Chapter 15
15
KYLIE
T he moment I get back to my apartment, I close the door behind me and take a deep breath. My life feels like it’s spinning out of control. The constant twist and turns are giving me whiplash.
I didn’t know a kiss could feel like that. I touch my lips, still swollen from the way his mouth owned mine only six hours ago. I would have never thought someone like him would be interested in someone like me. It wasn’t even in the realm of possibilities. Sure, maybe he could objectively look at me and think I have a nice body, but to be so consumed with desire that he had to kiss me right there …
I feel my knees go weak, just thinking about it.
“You’re … back …” Benny smiles as he walks into the room. “Are … you … okay?”
I smile at him, then drop my bag and walk farther into our apartment. “I’m fine. Just exhausted from the trip. How was your weekend? Did you behave and follow my rules?”
I listen to him tell me about his weekend, although Angela and the private bodyguard already texted me to let me know. He listened to what I’d asked of him and stayed in the area. Plus, I texted him enough times for him to know I was serious.
We have a great relationship, so I wasn’t too worried about him lying to me. I have no idea how other parents do it. Is twelve too early to leave a kid alone for a weekend? Probably. Although he wasn’t entirely without some supervision. Still, I’m sure some people would roll their eyes and scoff at the mere idea of it.
But those people don’t realize how nice it must be to have family and friends around them to help. Or at the very least, to have money to spare for babysitters.
Despite how absolutely exhausted I am, Benny convinces me to have a game night. Not being able to afford cable for so long—something I just splurged on a week ago—I stocked up on board games.
There is no shortage of games in this place. We’ve kept ourselves entertained for hours, playing games together. He gets so into them that, sometimes, he even drops his stutter. It’s like he gets into such a carefree, relaxed state that the stutter disappears. I relish those moments when we feel like a normal family with no reminders of our circumstances.
“By the way, I signed a lease on a place in Greenwich the other day. Since our lease on this place is up this month, we are moving in two weeks,” I tell him as he sits to play a game of Monopoly.
His eyes light with excitement. I’m glad he’s happy because the idea of moving in two weeks is stressing me out. Luckily, we don’t own very much, so it won’t take long.
The next morning, I must have applied three rounds of deodorant when getting ready because of my nerves. I have no idea how to go in and face Lincoln today.
There are so many unanswered questions. Was it a one time kiss? Does he want to do it again? Does he want to do more? Does he want to date? Is he going to fire me? That last question had me applying the third round of deodorant.
Then the day somehow goes by without a spare second for me to even think about it. There are monthly budgets due, meeting notes to type out, schedules to readjust, and proposals to go over before making sure they get entered into the correct company template.
Even if I wanted to freak out and overanalyze, I wouldn’t have the time. But that doesn’t mean in the midst of it all, I haven’t noticed him strolling in and out of his office in his perfectly fitted suit. It doesn’t mean I haven’t had to pull my brain away from the thought of that kiss over and over again.
At one point, when I brought him his lunch, he was on the phone, but there was an unmistakable surge between us that only intensified when his eyes slowly caressed me, trailing down my body. He didn’t rush it, nor did he hide it. The temperature of the room skyrocketed, and I made a point of getting out of there immediately.
I hate that I have this reaction to just a look of appreciation from him. It’s like my brain knows he’s no good, but my body hasn’t gotten the memo.
Then the end of the day hits, and people start to file out. I’ve been tense all day, and I really just want to go home and relax, but I doubt he’s going to leave on time tonight.
It’s not until most people are gone that he buzzes me into his office. This is the first time today we are actually going to be alone in his office without either of us running around with a million things to do. My nerves kick into high gear. I wonder if he’s going to bring the kiss up.
I walk on shaky legs into his office. Our eyes meet across the room. He’s leaning back in his chair, his tie ditched and sleeves rolled up. His arms are crossed, and he’s looking at me intently.
“Close the door, Kylie,” he demands.
I follow his command, then walk farther into the office. “Yes, sir?”
He stands up and meets me halfway between his desk and the door. With every step he takes, my body starts to tremble more. I’m not sure whether it’s from nerves or excitement.
