The sensation of his lips on my nipple electrifies me, as does the scent of him tantalizing my nose as he sucks harder, moving from one breast to the other, swirling his tongue around the diamond-hard peaks.
A loud moan pours from my throat, and I cover my mouth quickly, suddenly aware people outside his office might hear me.
He stops his suckle and reaches for my hand.
“Don’t do that, Bonita.” He grins. “Scream if you want to.”
As soon as I hope I don’t do something as crazy as screaming, he crouches
down, lifts my leg, and buries his face between my thighs. His tongue pushes into my pussy, caressing my passage then swirling around my clit. Spirals of ecstasy flow through me likes a river, and any hope I had of not screaming fades. I arch into his wild suckle and scream as my orgasm takes over, assaulting my body.
As he drinks up my arousal, I grab his shoulders, digging my fingers into his rigid corded muscles, and allow pleasure to consume me.
He holds me there, suspended in that blissful state. As I climb down from the intense high, awareness rushes back to my mind again and I wonder what the hell is wrong with me.
I just met this guy. I’m not some slut. I’ve never even had a one-night stand, and while it might seem foolish to think it now, I’m not even the type to kiss on the first date.
Yet look at me. I’m a sweaty mess with my skin tingling as he continues to lick the last drops of arousal from my pussy.
Why did that feel so good? Why does it still feel so good?
When he strokes the side of my thigh in that smooth but dominating way and I melt in his arms even more, the answer hits me.
It felt good because he knows what he’s doing. He’s not like the boys I’ve been with in the past who just wanted to fuck me and get their hard-on fix.
This is a real man. A man who knows exactly what to do with a woman’s body. He knew exactly how to touch me.
It’s like he knew what I needed and gave it to me, but also made me lose control in a way that was terrifying.
As soon as the thought hits, he releases me and rises to his feet, resuming his former position with his hand resting above my head.
We’re eye to eye again, and I barely breathe.
He looks unfazed, with barely any difference to his expression, while he’s left me feeling like my head’s spinning backwards and everything inside me might implode.
“Your six-month trial starts tomorrow,” he husks.
“Tomorrow?”
“That okay with you, Bonita?”
“Yes.”
I got the job.
My heart starts galloping again and it takes me a moment to process. I actually got the job.
“Leave the address of where you’re staying with my secretary and make sure you sign all the paperwork she gives you. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll send a car to pick you up tomorrow at nine. We’ll take it from there.”
“Thank you.”
“No, Lucia.” He touches my cheek and lingers for a beat. “Thank you.”