She tried to make it to the door, but he beat her to it. She panicked like one of those idiots in a horror movie and ran in the wrong direction. Thinking fast, she decided she could lock herself in his restroom until they got a handle on their hormones.
She told him previously that they were not to partake in such activities at work, especially since he’d once pushed her in the broom closet after kissing her because his father was approaching. He didn’t want to be seen with her at work at all, yet she was trapped in his office. She made it to the restroom door, but the bastard locked it. She was now pressed up against the door with him behind her.
“I can’t help but notice you’re wearing the dress you wore the day I confronted you for stalking me.” His lips were right next to her ear. The heat of Nick’s mouth next to her sensitive flesh caused light ripples of pleasure to flow through her body. His hands massaged her breasts through the thin fabric. Kalilah ached for him. She took a deep breath and tried to regain control.
“Nick…”
He unclasped the front closure of her bra. Her breasts spilled out. Nick murmured his satisfaction. Kalilah’s exposed nipples pressed against the cool metal of the door. She stifled a moan.
“You know, I’d wondered if you wore panties underneath.” His hands found the band of her underwear. “Now, I know.” He hooked
his thumb in the band and started to push them down. “But, these don’t work for my fantasy,” he rasped before sucking on her neck. A moan pushed its way out of her mouth before she could stop it. All her nerves were alive, her body was a conduit for pleasure seeking release from the ache only Nick could create.
Being trapped between his heat on her back and the coolness of the door against her breasts was creating a heady combination.
“We can’t…” she pleaded.
Her panties pooled at her ankles. She tried to move, but he was too solid.
“We will.”
The sound of his zipper solidified his statement. His head pressed against her opening. “Tell me you want it.”
He rubbed himself against her when she didn’t respond. His hand cupped her front, adding pressure to her aroused clit. She tried not to moan again.
“Now, baby! Tell me you want me.”
“I want you.”
She whispered. More than he’d ever know. He pushed inside her body, she moaned helplessly. Her emotions were raw, and the coolness rubbing against her sensitive nipples with each thrust was unlike any sensation she’d ever felt.
He increased the pace and pressure. He was moaning her name as his fingers dug into her hips.
“I will never get tired of fucking you.”
Nick groaned. His lips grazed the back of her neck. Kalilah whimpered helplessly.
“I knew you’d love it.” He said against her neck. “Tell me you love it.” Her orgasm was building, and she couldn’t take much more. “Come on. Tell me you love it.”
“I love…” She was almost over the edge.
“I want to hear it,” he insisted.
“I love...” He bit her in the place where her shoulder and neck met and sent her over the edge; he followed. “Ohhh,” she moaned. “I fucking love…” She bit her lip when she realized that she’d almost said you.
She pushed away from his door. He was a little weak from his orgasm. She pulled her panties up and grabbed her stuff. She bolted before he could stop her.
Kalilah closed his door to ensure his privacy and mouthed a silent thank you to the universe when no one was in the hall. Her ever-watchful assistant had gone to lunch. She locked her door and hurried to her bathroom.
Kalilah did her best to make sure she didn’t look freshly fucked and left. This was too intense, and she needed to get away. She shot Andrew and Lena a text from the car and went home.
She took a deep breath to try to calm her nerves. She already knew she loved Nick; knowing that didn’t bother her. This time, she’d almost told him. The last thing she needed was to see those gray eyes looking at her with pity. She had one job to do; he didn’t ask for her love. By the time she made it home, she had a new plan. She would not avoid Nick, but she would put an end to the sex.
Nick adjusted the bowtie for his tuxedo for what felt like the one hundredth time that night. He’d never attended Sinclair Enterprise’s Annual Charity Gala and didn’t know what to expect. He knew it was time for his parents to rub elbows with the other elites to raise money for whichever cause they had picked for the year.
This year was dedicated to public education. His mother’s goal was to raise enough money for the less privileged school districts to purchase new equipment and fund some of their struggling programs. As with any party, his mother went over and beyond and thought of all of the intricate details.
The grand ballroom was simple and elegant. She’d chosen navy blue as the base color with white accents. The room was filled with multiple types of fragrant white flowers encase in brilliant, silver vases. A string quartet provided background music that still allowed people to mingle and have conversations without raising their voices. Impeccably dressed servers floated around with trays laden with hors d’oeuvres and flutes of champagne.