Chapter 20 #2
“Very… well…” he murmurs against my lips before he kisses me and leaves me breathless.
Our lips mesh, my body turns liquid, and I forget what day it even is.
He kisses like he means it. Deliberate, scolding, like he wants to ensure I know he’s mine.
It makes my knees weak, my pulse thud in my neck, my body relaxed, sultry, and I want to turn myself over to him and let him do whatever he likes.
“Donovan,” I whisper-moan his name as his hands cup my ass, and he lifts me up, my legs circling his waist, our bodies colliding.
“I’ve craved you all day. Since this morning… since you came undone on my desk.” His words are muffled between kisses as my hands run down his torso and land on his belt.
“Yeah?” I ask breathily, beyond turned on as I open his belt buckle, feeling him already hard and ready underneath.
“All I’ve thought about is your pretty pussy,” he says as I push open his pants, maneuvering myself enough to let them fall to the floor as my back hits the glass of his floor-to-ceiling windows, the coolness biting my bare skin.
I moan at the cold, my back arching in response as his mouth moves from mine.
His lips caress my bare shoulders as he pulls down my bra straps, kissing to my breast. I’m panting like I’ve run a marathon, anticipation building in me so quickly it should be embarrassing.
He grips me tight with one hand as the other tugs down my bra cup, his lips immediately closing around my nipple.
“Oh my…” My head rolls back as my hand dives into his underwear, feeling his hardness, wanting him closer, needing more.
“Your hands on my body are everything…” His voice is hoarse.
Like he’s almost unable to control it. He kisses back up my chest and latches onto my mouth.
As we kiss feverishly, I push down his underwear, the two of us a tangle of limbs, the peak-hour traffic almost silent below us from this far up in the New York skyline.
“Fuck, baby.” He slaps his hand against the window at the side of my head, gripping around my waist tight as my body arches, our hips connected, my upper back plastered to the glass.
“Can anyone see?” I ask half-heartedly, too far gone to care, just wanting to have him right there against the window.
“They wouldn’t dare…” He pulls my underwear to the side, watching where we’re about to connect, and I see stars with just anticipation as he teases my entrance.
“Yes…” I almost can’t talk, my breath leaving me as I feel him push inside.
“Fuck,” he grits out and lunges forward, his mouth locking with mine.
“Yes… more…” He thrusts into me, my body jolting, the coolness at my back now welcome as I heat at his touch.
“Fuck, Jessie…” He says my nickname, and I pull at his tie, not letting go, wanting his lips on me as he thrusts harder and harder.
“Don’t stop… Oh my God…” I feel it from my toes. The shaking, my body shuddering. I can’t control it. The need, the want, the demand. His thrusts quicken, my body slamming against the glass with each one, like he’s possessed by me, completely overtaken with lust so encompassing he can’t get enough.
And neither can I.
“Yes… yes… yes…” I pant over and over, our dinner getting cold, his hand gripping on to my ass, hard enough to leave bruises. I move my hips, meeting him on every thrust, demanding more. Wanting more.
“You’re killing me, baby.” His voice is low, his words a warning, his body not relenting.
“Donovan,” I warn, feeling my toes start to curl.
“Take it… Fucking take it. I wanna see you come all over me…”
“Donovan… Oh… my…” I whimper, my body feeling out of control, not my own.
“Fucking scream my name, baby… Scream my name while you come on my cock.”
“Donovan!” I scream as my body shudders, and I let go. The feeling is overwhelming, unexpected, and completely bone-weary. My body moves in a way that I didn’t know it could. Everything shatters as I grind my hips against his.
“Yes… Fuck, yes…” He thrusts hard two more times, my body his to own as he comes. His release is guttural, his voice gruff, and as he stills, I sink into his hold, the traffic below continuing to move.
“Mmmmmm, good girl… That’s what I call a welcome home.”
I grin against his mouth as he kisses me reverently.
Dinner can now be served.
“You look good in my home,” Donovan says, his eyes following me as I sit beside him at the table.
“I think an ogre would look good in this place. This is amazing.”
He huffs a laugh.
“I like the view. I like the privacy and the quiet. Everything else is just stuff. Except you… I really like you…” His hand brushes against my cheek, and a little piece of hair falls over his forehead. I almost melt.
“Well, hopefully, I don’t poison you with my cooking,” I tease as we get settled with our bowls of pasta.
“At least I would die happy. Tell me, what's your favorite food?” He takes a sip of wine, still watching me.
“Probably Reuben sandwiches.”
He pauses. “Really? That’s oddly specific. What is it about them you love so much?”
“Well, it isn’t really about the sandwich, although they are delicious.
But every Saturday, my Aunt Vivian buys us all Reuben sandwiches for lunch at the shop.
It’s that one time every week where we sit and enjoy and spend time together, all over Reuben sandwiches. Saturdays are one of my favorite days.”
“Cheers to Saturdays.” He grabs his glass once more, and we touch them together.
“So you’re close with your aunt and uncle?”
“Very. They raised me. My parents are a little… M.I.A.” I’m not sure how to explain my parents’ absence.
People don’t really understand it. To be honest, I don’t really either.
Especially the older I get. I’m now an adult with a job and responsibilities, and I can’t imagine giving up my child for a life so carefree that they don’t care about anything.
“My parents were the same. I mean, I lived in the same house as them growing up, but I hardly saw them, we certainly didn’t spend quality time together.” I like these little snippets of conversations that tell me more about the man I’m currently falling for.
“Were they both working or?” Something else I don’t really know about him that many other people already do. I have no idea about his parents other than his father started the business where I now work.
“My father worked nonstop. I guess all his hard work paid off, since the business is now wildly successful and he set me up for life. My mother played the role of a rich socialite. She was often out and about, at one luncheon or another. She helped charities, did some good. But in terms of home life, I was raised by nannies and housekeepers, for the most part.”
My heart hurts a little thinking about his upbringing, but I guess it isn’t dissimilar to my own. Both of us were left by the people who were meant to love us the most.
“So no siblings?” I already know the answer.
“Nope, just me.”
“Same. I’m lucky to have my aunt and uncle, but I have no other family. Just me.” He grabs my hand, giving it a squeeze.
“And now here we are… together…” he says tentatively.
“Again… this pasta could change that fact…” I say playfully, and he barks a laugh.
“Sooo, I need to go to Milan after Thanksgiving. A quick trip, a few meetings, a festive fashion show. Four days or so. I want you to come with me.”
My breath catches. “Milan?” Did I hear him right?
“Yes. Italy. We’ll take my jet. I’ll arrange everything.”
My mind whirls as I try to process. I’ve never been out of the country before.
“As your advisor or as your…” I’m not sure what word to use to describe us yet.
“Both. As my advisor and as my girl.”
I roll my lips so I don’t beam. His girl.
“The media have been pretty intrusive, so I thought it might be nice to get away for a bit?” he continues, waiting for my answer.
“Okay…” I say softly, feeling the excitement bubble in my stomach.
“Okay.” His eyes glisten as he nods, happiness taking over his features.
He looks at his pasta with hunger. “Should we taste it together?”
“If we make it out alive, do you want to come to my place for Thanksgiving? Aunt Vivian makes the best turkey, and I try my best with the sides.”
“If the pasta doesn’t end me, I would love to,” he teases, and I grin as we dig in.
It ends up being the best pasta I’ve ever made.