Chapter 5
HAZEL
I tried touching myself last night.
I just need to say that upfront because it’s been consuming me since two in the morning, and I have nobody to tell. For some reason, explaining this to Cassi feels…wrong.
I was lying in bed in my tiny apartment, listening to the drip-drip-drip of the leaky bathroom faucet when I slid my hand between my legs and tried to replicate what Dominic did to me on his desk.
It didn’t work.
My fingers found the right spot—that tender nub he’d showed me. I replayed every moment in my mind.
His tongue, his groan, his fingers. The way he pinned me down like it was nothing. God, his strength. I can’t stop thinking about it.
And like when I sat at my desk, I was drenched, aching, desperate for relief. And I rubbed and pressed and circled that sweet spot until my hand cramped up and my sheets were soaked.
But nothing happened. No release, no explosion, just a pressure that built and built and ended up going nowhere. I covered my face with my pillow and screamed.
I guess my body has decided it belongs to him now—a man I’ve known for less than two days. And nothing else will do, not even my own hand.
When I get to work, there’s a pulse between my legs that won’t quit. I can barely focus as I step out of the elevator and walk to my desk. Every little movement sends a throbbing sensation through me.
The glass isn’t tinted as I sit down, but I keep my eyes off him—for now. I should at least try to get some work done. Try to do my actual job. But as I sit down, I can feel his presence.
I cross my legs and squeeze, trying to force back this feeling inside me. But it just makes it worse.
The friction from my thighs pressing together reminds me of the panties he took. I have another pair on this morning.
Will he take them too?
I can’t stop myself from thinking about him. About how I can still smell his cologne on my skin. About how stupid I feel still about drawing the smiley face on his cup. As I glance behind me, I can still see it sitting on the edge of his desk. My stomach twists as a warmth spreads through it.
There he is. He’s on the phone, pacing behind his desk in a charcoal pants and tailored shirt that fits his body like it was made to make every woman who looks at him suffer.
His jacket is over his chair, and his sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, showing the muscles in his forearms, which flex and bulge every time he gestures.
He glances at me through the glass.
I look away so fast I nearly give my neck whiplash.
My phone buzzes. Cassi again: Day 2! How’s the hot boss? You pregnant yet?
I almost laugh as I type back, my fingers trembling: Fine. Fine. Not pregnant. Everything professional.
She writes back instantly: Liar! You only write long texts when you’re lying.
Caught. The price of having a best friend who knows you.
I stuff my phone in the drawer and get to work.
The morning crawls by at a snail’s pace. I file stuff—misfile half of it—and schedule a meeting for the wrong time zone and quickly have to call four people to fix it.
Marcus walks past my desk without even acknowledging my presence, which I guess is an improvement over the death stares he gave me yesterday.
Diana passes, looking expensive, and looks down her nose at me. “No smiley face today?”
I force a smile.
Every fifteen minutes, I have to squeeze my thighs together. I’ve even started biting the inside of my cheek to distract myself.
Just after lunch, the buzzer on my desk lights up red. And this time, I catch it.
My heart nearly leaps from my throat.
I stand up and smooth my skirt, take a deep breath, and walk on my noodle-legs over to his office door. The glass darkens as I step inside, shifting from transparent to opaque.
It’s a strange sensation, being able to still see out into the office but also feeling shaded and knowing you’re invisible to all of them.
Are any of them thinking about what we might be up to in here?
“You couldn’t orgasm last night.” Dominic speaks like he’s stating a fact. My face instantly starts to tingle.
“I—how did you—?”
“Know?” His eyes drag up and down my body, slow and intentional, lingering on the hem of my skirt, my hips, my breasts. “You tried to get yourself off. You found the spot I showed you. You were soaking wet while you thought of me. But you couldn’t quite get there. Am I right?”
I swallow hard. “No.”
He’s not buying it. The corner of his lip twists, and he motions to me with two fingers, instantly reminding me of what he did to me with them yesterday. “Come here.”
