It’s Just Business

My heart’s in my throat as the elevator climbs up the shaft. The doorman in the lobby said nothing, not even raising a brow as he scanned the panel for me and sent me on my way.

I’m still not sure if I’m doing the right thing, neither by running over here like I’m at Dylan’s beck and call, nor in what I chose to wear while doing it. But Maggie supported me when I told her my idea, helping me pick out an outfit. She even helped me knot the trench coat I borrowed from her closet, the remnant of an old Halloween costume of hers where she dressed as Carmen Sandiego. She’s ‘released me into the wilds’, as she called it when the car Dylan sent showed up.

The elevator slows, and the door dings before opening, revealing a short, almost perfunctory hallway in front of a set of ornate, all-black double doors. Stepping forward, I clear my throat, swallowing my fear as the elevator closes behind me.

Am I doing the right thing? Is this reckless? Am I going to regret it?

I don’t know, but I’m doing what every fiber of my body tells me I have to do. That I want to. That I want him. All night, during dinner, I felt like I was in the wrong place, that where I needed to be was in his arms.

Lifting a trembling fist, I go to knock on the door, but before I can, the doors swing open on silent hinges, revealing the foyer inside. He’s standing there, just on the edge of where the foyer becomes what looks like a short set of steps to an elevated living room, and the rest of the penthouse suite stretching out beyond.

Of course he’d live in the penthouse. But he looks like he’s exactly where he should be. I know that wasn’t always the case. I learned that from my research about how he became a self-made man, and Dylan’s alluded to rougher days in his past. But you’d never know it now. He’s perfectly at home surrounded by opulence. It suits him.

He looks powerful and knee-quakingly handsome. He’s dressed like he just got done at the office, his black suit pants tailored to his body, his shirt unbuttoned a few buttons to reveal his smooth, powerful chest, his sleeves rolled up, showing off the corded muscles of his forearms.

Holy hell. This man is bad for me in ways that feel too damn good.

“Mr. Sharpe,” I rasp, my legs quaking. We’re not at work, and there’s no one who might overhear us, but I use the professional name intentionally, nearly purring it. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too, Miss Hill.” There’s a hint of tease to his voice as he plays along with me, but mostly, what I hear is the barely disguised need in his words. It sends a shiver down my spine.

“What have you been up to?” I ask casually. As if this could be an everyday occurrence as I walk deeper into his suite and look around while he closes the door behind me.

“Killing time until I could fuck you again.”

I gasp, turning to meet his gaze. Hypnotized, I stand tall while his eyes grace over my body—my breasts, my hips, my exposed legs, and back up to my face. “What are you wearing?”

“This?” I say, reaching for the trench coat’s belt and undoing it. The coat falls open, revealing the lacy, red see-thru lingerie and thigh-high stockings I’m wearing underneath. As soon as I saw them in my dresser drawer, I knew they were all I wanted to wear. They’re the sexiest set I own. I look him in the eye, steeling my voice. “Or this?” I say, drawing my fingertip down the line of my cleavage.

“Fuck, Raven.” He barely breathes the words as his bottom lip drops down. “I need you.”

He steps forward, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles, his eyes burning with desire. I definitely chose the right outfit, and given the way Dylan’s looking at me, I made the correct choice in coming, too. His reaction, both to my body and my presence, is everything I hoped it would be.

“Then take me,” I say with soft smile.

He leads me through the living room and to the sweeping, curving stairs. All around me, I can sense wealth and luxury, but my eyes never leave Dylan as he guides me up the wide, shallow steps to the second floor, and then down a short hallway to an enormous bedroom that’s dominated by a massive king bed. Stopping at the foot of the bed, Dylan looks me up and down. “You’re beautiful, Darling,” he says, brushing a lock of my hair back over my shoulder.

“I need you too,” I tell him.

Dylan’s hand travels to my shoulder where he presses down, and I sink to my knees and reach for his belt. My mouth goes dry as I undo his belt and ease his zipper down, freeing the length of his thick cock. Looking up, I see that he dips his chin in permission, and I lean forward, licking him from root all the way to his tip, tasting his warm skin and coating him with my saliva, before worshiping Dylan’s cock with soft butterfly kisses around his head.

Dylan touches my jaw, and I open my mouth, staying very still as he takes my head in his hands and slowly feeds me his cock. Velvety steel fills my mouth, stretching my lips and pushing over my tongue. Reaching up, I roll his sac in my hand, weighing his balls and devoting everything to his pleasure as he invades my mouth, holding there for a moment before pulling back.

