Chapter 2
O f course, he has a room here.
And not just any room—the best room.
The elevator glides to a smooth stop, the soft chime barely cutting through the thick tension stretching between us. The top floor. A private suite that likely costs more per night than most people make in a month.
The doors slide open, revealing a short hallway with only one entrance—his.
He presses a key card to the panel, the lock clicking open with quiet finality. I step inside, the lights flickering on automatically, bathing the space in a soft, golden glow.
And God help me—the suite is breathtaking.
Luxury incarnate.
Floor-to-ceiling windows showcase the glittering skyline of New York, the city stretching endlessly beneath us. The interior is sleek and modern but warm—polished marble floors, a sunken living room with deep, plush furniture, an open fireplace casting flickering shadows against the walls.
A place built for power. For men who own the world and have nothing left to prove.
I barely have a chance to take it all in before his hand presses against the small of my back.
Warm. Commanding. Just enough pressure to remind me I’m his to guide.
“This way, Trouble.”
There is a slight smile in his tone, clearly enjoying this.
I let him lead me deeper inside—past the opulent living space, past the imported-whiskey collection on display at the private bar, past the heavy curtains swaying slightly from the night breeze slipping through a barely cracked window.
We reach the bedroom, and it’s just as decadent. Dark. Masculine. Low lighting spills across crisp, expensive sheets—the kind soft enough to make you forget you’re sleeping alone.
But neither of us will be alone tonight.
No more conversation. No more games.
We both know what we want.
Each other.
His fingertips trail up my arm—featherlight—like he’s memorizing the shape of me before he takes me apart.
I shiver, but it’s not from cold.
It’s the way his breath ghosts against my temple. The way his body radiates heat behind me.
I close my eyes as his lips brush against my shoulder—barely a kiss. More of a test.
“You’re mine for the night.”
His mouth moves higher, skimming up the side of my neck, slow and deliberate, until his lips are just beneath my ear.
I exhale—a shaky breath that betrays me.
He smirks against my skin, wrapping his arms around me from behind, his hands smoothing over my stomach, pulling me flush against his chest.
The scent of whiskey, cedarwood, and something distinctly him envelops me.
“Unless you’d like to leave, Trouble,” he murmurs, his voice low, a deep vibration against my back. “Now’s your chance.”
A part of me knows I should. I should walk away now, slip out of this opulent suite, and return to my carefully controlled world. The one where I call the shots. Where I decide who gets to touch me and under what terms.
That world is safe. Predictable.
This?
This is unknown.
He’s unknown.
Men like him—sharp, unreadable, too damn powerful—always come with consequences. I’ve spent years perfecting the art of detachment, never letting anyone get too close.
And yet…
He doesn’t feel like every other man who’s looked at me like I was something to be had.
He’s looking at me like he’s daring me to choose him.
Just for tonight.
And God help me—I want to.
I want to forget about tomorrow. About the life I’m supposed to step back into. I want to let myself be selfish. Just this once.
I tilt my head slightly, giving him silent permission.
He takes it.
His lips find the curve of my throat, pressing deeper this time. His teeth graze, then soothe with his tongue—a slow, languid drag that sends a shiver rolling down my spine.
It’s not explosive.
It’s not rushed.
It’s controlled.
Every touch, every breath, measured—like the slow game of chess we’ve been playing all night.
Like he wants to savor me.
I turn in his arms, pressing my hands against the hard planes of his chest. His pulse beats steady and strong beneath my fingers.
There’s something dangerous about this.
The way I feel like I’m being worshipped.
Like he’s letting himself indulge in something rare—something he doesn’t usually allow himself.
The weight of that realization sinks deep into my bones.
He wraps an arm low around my back. His hand guides my head back as he pulls me against his hard body, and I don’t fight it.
I lift onto my toes as he lowers his mouth to mine, our eyes closing as he kisses me.
And it’s nothing like I expected.
Not greedy. Not devouring.