He’d better not kiss me. No, screw that. He’d BETTER kiss me. No, don’t be like that. You’re not like the other women who get swept away by his looks and money.
When he stops only inches from me, his thumb reaches up and runs along my jaw. My body breaks out into shivers.
“Do you have any idea how hard I’ve been trying to convince myself why touching you is stupid? I know it is, and yet”—his thumb runs along my bottom lip—“all I can think about is kissing you again. Of getting a taste of that sweet pussy.”
With his thumb on my lip, my jaw falls open. His words are crass, demeaning even, but my body responds by making my panties uncomfortably wet.
“You’re right. It is a bad idea,” I whisper, looking up at him through my lashes. “I don’t even like you.”
A slow, knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “I’m aware.”
But that doesn’t faze him. He leans his head down slowly, his eyes intent and determined. He leaves me no room to breathe or even think as his lips barely brush against mine. Panic sets in, as I’m reminded of just how different our pasts are.
“I’m a virgin,” I whisper against his lips.
His body freezes, his lips still touching mine, before he pulls away a fraction of an inch. “You’re … a virgin?”
I nod my head. He steps back until we are no longer touching, like my words physically pulled him away from me.
“How?” His eyes look me up and down. “Look at you.”
I roll my eyes. “While I appreciate you objectifying me, it has nothing to do with my looks.”
“Are you … religious?” he asks.
I walk toward the back of his office and look out at the view in an effort to get some space from the overwhelming feeling of having this conversation with someone like him, someone with so much … experience.
“Noooo,” I drawl out as I spin around and cross my arms. “Why?”
“So, you’re not waiting for marriage?” he says, taking a couple of steps in my direction.
“No, Lincoln, I’m not waiting for marriage. I’ve lived in a studio apartment with my brother, taking care of him, since I was sixteen. I’ve had no space or time for dating.”
He walks closer until he gets to the window and looks out while I face him. “What about now?” he asks.
“What about now?”
He looks at me. “Are you dating now?”
I laugh bitterly. “No, Lincoln, I’m not dating now.”
His eyebrows lift, as if he’s amused by me. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” I bite my bottom lip as I glance at the ground. “I just moved to a two-bedroom apartment last year. Until a couple of weeks ago, I hadn’t even …” I stop when I realize what I was about to reveal.
“Keep going,” he demands. “I won’t judge you for anything, Kylie.”
I don’t know what it is, but when I look into his eyes, it makes me feel comfortable enough to reveal my secrets. He already knows part of it anyway.
“I hadn’t even touched myself.”
His eyes close as he puts his hands in his pockets. “You told me yesterday that you’d touched yourself to thoughts of me …” he says in a strained voice.
When I don’t answer, his eyes open, and his gaze holds something that could burn through all my defenses.
“I did tell you that,” I reply.
I can see his hands ball into fists in his pockets, like he’s trying to restrain himself.
“Are you telling me that the first time you ever had an orgasm was to thoughts of me?”
It sounds dirty, coming out of his mouth. It leaves a burning desire in the pit of my stomach. I dip my chin slightly, my answer subtle but unmistakable.
His head falls back, revealing his Adam’s apple as he takes a pained breath. “You’re making it really hard for me to keep my hands off of you, Kylie.”
It suddenly dawns on me just how badly I want him to. Just the thought of walking out of this office without his touch leaves my body feeling cold and tense.
“Lincoln …” I whisper, waiting until he looks at me. “Touch me.”
My request hangs in the air between us. Panic rises in my chest as I brace myself for rejection.
His jaw clenches. “I’m not taking your virginity.”
I walk a step closer. “I’m not asking you to take my virginity. I’m asking you to touch me. Make me feel good. For years, I’ve deprived myself of anything I wanted so I could focus on my brother. I want something for myself now.”
I can see the glimmer of control he has left start to fade away.
He takes the final step to close the gap between us. “Say it again.”
“Touch m?—”
Before I can get the rest out, his lips descend onto mine.
It’s another searing kiss that leaves no room for anything but uninhibited desire. Our bodies collide as my hands reach for his neck and his go straight for my ass. He pulls me tight against him, and I feel the evidence of his arousal.