“I want you to touch yourself while I fuck these pretty lips of yours,” he says, his voice tight and hard. “When I come, you’re not going to swallow a single drop until I say so. Do you understand?”

“Mmm-hmm,” I moan around his cock, and Dylan jerks forward, touching the back of my throat with his crown.

“Do it, Raven. Touch yourself. Obey me.” There’s a darkness to him now, and I welcome it, wanting all of him—the powerful, domineering devil he thinks he is. And while I know he can be that, he’s also watchful and careful with me, pushing at my limits but respecting them. It makes me want to go further, just to prove to us both that I can.

I want to please him in all things. Personal and professional. And right now, sexual.

A warm tingle goes through me, and I do as ordered, reaching down between my legs to stroke my clit through my panties. I time my fingers with his thrusts, rubbing back and forth until I’m hot and wet and my clit is swollen and pressed electrically against the thin fabric.

Pulling my panties aside, I slide two fingers deep inside me, moaning around Dylan’s cock as he fucks my throat. My cheeks hollow out, my tongue working for one purpose and one purpose only, to please him. I run it everywhere, up the underside of his shaft, around the flared ridge of his head, even into his slit when he pulls back far enough.

All I want to do is make him feel good, to please him and hear him moan my name.

“That’s it… that’s it… good girl,” Dylan says as he speeds up. I open as wide as I can, letting him take me, my fingers squelching in the quiet bedroom. “So fucking good….” He pauses at the back of my throat, testing my gag reflex. “So fucking beautiful…” He does it again, and I whimper. “So fucking mine.” He stays there this time, giving me shallow thrusts as he holds himself right at the edge of what I can take.

I am his. I realize it, and I know that he’s claimed my body in a way no man ever has before. I’ve never given in like this to any man, but with him, I want to do it all.

My pussy’s in need, my thumb rubbing my clit to bring myself to the trembling edge. I’m helpless, the back of my head gripped in Dylan’s powerful hands as I try to get us both to the edge together. I want to come with him. I’m desperate to do so, moaning to draw him up higher and desperately strumming my clit. He can feel how desperate I am, and the bastard chuckles.

“You want me to come quickly, don’t you?” he asks.

I whimper, looking up at him with tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I nod, keeping him sucked into my mouth.

“You want my cum?” My brows furrow, the sense of deprivation overwhelming me—not of air, but of him. I want it, I want him, all of him.

He watches me closely. “Are you gonna take my cum like a good girl?”

I cry out, painfully on the cusp of coming without him as my pussy clenches. His answering grin is wicked. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me, driving me mad, making me crazed, but only for him.

He pulls back until just the head of his cock’s trapped between my lips as he uses two fingers to quickly pump his shaft. Groaning, he throws his head back as he starts coming, his sweet and salty seed coating my tongue and filling my mouth. At the same time, I stroke my clit again, moaning as I tip over the edge myself, coming around my fingers as he fills my mouth.

I want to swallow, I want to open my mouth and cry out, but Dylan told me not to spill a single drop. So I obey, my hips shaking and my thighs quivering until the wave passes and he’s spent. Pulling back, he smiles, tilting my chin up to look at him. “Open. Show me how good you are.”

I do, letting him see, and he pulls me to my feet, commanding me to swallow. Dylan lifts me, his hands digging into my ass as he turns and carries me to the bed, my arms around his neck as he kisses my neck and then my lips.

“You’re such a good little cocksucker,” Dylan praises me as he sets me on the bed. “My sweet Darling, my Raven.” Every word that falls off his tongue hits a new part of my brain, making all of me come alive in different ways until I feel like there’s an electrical surge jolting though my body. “Lie back, and hold your ankles for me.”

Dylan guides me to the bed’s surface. He slides my panties up my legs and off before I grab my ankles as he commanded.

He leans in and gives me a kiss before running a hand down my stocking-covered leg. “These fucking destroy me,” he hisses in the sexiest groan I’ve ever heard. “I want you to wear them every fucking day. At the office, when we go out, wherever. You wear stockings so I know this pussy is right there, ready for me to have it.” His gaze lingers between my legs, one hand still working his shaft.

