Read Online Entry-Level Mistress by Sabrina Darby - Free Book Online
Authors: Sabrina Darby
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elevators. I didn’t look to see if anyone watched my progress. I didn’t want to know.
The thirtieth floor was dim and empty, only the emergency lights making anything visible. I turned to the right, east, down the hall.
“Emily.” I heard my whispered name at the same time that I felt his heat, that he pulled me into the conference room and into his embrace. I didn’t have a chance to respond because his lips were on mine and my only thought was to meet his kisses with my own.
I wore a cotton tank beneath my cardigan, and beneath that his hand roamed, caressed my breast through the thin cup of a cotton bra. Every touch burned, sharply exquisite.
“I couldn’t wait another minute,” he whispered against my ear before tugging on the sensitive lobe with his teeth. So this, then, was the work.
“Convenient I happened to be in the same building.”
As he laughed, I gave into the idea, enjoyed it. I stepped back from him. To my left I could see the rooftops of Boston through the glass window. Could anyone in those other tall buildings nearby see us here in this half-darkness?
Not that anyone else mattered because Daniel was watching me, wanting me, and I wanted him. I shimmied my a-line skirt up just enough to reach for my panties. I slid them down, letting the skirt fall back into place. Then I dangled the skimpy cotton from my finger.
I loved seeing that tight, controlled expression on his face, the one that revealed all the passion he held back, that I’d feel when he thrust into me.
I let the bit of fabric drop, took a step toward him. He strode forward, wrapped me in his arms in that dizzying way that made me unaware of anything but him and his touch. He used the wall as leverage, held me up against it as he delved beneath my skirt and stroked between my thighs. He slid a finger into me and I moaned, forgetting to be quiet. He knew exactly how to touch me, the right pattern, rhythm, everything. I climaxed under his touch and while I was still crying out, trembling with the release, he covered himself and thrust deep within me, reaching for his own.
• • •
Cool air struck my skin as he moved away. My weight my own again, I leaned heavily against the wall. Tugging down my skirt, straightening my sweater, I looked out toward the window and tried to gather my thoughts, to understand the wave of emotions now buffeting me. But in the wake of sex, my mind was a wasteland of sexual satisfaction. “So … ”
I listened to his footsteps as he crossed the carpet. He knelt down in front of me, holding my flimsy little panties, pink with a lacy trim. I stared down at the top of his head, at the beautiful waves of his hair, as I lifted my legs one at a time. He slid the fabric up, kissed the inside of my knee. What the hell were we doing?
“Is this going to be a habit?” I asked.
He kissed an inch further up my bare thigh. Was he buying time? Trying to formulate just the right response? I had questions I wanted to ask him. Bold, honest questions that would cut to the quick of our past and our present. But I held my tongue, terrified at the idea. What if he said something that made it impossible for me to stay?
“Yes,” he said softly, his lips moving against my skin.
He stood and leaned closer, slowly stroking my neck. I leaned into his hand.
“And if I text you? Will you come running?”
Again, he hesitated, studying my face, running a thumb along the line of my jaw. What did he see in my expression? His was like a mask.
“I doubt it,” he said finally.
“And?” I prodded.
“You’re coming home with me tonight.”
My stomach clenched at his tone, tight with desire. Yes, I wanted that, but could I continue to let him have his way so easily? Get away with his arrogant admissions? I lifted my chin, raised an eyebrow.
“So this, it’s going to happen your way, everything? You text. I run. You pick me up, drop me off … ”
“I like the way that sounds,” he agreed, a small
The thirtieth floor was dim and empty, only the emergency lights making anything visible. I turned to the right, east, down the hall.
“Emily.” I heard my whispered name at the same time that I felt his heat, that he pulled me into the conference room and into his embrace. I didn’t have a chance to respond because his lips were on mine and my only thought was to meet his kisses with my own.
I wore a cotton tank beneath my cardigan, and beneath that his hand roamed, caressed my breast through the thin cup of a cotton bra. Every touch burned, sharply exquisite.
“I couldn’t wait another minute,” he whispered against my ear before tugging on the sensitive lobe with his teeth. So this, then, was the work.
“Convenient I happened to be in the same building.”
As he laughed, I gave into the idea, enjoyed it. I stepped back from him. To my left I could see the rooftops of Boston through the glass window. Could anyone in those other tall buildings nearby see us here in this half-darkness?
Not that anyone else mattered because Daniel was watching me, wanting me, and I wanted him. I shimmied my a-line skirt up just enough to reach for my panties. I slid them down, letting the skirt fall back into place. Then I dangled the skimpy cotton from my finger.
I loved seeing that tight, controlled expression on his face, the one that revealed all the passion he held back, that I’d feel when he thrust into me.
I let the bit of fabric drop, took a step toward him. He strode forward, wrapped me in his arms in that dizzying way that made me unaware of anything but him and his touch. He used the wall as leverage, held me up against it as he delved beneath my skirt and stroked between my thighs. He slid a finger into me and I moaned, forgetting to be quiet. He knew exactly how to touch me, the right pattern, rhythm, everything. I climaxed under his touch and while I was still crying out, trembling with the release, he covered himself and thrust deep within me, reaching for his own.
• • •
Cool air struck my skin as he moved away. My weight my own again, I leaned heavily against the wall. Tugging down my skirt, straightening my sweater, I looked out toward the window and tried to gather my thoughts, to understand the wave of emotions now buffeting me. But in the wake of sex, my mind was a wasteland of sexual satisfaction. “So … ”
I listened to his footsteps as he crossed the carpet. He knelt down in front of me, holding my flimsy little panties, pink with a lacy trim. I stared down at the top of his head, at the beautiful waves of his hair, as I lifted my legs one at a time. He slid the fabric up, kissed the inside of my knee. What the hell were we doing?
“Is this going to be a habit?” I asked.
He kissed an inch further up my bare thigh. Was he buying time? Trying to formulate just the right response? I had questions I wanted to ask him. Bold, honest questions that would cut to the quick of our past and our present. But I held my tongue, terrified at the idea. What if he said something that made it impossible for me to stay?
“Yes,” he said softly, his lips moving against my skin.
He stood and leaned closer, slowly stroking my neck. I leaned into his hand.
“And if I text you? Will you come running?”
Again, he hesitated, studying my face, running a thumb along the line of my jaw. What did he see in my expression? His was like a mask.
“I doubt it,” he said finally.
“And?” I prodded.
“You’re coming home with me tonight.”
My stomach clenched at his tone, tight with desire. Yes, I wanted that, but could I continue to let him have his way so easily? Get away with his arrogant admissions? I lifted my chin, raised an eyebrow.
“So this, it’s going to happen your way, everything? You text. I run. You pick me up, drop me off … ”
“I like the way that sounds,” he agreed, a small
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