It’s the closest I’ve ever come to a dick before, and it has me gasping into his mouth. My gasp only fuels the fire. He presses me against the glass, and the kiss intensifies. Our mouths are molded together while his hands explore my body.
Each touch stokes a new flame in me. I’ve never felt so out of control before, but my body is useless. All it can do is feel right now.
As his tongue plays with mine, his hands move up to my breasts. He takes them in his palms and gives them a squeeze. Then he pulls away, and we are both left panting. He slowly starts to unbutton my blouse as we both watch in suspense. He stops when he’s halfway down and pulls the top open, revealing my breasts in my white lace bra.
I hear the hitch of his breath.
“Fuck, you’re so damn beautiful. You want me to touch you, Kylie?” he asks.
I look up at him and nod my head eagerly. “Yes.”
“First, I want you to show me how you touched yourself when you thought of me.”
My eyes open wide, shock taking over. “Y-y-y-you what?”
“I want you on my desk, showing me exactly what you did to get yourself off for the first time.” He steps closer and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “The idea of your first orgasm belonging to me in a way makes me so damn hard.”
I look down at the front of his pants, where the evidence is right there. I don’t want this to stop. My body needs a release, and it really wants to know what one from this man feels like. I walk to his desk with as much confidence as I can muster.
I lean back on his desk as he sits down in his chair. His hands reach behind my skirt and unzip the back. He really doesn’t like to break eye contact with me. Our eyes are always locked on one another, like he’s gauging my reaction. Then he tucks his fingers inside the waist of my skirt and tugs it down.
I gasp as my head spins around and looks out the windows into the office.
“I have the frosted glass on. We can see out, but nobody can see in,” he says quickly.
“Okay,” I exhale with relief.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly.
The concern in his voice makes me feel comfortable enough to continue.
“Yes,” I reply, then shimmy onto his desk.
He scoots his chair closer, then grabs my legs and places my feet on the armrests. My legs are spread open to him. The only thing between him and seeing my pussy is my white panties.
I settle back on my hands while my gaze falls on how his hands move along my legs—powerful and calculated but still gentle in their touch. He runs them up the inside of my thighs and stops at my hips. Every nerve is alive in my body, waiting in anticipation for what he might do next.
His thumb starts to rub the inner part of my thigh that meets my panties before slowly disappearing into them. I gasp as it brushes against my clit, my ass leaving the desk without my permission.
He smirks at my reaction. “I love a woman who’s responsive. Do you like how it feels, having my thumb on your clit?”
“I do,” I answer.
He puts more pressure on my clit, and it makes my pussy throb. I didn’t know such a simple movement could feel so good.
“Before I continue”—he pulls his hand out of my panties and leans back in his chair, and I whimper at the loss of his touch—“I want to see you touch yourself.”
I’m now so desperate to feel that heady sensation again that any embarrassment I had of him watching is out the window. Especially when I glance down and see his hard length straining through his pants. I can’t believe I’m the reason such a powerful man—a man who can have any woman he wants—is reacting that way.
With one hand behind me on the desk, I slide the other one inside my panties and use the tips of my fingers to pick up where he left off. It’s wild how much better it felt when it was his thumb on me. Still, I show him how I touched myself when I thought of him.
His eyes are locked on my hand as it moves slowly over me.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. It’s so unlike me, yet I’ve never felt so empowered before.
“Pull your panties to the side. I need to see your pussy,” he says as his hands clutch his thighs.
I wonder if he’s trying not to touch me … or himself. He has a tortured look on his face.
I oblige, and he lets out a groan in response.
“Fuck, look at that pussy. It’s glistening. Did you finger yourself at all when you thought of me?”
I shake my head. It never occurred to me to do that. I was too lost in how good it felt just to massage my clit.
“Are you telling me you’ve never had anything in that virgin pussy of yours? Not even a finger?”
I confirm his suspicions as my fingers still work circles on myself, the sensations getting more intense with how dirty his words are.
“Fuuuck,” he responds like he’s in pain. He stands from his chair and places his hands on his desk, caging me in. With his lips a breath away from mine, he whispers, “My finger is going to be the first thing your pussy feels, baby. Do you know how hard that makes me?”