Just… deep.
Like he’s exploring. Mapping. Learning every inch of me through the press of our mouths.
Like he knows we only have this night, and he refuses to waste a single second.
I melt into him.
His fingers slip beneath the thin straps of my dress, dragging them down with excruciating slowness. Fabric pools at my feet.
His hands skim up my bare back, tracing, memorizing.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice barely above a whisper.
His words brush over my skin like the lightest caress, sending a shiver down my spine.
I should dismiss it like I have every other compliment before this one.
But I can’t.
Because there’s something about the way he says it.
Not just spoken—but felt.
Like he’s not telling me for my benefit, but because he needs me to know.
His lips return to mine, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the taste of me.
I sigh into him, hands tracing up the sharp lines of his shoulders, the firm muscles beneath the tailored fabric of his suit.
Too many layers.
I tug at his jacket, and he releases me just long enough to shrug it off, letting it fall somewhere behind him.
His lips drift lower, pressing against the hollow of my throat—the sensitive space beneath my ear. His breath is warm, his touch firm yet gentle, every movement precise.
A quiet moan escapes me when his mouth finds my collarbone, his teeth grazing before soothing the spot with his tongue.
I slide my fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to test him.
A sharp inhale is my reward, the subtle tension in his jaw the only sign that I’ve affected him.
I exhale shakily, my head tipping back as his lips trail a path lower—along the curve of my shoulder, the tops of my breasts.
The only barrier between us is lace.
Thin. Delicate. Inconsequential.
His hands smooth up my ribs, thumbs brushing beneath the swell of my breasts, teasing until a low growl rumbles from his chest.
He tugs the lace down.
His mouth replaces fabric with heat.
A slow, deliberate kiss to the valley between my breasts.
A teasing drag of his tongue against my nipple earns him another moan.
A deep, reverent inhale—like he’s breathing me in—makes my fingers tighten in his hair as a wicked smirk ghosts against my skin.
God help me.
Because he’s not just taking his time.
He’s enjoying this.
Every shiver. Every quiet sound I make. Every inch of bare skin he reveals fuels him to keep going.
I don’t realize he’s walking me backward until my knees hit the edge of the bed, the mattress giving beneath me as I sink into it.
His lips chase mine until I’m leaning back, one hand bracing against the mattress, the other fisting the lapel of his shirt and pulling him to me.
My fingers fight against the top button until I free it—then the next, and another.
He pulls away from me, reaching behind and tugging the neck of his shirt over his head.
The hard planes of his body gleam in the moonlight. The way it kisses his tanned skin, the shadows hugging every muscle—it makes my mouth water.
I slide forward, my knees spread wide.
My palms flatten against his thighs, traveling up inch by inch as I look up at him. The heat in our shared gaze is an inferno, and we’re both ready to be consumed by the fire.
I reach his cock, and—fuck—he’s hard as stone.
Wrapping my arms around his pelvis, I pull him into me, my mouth working his dick through his pants.
Finally, I reach just above me, his belt only slightly arguing with me until the metal clinks as I remove it.
I keep my eyes on him as I undo the button of his pants.
His thumb rubs slowly over my bottom lip, and I know he’s wondering what my mouth feels like.
The tip of my tongue darts out, making him press his lips into a thin line.
“Nothing but fucking trouble,” he growls as I pull his zipper down.
And—God—he’s big.
Long. Thick.
And I need him.
My grip is firm around the base of his erection, and I make a long, slow lick along the head of his cock. The salty, teasing taste of him explodes within me, and I close my eyes, moaning as I take him farther into my mouth.
My hand goes to my breast, pinching my nipple as I grind my hips against the soft mattress.
It’s an impulse.
A need for friction that drives me as I suck him deeper into my mouth.
“Christ, baby,” he pants, his hand holding the side of my head as he rolls his hips into me. “Oh, fuck, just like that, Trouble.”