Without thinking, I move toward him. He remains still as a statue. I stop in front of him, close enough to feel his heat. His broad shoulders seem to envelop me. My heart rate spikes as I marvel up at him.
So tall…
He examines me for a moment, then reaches up and traces my jaw with his thumb.
“I’m the only one who can make you come, Hazel,” he tells me, his voice dripping with pride. “You can try all you want, but you need me.”
What a statement. It should make me angry. I should tell him to go screw himself.
Instead, his words cause something deep inside me to loosen, like there’s been a fist clenched inside me all day. Relief floods through me. He’s taking all the responsibility out of my hands—and I like it.
“Yes, sir.” I nod.
His eyes narrow, blazing like supernovas. His hand moves to his belt, and he motions to me. “Down. On your knees.”
I’m on the carpet before he’s finished speaking, kneeling between his knees, staring up at him as he unfastens his belt and frees himself from his briefs.
His cock springs out like a spear on a spring, a mere inch or two from my face. I stop breathing.
Yesterday I touched it. And that was overwhelming in itself. But this close—feeling the heat of his arousal on my lips and smelling his manly musk that coats my lungs—I start to realize what that feeling was inside me.
Not relief. Worship.
I want to worship this man.
“Open up,” he says. I do as I’m told.
He moves his hips forward, guiding his sex to my lips with one hand as he slips the other into my hair, threading the strands, cupping the back of my skull with his palm.
His swollen tip, dripping with slick, presses against my lips. So smooth, so hot, so salty.
My whole body reacts. My nerves begin to sing, and my eyes close on instinct.
“No. Look at me,” he orders. “Let me see those pretty eyes.”
Obediently, I look up at him. Being told what to do like this—feeling wanted—it’s awakened something inside of me. And I just want more. More.
He feeds me another inch. My jaw opens to accommodate him. My lips strain around his girth, and I moan. It’s just so hot. The weight of his sex on my tongue is short-circuiting my brain. Every thought is replaced by him.
The wonderful existence of him.
“Good girl. Now suck it.” His fingers tighten in my hair, causing my hips to buck slightly. “Use your tongue on the underside. Trace that vein—fuck yes. Just like that, angel.”
Angel…
Hearing him call me that is transformative. Like he’s awakening some other piece of me.
I do as he instructs. I flatten my tongue and lick along the ridge of his shaft. His entire body jolts, and his grip in my hair goes tight enough that it starts to sting. Somehow, that ignites my desire even more.
I want to please this man. I need to.
“Deeper.” He pushes my head down and his hips forward. “You won’t choke. Just breathe through your nose.”
I try my best, but I gag when his crown presses against the back of my throat. I try to hold back, but he holds me there for a second. My throat starts to burn, and I’m sure I’m going to pass out, but then he pulls me off.
Saliva strings hang from my lips, dangling from his tip. Tears spill from my eyes as I look up at him.
Why aren’t I mad? Why is this just turning me on more?
“Again,” he growls.
Yes. That’s what I want to hear.
I open wide and take him again, even deeper this time. I manage to force back the gag as my throat convulses around him.
“That’s right, angel,” he grunts as I taste his pre-cum. “I’ve wanted this all goddamn day. I spent all night thinking about your lips wrapped around my cock.”
His words are like golden punches, hitting me in the chest, causing my heart to pound like it’s going to burst.
I love it. His praise is like encouragement. All I want to do is more. Be better.
I bob my head, finding a rhythm that pleases him. Spit drips from my mouth and runs down my chin. But I don’t care. I want to be messy. I want to be ruined by him. I want to be so good at this that he never looks at another woman again. Ever.
“You’re such a good fucking girl,” he groans as his head tilts back. “You were made for this. Made for me.”
His praise turns my blood to warm honey. I suck harder. I even reach up and wrap my hand around the base where my lips can’t reach. He’s pulsing against my tongue. I feel him swelling, somehow growing even larger.
