6. Laila
6
LAILA
My first instinct is to cower against my seat and figure out how to buy myself more time. But the look in Arsen’s eyes says he’s been generous enough already. “More time” isn’t something he’s inclined to give.
He crooks a finger at me without saying a word. Like he’s pulling on my puppet strings, I rise. The muscles in my legs tremble, the butterflies in my stomach are butterflying, and heinous things are happening between my thighs.
But Arsen’s crooked finger says, Stand up.
So I obey.
“We’re doing this… here?” His office is nice, free of the moldy water stains and tap-dancing upstairs neighbors I’m used to at home, but it’s not exactly romantic. I’m tempted to ask if he has a candle.
Or maybe a tranquilizer.
I mean, I’ve already consented; do I really have to remember it, too?
“My office is where I conduct all of my business.” He undoes his top button, giving me my first peek of what I’m sure is a marvelously sculpted chest. “And this is business.”
“Right.” I tug at the silk tie of my blouse. If he’s getting undressed, I should get undressed, too, I think? Like he said, this is business. Just your standard, run-of-the-mill sex-for-business-purposes.
Nothing to be nervous about here.
Just business.
Arsen catches my hand before I can pull the silk free and brushes my fingers aside. “Let me.”
“I can do it,” I squeak. “There are a lot of snaps and zippers. It’s complicated. It’ll be faster if I?—”
“I don’t need it to be fast.” He tugs on the tie and flicks open the first few buttons with practiced ease. His green eyes watch my shirt spill open like he’s actually transfixed. “I need this to work. And besides—I like doing the undressing.”
I’m not sure what he means until his eyes flick down to his own body… to the bulge pressing against the front of his tailored pants.
Oh.
My face is on fire as I bite my lower lip and cast my gaze to the ceiling. This may be a business transaction, but his erection is his business.
Soon enough, it’ll be in my business, but I don’t need to gawk.
“That makes sense. Can’t make a baby without that.” I point in the general direction of his pants and my hand brushes something hard. And long. I yank my hand back like his penis might bite. “Oh God, I’m—I’m sorry.”
Have some class, Laila. What is this, your first time having sex with your boss for business-oriented procreation? Jeez, get a grip.
Arsen continues unbuttoning my shirt. “Don’t be.”
His hand slips around my waist, pulling me against his body so I feel every inch of him hard against my stomach. It’s a preview of how we’ll fit together, and as heat surges through me, I decide maybe I don’t want to be unconscious for this part of the business meeting after all.
Arsen runs his hand down my neck, peeling my blouse open until my ratty cotton bra is visible. Novels could be written on why, on today of all days, I chose to wear my least-flattering undergarments.
If he needed a sign that I didn’t think this would actually happen, this bra is it. It’s lumpy and misshapen and I had to remove the underwire last week when it tried to shiv me between the ribs during one of Mom’s doctor’s appointments, so there’s no support to speak of.
But Arsen trails his fingers over my collarbones and lower, curving over the slope of my breasts until his palm is pressed over my racing heart. I glance down to make sure my heart isn’t really breaking through my chest, and I see a flash of gold.
His wedding band.
Immediate guilt crawls up my throat, and words I don’t mean to say shoot out of my mouth. “Your wife.”
I don’t know why I say it. Maybe just to remind him he has one—in case he forgot. I certainly did there for a second.
But Arsen yanks his hand back like I electrocuted him. “If you’re looking for the fastest way to kill my erection, roza , you found it.”
“Won’t she be upset that we’re…?” I gesture to the miniscule space between our bodies. “I mean, we have to do this, but we don’t have to do it like this . It doesn’t have to be…”
Sexually charged. Erotic as hell. Panty-meltingly hot.
I can’t even finish the sentence. The fear that this isn’t any of those things for him is far too real.
He bends low, his deep voice a rumble in my ear. “It’ll be more successful if we both enjoy it.”
I lick my lips. “Successful… sure. Business.”
If I keep saying it, maybe my body will get on board. Maybe my legs will stop shaking and my heart can stop overreacting. Arsen isn’t doing this because he wants to; it’s a transaction. I’m here for the money, not him.
For Mom.
Suddenly, Arsen spins me around so my hips are pressed against his desk. I can see the city below—people so tiny they look like ants, cars zipping by with no idea what’s happening thirty floors above them.
Strong hands bunch my skirt above my waist, and I stare at the traffic as cool air hits the back of my thighs.
This is normal . I signed a contract. We’re being professional.
Arsen’s hand strokes over my ass. What my bra lacks, I made up for with a pair of black lace panties. I was annoyed they were the last clean pair in my drawer, but maybe Lady Luck was finally shining down on me, after all.
“I’ll take these,” Arsen remarks.
Before I can understand what he means, there’s a sharp tug. And a rip.
I look over my shoulder just as Arsen is sliding something black into his front pocket. “Did you just…?”
“Something to remember our deal by,” he explains with a smirk.
“Who would have a hard time remembering this?”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize I might not be the first woman he’s bent over this desk.
Like his brain is on the same wavelength as mine, he strokes a hand over my ass. “Has it really been two years since a man last touched you?”
“That’s what I told you when I signed the contract. I wouldn’t lie.”
No matter how badly I wanted to.
“Then we need to make sure you’re ready.”
Even as he presses me down onto the desk and drops to his knees behind me, I don’t know what he means. I’m naked from the waist down and bent over a desk. How much more ready could a girl be?
Then Arsen presses a kiss between my legs.
