Seven Nights of Sin (Penthouse Affair #2)

She looks surprised for a moment before a mix of desire and determination comes over her face. She sinks gracefully to the floor at my feet.

“Very nice,” I say, petting her hair. And I mean that. Maybe I shouldn’t be praising her on a night that’s supposed to be all about my needs, but she is a pretty sight, ready and waiting to serve me however I ask. “Take out my cock.”

My shirt is already hanging open and my belt is God knows where, but I’m still going to enjoy watching her trembling fingers unzip my dress pants.

“That’s it,” I say, encouraging her when she wraps me in her warm fist.

She grips the base tight. My heart racing, I watch her soft pink lips meet the tip of my cock. A loud groan of relief escapes me as they part to slide down over the shaft. It’s been too damn long since I’ve had her. I’d forgotten how combustible we are together—how quickly I lose the battle for control when she’s near.

She follows her hand up and down, sucking hard, her tongue lapping like she’s missed this as much as I have. The sight of her is overwhelming. She sure as hell isn’t new to sex anymore . . . she knows exactly what to do now.

Still, I can’t let her just do whatever she pleases tonight. I tangle my fingers tight in her hair to direct her where to go, how fast to bob her head and work her sweet mouth. She lets out a soft murmur that burns in the pit of my stomach. I make a mental note that she’s partial to a little hair-pulling, then remind myself for the millionth time that what she enjoys isn’t what this trip is about.

“You look amazing like this.” My voice comes out as a groan. I didn’t mean to say that aloud, but it slipped out. Whatever. A little encouragement can’t hurt, right? “I could watch you suck me all night.”

She sighs and squirms, rubbing her thighs together. The thought that she’s trying to ease her own arousal makes me throb.

her free hand creeping between her legs, I say sharply, “I didn’t say you could touch yourself. I’ll give you your turn soon enough . . .

be a whimper and moves her hand up to cup my

I won’t last long if she

keeping up her own work while letting me move her. I thrust faster, deeper—still careful not to gag her; I’m sure she doesn’t know

at me, her lashes fluttering, her lips still sealed around me, and suddenly I’m

stroke me,

snatches her hand

quick, light slap on the butt. A startled squeak escapes her.

“I’m s—”

her off. I’m going

other hand down her body. She sucks in a sharp breath when I push two fingers into her; for the second time tonight I’m knuckles deep inside her. She’s so wet, so perfectly ready for me. My thumb finds her swollen, eager bud and she arches, clutching at my back and shoulders like she’s trying to hang on for dear life. But I

hips buck and stutter forward into my touch. I’m consumed by her scent, her sounds of pleasure, the feel of her

and intern, or even lovers, because lovers have a shared history and complicated emotions I’d rather ignore. Tonight, we’re

grow louder and more urgent. Suddenly, she gives

“Dom . . .”