“That’s it. I’m going to come down your throat, angel.” His eyes lock on to mine. Intent, feral, fiery. “You’re going to swallow every single drop. Don’t waste anything I give you.”
I nod the best I can and moan back my response.
Yes.
That’s when he breaks.
He grabs my head with both hands as his hips buck forward. Three sharp thrusts and his tip swells—then I feel it. Hot liquid sprays against the back of my throat, sticky and wonderful.
I almost choke on the first spurt but focus and swallow. I can’t ruin this for him.
I keep swallowing as he continues to pulse, giving me more and more. He pulls me down on his length, and I drink every drop he gives me, just like he told me to do.
He lets out a groan of satisfaction that warms every inch of me, and when he finally slides out of my mouth, I gasp for breath.
I’m so horny I could die. And Dominic doesn’t give me a moment to think.
He lifts me up from the floor by my arms and bends me over his desk.
As he lifts my skirt, I feel suddenly vulnerable. He peels my panties down, and I begin to blush. From this angle…he can see everything.
He stands behind me, grabs my butt with both hands, and spreads me open. I gasp as he presses his lips to the back of my thighs, moving up…up…up…
“There it is,” he mutters, the voice of a man gripped by hunger. “My pussy.”
He licks me, and I cry out. This time he starts at my clit, then moves up my slit to my soaked entrance.
But he doesn’t stop there.
He keeps going, all the way up to my other hole.
“Dominic, oh my God—”
“Quiet, angel,” he commands. “There’s not an inch on your body I wouldn’t put my tongue.”
And boy does he mean it.
He fucks me with his fingers—deep, curling strokes that hit my spot and send electric jolts up my spine. His thumb finds my clit and moves in tight little circles, tripling the sensations already rolling through me.
And his tongue laps hungrily at the rest of me, nearly causing me to break down.
It’s like having nowhere to hide. Dominic is making it clear that I belong to him. He’s going to do whatever he wants with me, however he wants, and I can’t stop him.
But then again, I don’t want to stop him.
“No one else gets this,” he growls, his words vibrating through my bones. “No one else makes you come. Say it.”
“No one else, sir,” I gasp. “No one. Only you—”
“Come for me, Hazel. Show me who you belong to.”
He doesn’t have to ask twice. I shatter.
My orgasm rips through me, even harder than yesterday, deeper and fuller. My entire body convulses, and I scream through clenched teeth as my legs threaten to give out.
But Dominic grips my hips and holds me tightly, keeping all the pressure right where it needs to be. I feel my sex clamping around his fingers in rhythmic, soaking contractions.
I’m not even self-conscious about my wetness against his face. I know he likes it now. He wants it.
I go light-headed as I ride the waves, my head tilted back, submitting myself fully to him. My boss. My owner.
Finally, as I come down, he pulls me into his arms and kisses me all up my neck. I’m sweating, and I know he can taste it, but I also know he doesn’t care.
In fact, he probably likes it. After all, I like the taste of his cum. I like it a lot.
I press my face to his chest, losing myself in the rhythm of his heartbeat. For some reason, a thought enters my mind. “Dominic. Can I ask you something?”
“Anything, angel.”
“Were there any other applicants?”
I feel his body tense, just slightly. “What?”
“Other applicants. Other than me.”
Silence. I hear the sound of the building’s HVAC system. Finally, he shakes his head. “No. Just you.”
Something drops in me. I close my eyes.
More questions enter my mind. Why would a billionaire accept a blind e-mail application from a teenager with no qualifications?
But I don’t ask. I can’t. Not now.
Right now, I just want to remain in his arms and pretend that a man like Dominic wanting me this badly isn’t the most terrifying thing in the world.
When I drive home later, I still taste him on my tongue. I still feel the tender places where he touched me as they sizzle with afterglow. My lips are swollen.
I signed the contract, but that’s not why I’m doing this. I’m doing this because when Dominic Blackwood tells me I’m his, every cell in my body lights up.
My soul agrees.
And that—that is more terrifying than the contract.