His Dirty Author: An Age Gap Romance

The scene races forward in my mind, hero consuming the heroine’s pussy until she’s arching off the bed, nearly screaming, but still a breath away from that delicious orgasm. And just when she’s about to go over the edge, he pulls back. She can feel his smile on her thigh, happy that he’s ruined her pleasure because it means he gets to do it all over again.

She begs him, and he tells her no. There’s so much more to do. So many more ways to play, and she paid for the whole night, remember?

The heroine shudders, the reality of a whole night under his command dropping her into white-hot arousal.

In the real world, I’m close. My clit is swollen and I’m so wet that I should have worn panties because there’s going to be a wet spot on these leggings and I can’t even care.

So close, so close, so close—

“Good to know you’re getting along well so far.” The rich voice comes from behind me, and the entire world freezes. My orgasm is ruined just like the heroine’s, but this wasn’t on purpose.

He doesn’t know, right? He just thinks that I’m looking at the view?

Who am I kidding? My legs are spread too wide, and I’m leaned too far back to simply be enjoying the view. Unless in the last ten minutes I became one of those frat bros on the subway that need to take up three seats with their knees.

I pull my fingers out of my pussy and my hand out of my leggings and slowly spin to face him. Pretend that nothing is happening. That’s the only choice. “I was wondering when or if I’d see you.”

Malik’s eyes are burning into me with something entirely other than anger. “What were you doing?”

“It’s not often that I get to see this kind of view. I was just looking at it, thinking about the next part of the scene.” I swallow. My heart is pounding in my ears and there’s so much adrenaline racing through my veins that I think I might fall off the chair.

He comes around the desk at an even pace, hands in his pockets. Today is an equally simple outfit, t-shirt and jeans, but he’s still devastatingly sexy. One eyebrow rises. “And if I ask you to show me your hand, would it tell me the same story about the view?”

My fingers are still wet. Oh, fuck. I need to do something. Wipe them on my leggings. A tissue. Anything. I’m frozen in this moment, and I have no idea what to do. This is the farthest thing from professional. I am so fired.

Malik reaches out and grabs my hand, pulling it to him so fast that I don’t have a chance to react. Then every sense goes into overload as he puts my fingers directly into his mouth.

And sucks.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

“Mmm,” he makes a low sound. “You, Ms. Bailey, taste good. Now tell me the truth.”

I can’t. I absolutely cannot do that.

But at the same time, my nipples are hard under my shirt and I’m wetter than when I was literally fucking myself. Anything this man asks me to do? I’m going to do that.

My mouth is as dry as the Gobi Desert, but I try to find the words. “I was imagining the scene. That wasn’t a lie. Trying to find how it would go.”

“By touching yourself?”

My face flames. “If you want to fire me, I understand.”

He tastes my fingers again, slowly running his tongue over them. Oh my God, I’m literally going to come right now. This is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me in my life. “If you don’t think I write some of my sex scenes with my cock in my hand, then you’re wrong.”

Oh.

“Get up,” he says, and I’m standing before he’s finished the words. In one movement he hauls me against his body and kisses me.

My mind goes blank.

Malik Ellis is kissing me. And goddamn if it isn’t the best kiss of my life. I had one boyfriend in school, but it was brief, done as a favor to go on double-dates with a friend. He'd kissed like he was scared he'd break me. Like I was glass.

Malik kisses me like he knows I can handle it. His tongue strokes across mine with determined purpose, plunging deep. Reminding me of other ways he could plunge into me.

He pulls back and looks at me. “If I hadn’t thought you were trying to use me for money when I walked into Michael’s office, I would have been dragging you into the nearest supply closet.”

“I—”

“No,” he says, using that dark voice of command that I’ve always imagined. “The only thing I want to hear from you is a yes or a no. If it’s a yes, then I’m going to fuck you up against the window for all of New York to see. If no, then you’ll go back to work, and I’m going to go get myself off in the shower. While you think about exactly how I’m stroking myself and imagine what we could have done together.”