Was this how he’d felt all these years?
Maybe I understood that feeling more than I thought I did.
But even more than liking to watch Donovan—I liked it when he watched me.
He made me wait, arriving a long five minutes later, naked now himself. He leisurely stroked his cock as he walked in, and I felt my jaw drop. He was magnificent. So magnificent to look at. Even in the dark, with only the light of the city streaming through the window. I'd already had two massive orgasms, and at the sight of him, all power and man, I was aching for him to be inside me again.
This time, he did taunt me. Instead of plunging inside me, he stared at me, his eyes glazed and filled with lust.
"Sabrina, you can’t imagine the things I think about, seeing you like this." He came up behind me, and swiped his free hand across my wet pussy, dragging my cum up higher, to the rim of my asshole. "So, so pretty.” He pressed his thumb just inside.
I bucked forward, surprised by the invasion.
But he persisted. "You’ll let me in here, if that's where I want to be."
And I would. After every other invasion, it seemed almost inevitable. I did trust him. I had a safe word.
Still, I wasn't sure I was ready for that now. Not when what we had was still so fragile and, not new, exactly, but raw.
My heart sped up as he pushed in even farther. "Don't worry, Sabrina. Not tonight. But when I say."
Then his cock was at my entrance, sinking into me, slow this time, so I could feel the length of him as he fell in. His thumb remained where he'd put it inside my other hole, and with both parts of him filling me, I felt so full and tight, like I was inflating, like everywhere was being pressed against at once.
I let out a moan, long and low as he rode in and out, massaging all my nerve endings.
I couldn't think in words anymore. Couldn't think in details. All I was aware of was this feeling of abundance, a feeling that existed not just in my lower regions, but everywhere inside me. As though the tiny speck of contentment that existed in me at all times had suddenly ballooned, reaching out along every vein, along every bone to the ends of my appendages, from the top of my head to the ends of my toes. Tears gathered at the corners of my eyes, and the final orgasm that Donovan teased from me stretched and lingered like a new morning on a spring day, tightening and pulling, screaming from my being.
When everything was drained from me, I collapsed, listless, on the bed. Donovan secured his grip on my hips and pummeled into me, racing toward his own climax, eager to join me. Soon, his pace lagged and his thrusts deepened until finally he stalled. With a ragged grunt, he spilled his release inside me and fell on the bed at my side.
I opened my eyes, barely conscious, fighting against exhaustion. We had needed each other like this. Needed to let our bodies speak to each other in the dirty, filthy ways we knew best.
Now there were other things to be said. We had no course set for where to go from here. I needed a road map. I needed to know we were in this together. I needed to know exactly what this was. And I was afraid that if I let sleep take me, I'd be alone when I woke up later.
But when I met his gaze, steady and piercing, I realized the fear was unwarranted. Whether or not he was in my bed in the morning, I knew the truth now—Donovan was always with me. He never really left me alone.
Chapter 10
“Have lunch with me," Donovan said, interrupting my daydreams.
I looked up to see him standing in the doorway of my office. I’d just been thinking about him, remembering the night before. When I’d stared into his eyes, dark and vague in color in the lightless room. "What are you thinking?" I’d asked.
"I'm thinking you probably want to be fed before I fuck you again. But I don't know if I care."
He’d left my house late in the night, but I'd seen him around the office already this morning. We'd brushed past each other at the Monday morning executive meeting, my body immediately going on high alert, and though our conversation had been benign, the tone and subtext of our meaning was heavy. I belong to you. You belong to me.
Even though we never actually said those words. We had barely said any words the night before, spending most of our time preoccupied with reacquainting ourselves with each other's physical landscape.
Which meant there was still part of our relationship in limbo. But wasn't every relationship in some form of limbo, until someone put a ring on it?
Shaking off the dizziness that the sight of him brought on, I rushed to see if anyone noticed him sneak into my office. Thankfully I saw no one but Ellen, my secretary.
"I can't go to lunch with you," I said, pulling him in and shutting the door behind him. God, just the touch of his hand on mine made my entire body spark.
"You can. Your schedule is free. I already checked with your secretary." His fingers were playing with mine, but my eyes were on his smirk.
"That isn't why I can't have lunch with you," I whispered, as if I'd be heard even behind the closed door. "People will talk."
He dropped my hand and crossed the room, turning to lean on my desk. "You have lunch with Weston, don't you?" He didn't look at me, instead poking nosily at the papers I had laid out on the workspace behind him.
"That's different. He's my boss." I walked over to my desk and straightened my papers as I spoke.
"I'm your boss." This time he gave me the full piercing weight of his hazel eyes, and I hated that I was going to have to defend Weston, but I was.
"You're not the boss I report to."
He let that sit for several seconds. It was impossible to refute. Weston was in charge of marketing. Donovan was in charge of operations. There wasn't a reason for me to have lunch with the chief of operations.
Unless I was banging him.
"So people will talk,” he said, deciding where he stood on the matter.
I was flabbergasted. This was not the man I’d been with the last few months. That man had winced at the slightest hint of scandal between us. Yeah, things were different now, and he wasn’t worried I’d find out his deep dark secret—that he’d been secretly in love with me for years. But just because things were different, I wasn't sure I wanted people thinking I was slutting it up with one of the presidents of the company.
"I—"
Donovan cut me off, apparently bored with the conversation. "Sabrina," he said, standing. "I don't give a fuck about other people. Come to lunch with me."
Twenty minutes later we were seated downstairs in the New York Minute Grill with our meals on the table in front of us. The restaurant had been Donovan's choice, proving how much he really didn't give a fuck about other people, seeing as how the New York Minute Grill was located in the very same building as Reach.
Quietly, I'd been on the lookout for anyone from the office for the first quarter of an hour, but despite the location of the restaurant, I hadn’t seen anyone I knew and was forced to relax and admit it hadn’t been a bad decision after all.
So a few bites into my pear pecan salad, I set down my fork, took a swallow of my ice water, and smiled at the man across from me. "Thank you for dragging me out of my cave."
It was actually really nice to be out in the open with Donovan. It was like a real date, and we hadn’t really had one of those. Sure, we'd gone to the Japanese restaurant and Gaston's, but one had been a weird feeling-each-other-out scenario and the other had just been a precursor to sex. Today's meal was something else entirely. It was two people wanting to spend time together because they liked to spend time together.