He doesn’t ask. Instead, he takes the lead and pushes my black pencil skirt up and over my hips. A growl rumbles from deep in his chest. He’s an animal when it comes to fucking. The scrap of material I’m wearing is ripped—yes, torn—from my body.
Then I feel it. His hot breath. His beard. His hands.
He grips the cheeks of my ass and opens me to his gaze. It’s filthy. It’s so fucking dirty, but I’m soaked. “You’re glistening. You love being filthy, don’t you, little tease?”
I can’t answer, because the next second his tongue is flattened against my core. A long, torturous lick from my clit to my ass. I tense when he teases his tongue on the forbidden entrance. “What—?”
He growls against my sensitive flesh. A harsh spank on the cheek of my ass has me yelping loudly. “Thank fuck I had this room soundproofed,” he mumbles as he devours me.
His tongue darts around my entrance.
Teasing. Taunting. Tasting.
My hands claw at something, anything, but I can’t find purchase on the slippery mahogany top. His face is buried between my legs. The ticklish sensation of his beard sends me into orbit, but it’s his filthy words that send me over the edge.
“Drench me with your delicious juices, Hope. Come for me. I want to drink every fucking drop of your sweetness.”
I convulse. Shockwaves of pleasure shoot through me. My nerves are electric with need, adrenaline, something. Stars dot the back of my eyelids as I call out his name, begging, pleading for him to stop, continue, I’m not sure what.
Moments later when I finally come down from my high, I find Tyler standing back, watching me with an elicit smirk on his lips. He’s handsome, painfully so. I’m not sure I’m the type of woman he could ever offer a forever to, but something clenches in my chest, and I know I have to push it away.
“You’re delicious, Hope. Tonight, I’m going to take you to dinner.” His voice is filled with serious intent. Is he for real right now?
I rise slowly, my legs still wobbly from what he’s just done to me. “On a date?” I ask, confused at what he means because Tyler Masterson does not date. He’s well-known for his one-night stands. Women come and go, but he’s never been seen with a woman more than once.
It would be stupid of me to get involved. Professionally, and emotionally. I should steer clear of him, especially tonight. It’s Valentine’s Day, and I should be doing what I do every year—staying home and eating a tub of ice cream while watching some sappy romance.
He folds his arms across his chest. “What else would it be?”
I’m not sure what to say. I don’t know what it would be going to dinner with my boss. Perhaps it could be a professional work dinner. On Valentine’s Day, Hope? Yeah, perhaps I’m right. Tyler is really taking me out.
“Why?”
A wolfish smirk turns his mouth sinful, and his eyes draw up my body and lock on my questioning gaze. “Because for some reason, fucking you isn’t enough. I’m not sure why, but I want to get to know who the real Hope Silverton is.” He steps in closer, his body flush with mine and his hands cup my face gently. His lips fall to mine, and I can’t stop the moan that tumbles from my lips when he runs his hands down my shoulders, until he reaches my ass.
Tyler takes that opportunity to dip his tongue into my mouth, allowing his to dance with mine. I taste myself on him, and it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced. We’re tangled heat, and fused need. Our lips mold to each other, and my hands fist his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.
I’m not sure how long I’m lost in his toe-curling kiss, but when he pulls back, his eyes are dark, filled with hunger that has my core pulsing for more.
Without another word, he leaves me gaping at his back. My boss just made me come all over his mouth, and he’s just admitted to wanting more. I glance down to right my clothes when I notice he pulled my skirt back down, but I’m still bare underneath, and my thong is gone.
He must have it.
Asshole.
I should refuse a date with him.
But the problem is I can’t deny it.
I don’t want to say no to him.
Chapter Two
Tyler
When I reach my office, her scent is all over my face. It’s intoxicating. I’m painfully hard, but I didn’t want to take her in the office. No. I’ll wait until tonight when I can really show her what a good fuck is, and this time, she’ll be begging for more. I’ll make sure she remembers our evening, every damn minute of it. Settling into my chair, I wake the computer and open my email. Creating a new message, I type out an email to Oliver Michaelson. He’s one of my oldest friends, and I know he was in the market for an assistant.
For some reason, I want to try this with Hope. It’s been months since she’s been working for me, and her professionalism is impeccable, bar for that one night we lost all control. If I can get her a job with Michaelson, I can attempt a relationship with her.
It’s been a long while since I’ve even considered something like this. That I’ve even thought of being with a woman more than once. I’ve always been focused on work, and even when I was married, I knew that I wasn’t in it like I should be. I made that mistake, but I don’t want to make it again.
Having Hope work for Oliver will allow me to date her. My rule about not fraternizing with staff has already flown out the window, and I don’t want to have to do it again. I’d like to make this official, if she’ll have me. And I can’t do that while she’s in my office day in and day out.
The rest of the day goes by quickly, and by the time I’m walking out of the office, passing Hope’s desk, it’s five p.m. “I’ll pick you up at seven,” I tell her as I leave with my briefcase in hand. I should go through case notes tonight, but I’d rather study Hope’s beautiful curves.
I don’t wait for her response, and by the time I’ve slipped into the driver’s seat of my Aston, I know I didn’t stop because I was afraid that she would refuse. I’m not sure what this woman is doing to me, but one night with her certainly isn’t enough, and now I find myself doing the one thing I never planned to do—go back for seconds.
Once I get home, I make my way into the cellar and grab two bottles of white wine and a thousand-dollar red I’ve been saving for a special occasion. Tonight, I’d like to bring Hope back here, and I would love to offer her something to drink that’s better than anything she’s ever had.
As soon as the bottles are situated, I head to the bedroom, tug off my tie, and unbutton my shirt while padding into the bathroom to turn on the shower. I need to calm myself before dinner because I know I won’t have a moment’s reprieve from my hard-on when I’m around her.
I recall the day she walked into my office as I step under the spray.
“Good morning, Mr. Masterson.” She smiles. A beauty dressed in an exquisite, charcoal pencil skirt that hugs her slender frame. Her blouse is a soft-pink, the material far too loose for me to see the curve of her breasts, but I know she’s built to perfection just from the slightness of her stature.
“Please, Ms. Silverton, have a seat.” She does as I ask, and I can’t help but smile. “Tell me why you’d like to work for me.”