I jolt, too surprised to even make a noise. That quickly changes when his kiss becomes a long, stroking lick, and I let out a pitiful cry. “Wh-wh— Fuck— What are you doing?”
“I told you,” he growls, his breath hot against my skin. “We have a higher chance of success if you’re enjoying yourself.”
Before I can tell him that I might not be enjoying myself—I mean, between the racing heart, the shakes, and the foggy head, I might actually be dying, for all we know—he presses his tongue inside of me.
And I moan.
Like, moan.
I’ve never been very vocal during sex, and the sad state of my living situation means I’d sooner hurl myself from the fire escape than have my mom know what is happening behind closed doors.
But you couldn’t muzzle me with a steel freaking cage right now.
I grip the edge of Arsen’s desk and cry out again and again as he eats me out like I’m his last meal. Several of his files flutter to the floor as he tastes and teases me. Our contract might even be amongst them.
Not that it matters now. What he’s doing between my legs feels far more official than scribbling my name at the bottom of a page.
The pressure building at my core releases all at once, and I melt with it. I go limp against his desk while wave after wave rocks through me.
I come back to consciousness an eternity later, panting with my tongue lolling between my lips as feeling slowly returns to my lower half.
I almost forget Arsen is here at all until I hear a zipper.
“I’ll go slowly,” he assures me, stroking himself along my skin in a way that has me trembling all over again.
He did all of that without even being inside of me.
How am I going to survive the next part?
There isn’t time to consider my options before he grips my hips and lines himself up with my opening. Slowly, so slowly , he fills me, and I can’t see. Can’t breathe.
A gasp is caught in my throat as I stretch around him.
And stretch.
And stretch.
It’s too much, but then why am I pushing back against him? Why am I moving into him, craving more intimacy, more heat, more of him ?
Business. This is business.
Then Arsen pushes into me to the very hilt, and holy hell, this is— something. They haven’t invented the right word for it yet.
I don’t even realize I’m screaming until his hand clamps down over my mouth. “Quiet down, roza . We don’t want the whole company knowing what we’re doing, do we?”
The appropriate answer would be, No, of course we don’t .
The accurate answer is, I don’t give a damn right now .
He takes me in long, smooth strokes. He’s being gentle like he promised, but the foundations of my world are still shattered.
Why is it this good?
It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex, but it couldn’t have changed this much? It’s not like sex gets some annual update: Version 69.1, now with the ability to make her self-combust in raw lust with only one touch.
“Oh my—” I bite down on my tongue to keep something embarrassing from slipping out. I shift my hips against the desk, which is a mistake. Every thrust has me writhing, applying pressure right where I need it.
His fingers bite into my skin so hard I’m sure I’ll have bruises later, but I don’t care. “Am I hurting you?”
His voice is ragged, torn between pleasure and pain. Is there any possible way this is half as good for him as it is for me?
I shake my head. “No. No, I’m— This is really— I’m fine.”
I’m glorious. Transcendent, actually. The highlight reel of my year would be this moment on repeat again and again.
Which is too embarrassing for words. Paid sex shouldn’t be a highlight. But then Arsen presses into me harder, faster, and I decide, Fuck shame .
This is unbelievable.
I press onto my elbows, arching my back to take more of him. Arsen groans. All at once, he wraps a hand around my neck and pulls me back against his chest. He palms my breasts as he fills me again and again.
“Oh my God,” I moan, dropping my head back against his shoulder because I think my bones have liquified. The only reason I’m still standing is because of his hold on me.
“Tell me you’re close.” The words are hot against my neck. I think I feel his lips whisper a kiss over my pulse point, but I’m so far gone I can’t be sure.
I flutter around him, the beginnings of yet another orgasm building inside of me, and he growls. “Fuck, I can feel you, Laila.”
Those words. That deep, sexy voice.
It’s all it takes to send me over the edge.
“Arsen…!” I gasp, wanting him to know—for business purposes—that I’m coming. But I can’t get the rest of the words out.
My back bows with the force of my release. I press my head against his broad shoulder, and his hand forms a warm collar around my neck, pinning me in place as he slams into me again and again.
“Goddammit,” he grits out. “It’s almost over.”
Efficiency is usually a pro in business, but Arsen sounds… disappointed? Is that even possible?
Before I can dwell on it, his hand tightens on my throat and I feel him spasm. He pumps hard, spilling every bit of himself into the deepest parts of me.
It all felt so good that, for a second, I forgot what we were doing here. I forgot this was all so we could make a baby.
That’s why he wanted to make sure I enjoyed myself. Because it would increase our odds.
It’s why he ate me out and ruined me for any other man… because, contractually, he was obligated.
Arsen releases my neck, and I catch myself on the surface of his desk as he slides out of me.
Because we’re done.
This is over.
Business.
I quickly pull my skirt down, ignoring the warmth leaking down my thighs, and find my shirt. The moment I’ve got my blouse back on again, I turn to him. “Um… thanks. For that. And the, uh… opportunity.” I bite my bottom lip, too mortified to meet his eyes. “I’ll go, then?”
Go crawl in a hole and question my life choices, perhaps.
Or maybe go write down every detail of this so I can revisit it nightly for the rest of my life.
“I don’t think so.”
My gaze snaps to his, and Arsen’s green eyes are black. Predatory. He’s breathing heavily.
“You want me to stay…?” I whisper in half-hopeful, half-terrified confusion.
I hate that some part of me wants him to tell me how special this was for him. Not business, but something more.
That I’m something more.
Arsen doesn’t do any of that. He just grabs his keys from the drawer of his desk and gestures for me to follow him. “I’m not done with you yet, roza .”