing machine of my brain.
“Now I’m going to have to think up some reason for leaving him for fifteen minutes.”
“And for looking a bit less pressed than you did before,” I teased.
“Yes, exactly.” He laughed, but I thought I heard an edge to that. “I didn’t build my reputation on lies.”
Didn’t you? The response stopped at the barrier of my lips and I let the silence stand. It was so easy for me to forget who he really was.
“So why don’t you tell him then that the marketing department needed you,” I said instead, pressing myself even closer as if the continued embrace could make my thoughts disappear. If I simply closed my eyes and held on, I could ride the dizzying thrill of it all. Just feel.
He took my arms and slid them from his body, stepped back. I opened my eyes.
“You would think these little work breaks would make it easier to concentrate, but I’ll still be thinking about taking you home, having you naked. Taking our time.”
His words were making me want him again, making the blood rush through my body, heat gather between my thighs. After all these years of looking at his face in magazines, of being fascinated by him, it was stunning to know he desired me. Good for my ego, for sure.
“I’m going home after work,” I said abruptly.
“Emily—” I liked his protestation. He’d come at my text and now he still wanted my company.
“I have mail, bills, something.” And since my first paycheck had been deposited directly into my account, I wanted to go shopping, to buy lingerie and shoes. Yes, it was completely indulgent and likely a waste of the excess money but at the same time, I was twenty-one and stepping out with a handsome billionaire. Clearly, to achieve revenge, I needed to be well dressed. “Don’t you have any friends?”
He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, the epitome of amused, slightly rumpled and devastatingly handsome billionaire. I liked seeing him this way and I liked how easily our interchanges shifted from humor to sexual tension and back again.
“None that I want to sleep with.”
I grinned. “OK. I’ll call you when I get home.”
Chapter 7
It took me longer than usual to get ready and when, hair still wet and only a towel around me, I stepped into the living room to grab my phone and see if he’d called, there was Daniel, sitting and chatting with Leanna.
“Oh.” I took a step back as both pairs of eyes focused on me. “I, um, am running late.”
“Clearly,” he said, but I recognized that look in his eyes. He stood. I glanced at Leanna who was looking back and forth between the two of us.
“Daniel and I were just discussing Manhattan,” Leanna said, as if there wasn’t anything awkward about that moment, although obviously she was aware of the undercurrent of sexual tension and amused by it all. “And NYU. Aaannd I need to go make a phone call.”
I was only dimly aware of Leanna leaving the room because Daniel was coming closer. He put his hand on my back and steered me gently, his voice a whisper.
“Why don’t you show me your room?”
My breath caught in my throat and I turned, nearly stumbling over myself. I felt young and caught, as if everything about me were laid bare.
He walked past me into the bedroom and I closed the door behind him. When he stopped, surveying the space, I realized suddenly how it would look to a stranger. It wasn’t a large room and though clean, it was filled to the brim with neatly stacked piles of books, artwork and cheap furniture.