I don’t answer, thinking that must be more of a rhetorical question. Then his lips touch mine, and I’m completely lost to this man. My brain malfunctions when he kisses me. All I’m capable of doing is feeling.
His hands move to my back, where he moves them up and down in an almost-soothing manner. It feels like he’s trying to convey to me that he’s going to take care of me. Then he breaks our kiss and pulls away. His eyes remain on me while he places his thumb back on my clit.
“Just lie back and relax,” he demands. “Let me make you feel good.”
Instead of fighting him on his bossiness, which I would normally do, I lean back again. We both watch in awe as his thumb dips down to my pussy, then moves back to my clit. His thumb glides along my clit easier now with my arousal all over.
Then he drops to his knees and pushes me so I’m leaning further back and he has better access to me. With each thumb, he spreads me apart. I watch him lick his lips, like he’s salivating at the sight of me exposed to him.
“Fucking perfect,” he says under his breath before he takes his pointer finger and runs it up and down my pussy.
He moves it around my clit a couple of times before he brings it back to my opening and pushes the tip in. He looks up at me before pushing all the way in. The invasion is shocking and has me gasping at the foreign sensations running through me.
His lips part as he holds his finger in place, giving me time to adjust to it. The sheer hunger on his face is magnetic. He pulls it out slowly, then pushes it back in again, this time a bit harder.
“Ahhh,” I cry.
“Did that hurt?” he asks with so much concern that I need to erase it from my memory so I don’t end up thinking he’s a good guy.
I shake my head. “No,” I breathe. “It felt … amazing.”
He smiles. “I haven’t even gotten started yet.”
He continues to move his finger in and out of me several times before he tells me he’s going to add a second finger. I have to adjust to it again, but it doesn’t take long before he’s moving them again and I’m a withering mess.
Just when I think nothing can feel better, he leans down without warning and lightly runs his tongue along my clit.
“Ohhh,” I moan at the brief touch.
“You want more of that, Kylie?” he asks smugly.
I nod my head quickly. If that’s what it feels like to have a tongue on me, I want more, and I want it now. He chuckles at my eager response. Then he does it again but with a little more pressure. The feeling is indescribable. The nerves there are so sensitive right now that he barely has to touch me and it generates so much pleasure.
He places his lips completely against me and starts to wiggle his tongue back and forth with a speed that seems unusually fast.
“HOLY. SHIT!” I scream. “Oh God. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
He doesn’t miss a beat, just keeps licking and flicking while his fingers drive into me, making me go higher and higher until I’m screaming his name as the most powerful orgasm—not that I have much to compare it to—takes over.
I’m in another world, another dimension, as the shock waves keep going. And he doesn’t stop until I’m totally spent and my body goes limp. My chest is rising and falling rapidly as I watch him stand up and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Once the moment passes, I realize that I’m sitting on my boss’s desk with my legs spread wide open. I close them immediately and work quickly to get off of his desk and get decent again.
He watches me intensely the entire time. I can tell something is on his mind.
As I zip the back of my skirt, I break the silence. “You want to say something.”
He pulls on the back of his neck. “I just …” He stumbles over his words and looks at the ground. “I just … I want to make sure we …”
I raise my eyebrows as I wait for him to spit it out. “Yes?”
“That you know what this is. I don’t do relationships. I could never be the kind of man you would want to date.”
I laugh at the mere idea of dating him. “I know. I set up your dates and send them flowers the next day. Trust me, I get it.”
I think I see a flash of hurt on his face before he recovers and straightens his spine.
“Okay. Good. It’s not that it wasn’t incredible. You’re very beautiful. I just don’t want you to confuse this for something that it isn’t.”
“And what is this exactly?” I ask.
He shrugs his shoulders. “Just two people who are attracted to each other, giving in to their urges. We’re both adults. It doesn’t have to mean anything. But I’m not taking your virginity. You should save that for someone special.”
He’s right. He is the last person I should want to give my virginity to. So, why did I get a heavy, sinking feeling in my chest just now?