We pull up in front of a boutique hotel in TriBeCa and Bruce helps me out of the car, his hand returning to that sensitive spot on my lower back, before leading me inside. The lobby is swanky, with colorful, jewel-toned couches, a mahogany reception desk, and low, elegant lighting.
The concierge nods at Bruce, and my date leads me to the elevator bank. By the time we reach the penthouse floor, I’m trembling with anticipation. It’s all I can do not to swoon as the gorgeous man unlocks a door before sweeping it open to reveal an enormous suite. There are double-height windows in the living room, beige couches strewn about, as well as a full kitchen off to the side.
“Wow,” I breathe. I can’t help but stare as I take it all in; my background is what you would call modest, and although my parents do alright for themselves, this is a level of luxury that I’ve only ever seen in the movies.
“You like it?” Bruce growls, and I turn to see him eyeing me with a knowing, amused smile.
“This place is amazing,” I reply, sure my eyes are as wide as dinner plates. “What did you say you do for work, again?”
“I didn’t,” he replies, and that smirk returns, stronger than ever. I briefly wonder why he’s being so vague about everything, and the possibility of him being a mob boss crosses my mind, but for some reason, it doesn’t scare me as much as it should. There’s already a dangerous allure to this man, and it only adds fuel to the fire.
Bruce shrugs out of his suit jacket and tosses it onto the sofa. Through his dress shirt, I can sense bronzed, sculpted muscles, and a rush of warmth floods the space between my legs. “Should we have a drink?” I stammer.
Bruce shakes his head. “I prefer to do things with my senses intact,” he growls in a low voice. “That way, I don’t miss out on any details.”
I smile weakly.
“Well,” I murmur. “Then what now?”
There’s that smirk again, and the next thing I know, he’s closing the distance between us with brisk strides. The powerful man pulls me to his strong frame and before I know it, his lips are on mine, devouring me like a starving beast. The kiss is passionate, demanding, and everything I would expect from a domineering alpha male, and I all but melt into his arms as he pulls me closer, his tongue seeking entrance past my lips. I obediently open my mouth as he deepens the kiss, his body flush against mine, and I can feel a hardness pressing against my tummy, making me go weak in the knees. Oh god, am I ready for it? A fresh wave of heat courses through me as I tangle my fingers in his jet black hair, barely able to breathe by the time we separate, his teeth catching my lower lip as he pulls away. Bruce’s blue eyes search mine for a moment, and I can see the barely-restrained hunger in his expression.
“Do you-” I begin, but he cuts me off, one arm wrapping around my waist while the other pulls my legs up around his hips. I cling to him, locking my knees around his waist as he carries me out of the living room and into the bedroom, where he lays me down on a plush, king sized bed.
I watch, my heart pounding, as he strips his shirt off, exposing a muscular chest, and I can feel my face heating up again at the sight of him. I reach up to run my hands over his toned abs, marveling at how he resembles a Greek statue, and a knowing chuckle rumbles through his chest. “I want you,” I breathe, looking up into his brooding eyes.
“Good,” he rasps, his gaze never leaving mine, “because I’m about to show you how much I want you.”
The conviction in his words takes my breath away, and I instinctively squeeze my legs together as my arousal mounts. Who would have thought just hearing him speak would be enough to turn me on this much?
Then, Bruce is covering my body with his own, and I inhale sharply at his closeness. He’s massive and broad, and it takes my breath away. Leaning over my breasts, he presses his lips to my throat as his hands find their way under the hem of my dress. I’m already so wet that it’s almost shameful, and when his fingers slip under my panties to brush against my pussy, I feel him groan against my skin. “Fuck, Annemarie,” Bruce mutters. “You’re drenched.”
He bites down on my neck, the sensation making me shiver, as his finger circles my clit. I’m so wound up that even the delicate motion is enough to make a wave of pleasure course through me. I can’t help but buck against his hand, desperate for more friction, but he’s taking his sweet time, his free hand caressing my breast through the skin-tight fabric of my outfit. “Bruce,” I whine, wriggling against him as he continues his frustratingly slow movements.