I swirl my tongue. My hand slides along his length in time with my mouth.
I have a talent for this.
And I love taking it. Owning it.
The power.
The control.
I’m owning him with just my tongue.
I could keep his cock in my mouth all day—teasing him near orgasm before slowly licking his length as it ebbs away.
Right now, I’m only thinking of what he’ll taste like. His cum running down my throat as his grunts surround me.
And he wants it too—but he’s fighting against the release.
He hits the back of my throat, both hands holding my head as I pump my mouth and grip his cock.
“Fuck. Thirty more seconds, and your sweet mouth would be full of me.”
He pulls away from me, and I release him with a pop.
“Scoot back and spread your legs, Trouble. Let me see what belongs to me.”
I smirk, one brow cocked, removing my heels and sliding myself back.
“Only for tonight,” I remind him.
“Even still. Mine.”
He nods once.
“But you have far too many clothes on, baby.”
He holds out his hand while the other strokes his long cock, and I can’t stop myself from watching.
Lifting my hips, I hook my thumbs under the thin straps and remove the black lace panties, giving them to him.
“Spread them.”
His heated gaze is fixed on my pussy as I open my legs wide, my hands splayed on my thighs, rubbing myself as he looks at me.
“So fucking beautiful.”
My panties move to his other hand. Then he wraps them around his cock, sliding them up his length.
He closes his eyes and drops his head back, stroking himself with my underwear.
“You’re already so fucking wet, and I haven’t even touched that sweet cunt yet.”
He lifts them to his nose, inhaling deeply, like it’s saving his life.
Holy shit.
This man is lethal.
“I can’t wait another second to taste you, Trouble.”
One knee hits the bed, then the other as he crawls to me, his warm mouth kissing and licking up my long legs until his nose runs up the slit of my pussy, his cock hanging out of his pants.
With a deep inhale and a growl, he looks at me.
My mouth parts, and I watch his tongue with rabid interest as he takes his time with the first lick.
Long.
Slow.
And fucking unbelievable.
“The sweetest troublemaker I’ve ever had.”
He licks again before rubbing two fingers between the lips of my cunt, spreading me.
His eyes never leave me, memorizing every inch before he utterly destroys me.
Licking turns to sucking.
“Oh my God.”
My back arches when he thrusts a finger inside me, pumping in and out.
“She’s singing for me, Trouble.”
The sound of my slick arousal joins the chorus of my panting.
His mouth is back on my clit, sucking me until I moan out loudly.
“That’s it. You sing for me too, baby.”
Another finger joins the first, curling into me.
The pace is perfect.
The pressure is–fuck.
His tongue is relentless.
Coaxing my orgasm with his “come hither” motion, I hold my legs open wide for him. My hips roll with the movements of his mouth until my nails are digging into my skin.
My hand flies to his head, threading into his hair as I come.
My clit throbs.
My hips buck.
My legs twitch.
And he doesn’t stop.
“Give me another one, beautiful.”
He demands another orgasm.
I imagine most of the world bends to his will, and my pleasure is apparently no different.
“Not yet,”
But my hand in his hair holds him, a willing prisoner against me.
“It’s too?—”
“I want you.” He cuts me off adding a third finger, and spots form on the edges of my vision.
“You’re going to give me everything tonight.”
He sucks my clit again, swirling his tongue.
“You’ll be such a good girl for me—all night.”
He nips at my clit as his other hand pinches my nipple, and another orgasm crashes through me.
I’m locked in place.
The only thing I can do is grip the pillows on each side of me and hope they keep me fixed to the earth.
Crying out my release to the ceiling above me.
No sooner than it ebbs away does he pull me up by my wrist and turn me.
He’s under me.
His arms wrap around my thighs, pulling my cunt down to his mouth.
My mystery man is famished for me, and the thought makes me clench.
“Oh my fucking God, yes,” I breathe out, my eyes closed tight as I ride his tongue.
He fucking wants it.