“Fucking hell, Raven,” he groans and then stands up, shrugging off his shirt and dropping his pants the rest of the way down his legs. I’ve never seen him totally nude before. We’ve always had some type of clothing on, but seeing him like this takes my breath away. He’s formed perfectly, flesh that’s been sculpted by the hands of an artist, it feels like, and my pussy clenches with need as he kneels on the edge of the bed, his wolfish grin promising me total release.

He’s tasted me before, but this time, I have a close-up view as Dylan drags his tongue between my pussy lips and then up to kiss my lips quickly, slipping his tongue into my mouth. “Taste yourself,” he orders, and I kiss him back hungrily, sucking the tip of his tongue and getting my own sweet flavor in return.

Dylan’s eyes light up and flash with a primal hunger, and he goes back down between my legs. All the while, my heart races and my body hears.

He starts with wide, flat licks. He savors every inch of me, even licking a bit lower, playfully teasing me. I’ve never done anal, but if Dylan wanted it, I would try it.

He can have anything he wants, I realize. I’ve been so torn, asking myself if this is wise, worrying about what other people would think if they knew, and losing sleep over what Dylan feels about me when the truth is… none of it matters. I’m his. He’s said ‘mine’, and my hopeful heart has believed him, giving itself over fully to him.

My mind races with thoughts I shouldn’t be having.

The joy of what I’m feeling works through me almost as quickly as the pleasure Dylan’s masterfully forcing onto my body.

He goes back to my folds, snaking his tongue deep inside me, devouring my pussy before sucking on my lips until my eyes roll back and the back of my head digs into the mattress.

“Oh, my God,” I cry out, and he stops.

“No, my name only. Say my name,” he growls, looking up my body to pin me in his gaze.

“Yes, sir. Dylan, sir,” I tease breathily. I know what hearing me say that does to him, and I throw it back at him intentionally, wanting to push him the way he did me.

He smiles, his eyes flashing devilishly, and I wonder if I’m ready for whatever he’s going to do next.

He moves back to my pussy, his tongue circling around my core until he finds my clit with the tip of his tongue. Looking into my face, he watches my reaction as he tortures me, not with pain but pleasure. He pushes two fingers inside me, adding to the wondrous torment, and my entire soul writhes with need. It feels like it’s the entire world, pulsating and quivering under his complete control.

It’s all I’ve ever wanted, all I ever need, and more. As Dylan’s tongue moves faster and faster, his fingers working that spot inside me, I’m left panting, drawing in breath almost to immediately exhale, my body burning with desire for him.

As I fist the sheets and my back bows, I barely hear Dylan.

“Come for me, my darling Raven. Give me what’s mine,” he orders before fastening his mouth around my clit and sucking sharply. My body falls apart, unlocked by his claim and his command to release fully. I cry out loudly, writhing as an intense, sweeping orgasm cascades through my body.

Dylan stays there, watching me toss my head from side to side, letting me ride every bit of my pleasure before he kisses his way up my body, trailing up my stomach until he reaches my bra. He unclips it, letting it fall aside to suckle on my right nipple.

Letting go of my ankles, I run my hands through his hair, arching my back to give him more and wrapping my legs around his waist. My stockinged legs slide against his lean midsection but still keep me open and available to him.

Dylan releases my nipple to kiss up to my lips, which he captures once more as his hard cock presses against my warmth. He pins my wrists above my head and slides all the way into me until I can take no more and whimper in fullness.

He breaks our kiss to ask, “Who do you belong to, Darling?”

“You,” I respond, and I’m rewarded with a deep, quick thrust that makes the world spin.

“Say it.”

“I belong to you,” I affirm, and he rewards me with another thrust. “Fuck… please, Dylan, I’m yours.”

“Only mine,” he murmurs as he fucks me ruthlessly, taking me like he owns me.

There’s a fresh desperation to his words, like he thinks I’m going to leave him. But I’m realizing there is no leaving Dylan Sharpe. Ever. I am ruined for anyone else. I’m his, and his alone.

My heart thumps in a way that slows time.

“What are you?” he asks, and I look into his eyes to see what he wants me to say.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

I know, but I don’t give it to him. Not yet.

“I’m your newest associate,” I reply, squeezing my pussy around his cock with a teasing smile. “I’m the best talent you’ve ever hired.” My lips are swollen and my breath is still coming in pants, but I tease him. He groans as though my disobedience is turning him on. I drop my voice, whispering hotly, “I’m also your sweet, dirty, naughty slut who spends every minute she’s not making you money thinking about one thing and one thing only. Fucking you senseless.”

I expect him to unleash on me, the power of the filthy words driving him wild.

