Seven Nights of Sin (Penthouse Affair #2)

Chapter 20 Presley

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“Get over here and ride me,” he murmurs, his hand sliding up until he finds my breast and gives my nipple a playful pinch. Pleasure zings through me, both at his words and the feel of his hands toying with my breasts.

Tucking my legs on either side of his torso, I raise up on my knees and position myself over him. Dominic lets out a soft groan, shuddering as I lower myself.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Don’t move for a sec,” he says as his hands tighten on my hips.

My eyes sink closed at the exquisitely full feeling of him inside me.

When I open my eyes, Dominic’s hooded gaze latches onto mine, and his expression is filled with things I’ve never seen before—wonder and vulnerability, and of course enough pleasure to end this ride in about three minutes flat if we’re not careful.

His hands find my ass and he lifts me, easing out and then sliding me back down again. We both groan. With his help, I find my rhythm, riding him as we gaze at each other. I plant my hands firmly against his chest, and Dominic rocks beneath me.

His hand slides to my throat so that his thumb can find its destination—my mouth. I suck it in, relishing the taste of his salt and my own sweat. Then he drops his damp thumb between my legs, and I whimper at the immense sensations shooting through me.

With each caress, I lose track of the rhythm of my hips, growing more and more erratic with my thrusts. Suddenly, unexpectedly, my orgasm washes over me in a powerful wave. I curl into his chest, rocking with pleasure. With one hand tangled in my hair and the other gripping my ass, Dominic thrusts hard and fast into me, his own orgasm right there.

When it’s all over, he cradles my still trembling body against his chest. His fingers play with my hair as his breathing slows.

I don’t want to jinx it . . . but I think we’re cuddling. And I’m pretty damn sure he’s allowing it.

I bury my nose in his neck, breathing him in and stretching my long legs against his until we’re tangled together. And then, to make matters worse, I feel the soft press of his lips on the top of my head: a kiss with no expectations. Just tenderness.

Damn. I squeeze my eyes closed. I’m falling so hard for you, you confusing-as-hell man.

I don’t want to think about the repercussions of that just yet. Instead, I welcome a deep, uninterrupted sleep wrapped in his strong arms.

• • •

The rest of our time in London is everything I wanted it to be. I sit in private meetings with him, now invited as a special guest. I consult with him after, weighing options and crunching numbers over mug after mug of tea.

I’ve learned more in four days of business boot camp than I did during four years of college, reading every textbook on the subject. On top of that, I’ve been exposed to how business works in a foreign country, specifically one known for its hotel industry. Being at Dominic’s side, I have access to every brilliant mind in the business.

We also have sex. Lots and lots of sex. An insane amount of sex. In our bed, in the shower, once in the massive tub, against the vanity . . . it really doesn’t take much to get him riled up.

Or me, for that matter. His sexual appetite turns me on, if I’m being honest. As soon as I see his eyes go dark and his lips part, I know exactly what his thoughts are. And he knows mine.

Knowing Dominic in this way has been so incredibly fulfilling. Sure, it’s just sex. That’s what Bianca would say. Yet I can’t help but feel the protective layer of my heart dissolve, allowing admiration to unfurl and blossom into honest affection. In those quiet moments between the soft kisses and dozing in his arms, I feel like I have a damn good chance at knowing all of him.

As long as he’ll let me.

• • •

Okay. I put the cart ahead of the horse again.

The hum of the plane’s engine would normally calm me, but I’m rigid and anxious. As soon as we boarded, I sensed yet another mood swing in Dominic. His profile is hard and cold as he types away at his laptop, utterly ignoring my presence. He’s back to business as usual, treating me as he would any colleague at work.

“I’ve got some emails to send,” he said as soon as he sat down. Before I could ask him what I could help with, he popped in his earbuds. Nice.

I order some wine from the flight attendant. His moodiness is getting really, really aggravating. Just this morning, we were fucking each other’s brains out in bed, literally one flesh. Now I’ve been given the millennial equivalent of talk to the hand.

I take a sip of my rosé, not at all caring that it’s early afternoon and hardly drinking hours. If I’m going to be yanked around like this, I’m going to need a little liquid courage.

What if I really like him? What does that mean for me? It’s not like I could suddenly squeeze into his life. He has zero time for another human being. And even if he did, he would be extremely particular about his choice in a partner. He has two children to raise, after all.

The mere thought of stepping into the role of mother makes me feel ill. I’m so young. I’m not ready to raise children. I barely consider myself an adult yet, and it’s been hard enough for me to help Michael out.

I have no idea what I’m doing, and Dominic certainly isn’t giving me any clues.

Well, that decides it. What happened in London will just have to stay in London. If he’s going to be cold and detached, then so will I. It’s better for my work anyway. I can finally utilize the tools I’ve acquired and actually make something of myself.

I can focus on me.