And I tell him as much.
“You want me to fuck your pretty face, mystery man?”
He growls.
He wants me to say his name.
And I want it too.
I want to scream it as I start to come again.
But no names.
No expectations.
His teeth graze my pulsing clit.
“You feel so good,” I cry out, each throb of my orgasm making me grunt as I work my hips against his mouth.
“I’m coming.”
My hand grips the headboard, using it to keep my pace steady.
“You’re making me come so hard.”
I realize I’m pulling his hair, and as my pleasure fades, I release my hold and slow my strokes.
“Holy shit.”
Tipping my head back, I close my eyes and pant, catching my breath as his fervent sucking turns to tender licks and soft kisses.
“Lean forward. Get those beautiful tits on the bed and keep this ass in the air.”
He pulls my hips as I drop my chest to the mattress.
He kisses my ass cheek before he smacks it.
“God, just fucking kill me so I can die a happy man.”
I hear a drawer open, then the sound of a condom wrapper being ripped.
After a beat, the head of his hard cock teases my pussy, and I lean back like a cat in heat.
The dark rumble of his chest rolls over me as he chuckles.
“I’m going to take care of you, Trouble.”
He slides his dick up and down my slit, making me moan.
Making me desperate to have him fill me.
“Hold still for me, baby.”
One hand grips my hip as the other holds his cock at my entrance.
He pushes into me so slowly, and I swear I feel it—like a rope being pulled tight in my belly.
“Fuck, Trouble.”
Both hands grip my hips as he pulls nearly all the way out, then thrusts in deep.
My back bows, and I cry out.
It feels so fucking good.
“You’re so tight.”
He thrusts in, pulling nearly out, then back in again. The pacing is perfect. His long cock hitting so deep inside me every time.
I could get addicted to this.
To him.
He presses soft kisses against my spine, leaning over me and grasping a handful of my hair.
“I knew you were going to feel so fucking good, Trouble. But this?”
He fucks me faster.
Harder.
“This pussy is heaven, baby.”
His grip is bruising on my hip as he slams into me.
Our flesh slaps against each other, our moans mixing together, his grunts raw and broken as he works me toward another orgasm.
“Fuck me harder,” I cry out, the first wave of pleasure rolling over me.
“No, Trouble.”
He quickly widens my legs and pulls my ass up more, deepening the arch in my back.
My eyes roll back in my head.
“But I’ll fuck you deeper.”
And Christ, he does.
I’ve never felt this full—never felt someone this deep inside me before.
“Fuck.”
“Fuck.”
It’s the only word my vocal cords can form, and I say it over and over again.
“You take my fucking cock, Trouble. Every goddamn inch.”
He hammers into me, my orgasm locking me in place, holding me captive as he grunts his release into the condom.
His movements slow.
The strokes of his cock still inside me become longer. His strong hands knead my ass cheeks, like he’s giving them thanks and adoration.
“Oh, you beautiful troublemaker.”
His words are reverent as he brings me down from the high we just climbed together.
Somehow, I want more.
My hips join his slow thrusts, and he chuckles at me from behind.
He flips me over, my hair falling in waves across the pillow as he settles between my legs.
His sinful smile is full of satisfaction, and his blue eyes instantly capture me.
Warm hands slide up my body as his weight settles on top of me. My arms wrap around his neck, and our mouths meet—both of us groaning as our tongues reunite.
Pulling back, he smooths more of my hair away, admiring the just-fucked look of satisfaction he must see on my face.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers, and it almost seems like he intended it for himself.
He slides off the bed, standing.
The silver light of the moon hits him perfectly, giving me a full view of his godlike body.
His pants hang low on his waist, his semi-hard cock still in his grip.
I crawl toward him, and he pinches my chin, pulling me up to him and nipping at my bottom lip with his teeth.
“I’ll get you some water.”
He kisses me again, his tongue demanding my mouth open for him.
“Then I’m going to fuck you again.”