“You make me so fucking happy,” Dylan says, kissing me hard and thrusting deep inside me.

I gasp, at both the sweetness of what he just shared and the feeling of him filling and stretching me to the brink of near pain until it mixes with the divine pleasure.

The sensation of his fucking me with powerful strokes erases all thoughts from my mind. I hold onto him, crying out my pleasure.

There’s no need for words. They’re not intense enough as Dylan’s hips rise and fall, his cock hammering into my eager, willing body. We say all we need to in our touch, in the way his chest presses against mine and his hands tighten on my crossed wrists. I say it in the way my legs lock around his waist, my stockinged thighs squeezing him, urging him to fuck me harder, deeper, longer.

Time evaporates, replaced with lust. Thoughts melt, replaced with feeling. And as my third release builds into a tremendous tidal wave of bliss, the only things left are Dylan and the desire to be like this with him… forever.

He groans his release, and I’m there with him, our bodies thrumming with the shattering of our coming together. I hold him there, both of us frozen until we collapse, Dylan falling to the side and rolling with me to avoid hurting me.

I notice… and in that moment, I become his all the more. I don’t know when I fell, exactly, but I’m in love with him. As my heart settles, I know I have fallen for him.

Lying in his arms, my pulse still rushes through my veins, the sweat cooling on my skin as we come down from what just happened.

“Are you okay?” Dylan asks me, and I nod, kissing his chest and unable to admit aloud the thought I just had.

We lie like that, both lost in our thoughts. Tonight was big, probably the biggest leap forward we’ve had, and I think we both need some time to sit with that. Or at least I do, because now that I’m not chasing an orgasm, I can feel that something major has shifted.

“I should go home,” I whisper, not wanting to but knowing it’s probably the right thing to do.

“Stay,” he counters.

I try to imagine what that looks like and gasp. “I am not doing the walk of shame tomorrow morning in a cheap red trench coat. My neighbors would never look at me the same way again.”

He shrugs, unconcerned. “I can have clothes sent up for you.”

I push up to stare at him in shock. That thought would never occur to me. Just ‘have clothes sent’? Who does that?

Dylan Sharpe does.

I laugh. “No, I don’t want you to do that,” I confess. “I kind of like the idea of a naughty rendezvous in a skimpy outfit and sneaking out before the sun rises. It’s a bit wild for me, like a scene from a cheesy movie.”

He looks up at me, laughter teasing across his twitching lips. “Don’t ruin it for me. I’ll look better tonight than I will in the morning.”

At that, he does laugh. “Okay, if you want to go, I understand. I think I might actually get some sleep tonight, which I didn’t think I’d be able to do.”

“Why?” I ask.

A shadow passes through his eyes and he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter because you’ve worn me out.” He looks at me in wonder, like he’s not quite sure how I did that. “Let me show you to the bathroom so you can clean up.”

The bed groans as he helps me from the bed, leading me to a private bathroom that’s as luxurious as I expected it to be, with a huge shower the size of my bedroom, a long double vanity I give a side eye to, wondering which sink he uses, and a tub I could nearly swim in. He gives me privacy, and I clean up quickly.

Back in the bedroom, he holds out a long-sleeve T-shirt. “Does it ruin it if you wear my shirt under the trench coat? It’s chilly outside.”

I smirk, letting him pull the shirt over my head and settle it down my thighs. Every time his skin brushes mine, something races through me. He’s gotten dressed too, in a similar T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. I look between us, taking a mental snapshot of the moment.

My heart does that thing again, and I wish it wouldn’t.

He leads me back downstairs, out the front door, and to the elevator. As we descend, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small tag that looks a lot like an AirTag. “Here. For your keychain.”

“What is it?” I ask, and he points to the sensor panel on the elevator. “Really?”

“It won’t open my front door, so you can’t sneak in to surprise me in the shower,” he jokes, tilting his head as if considering the merits of that idea, and I laugh softly. It’s not a front door key, but it’s a big deal, especially to a man like him who has to protect himself from virtually everyone and everything.

We get to the lobby, where I find a taxi waiting for me.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Mr. Sharpe,” I say in my most professional voice, teasing him with a tilt of my head.

“Anytime, Miss Hill. I’ll see you Monday, then?” he says. He doesn’t feign appropriateness. His voice promises he’s going to see all of me on Monday, and I climb into the taxi, not knowing how I fell for him but afraid of what happens if it’s entirely one-sided.