I nod.
He runs his fingertips over my collarbones. "Turn around."
He positions me so I'm facing the elevator doors.
We have another ten floors to go. Someone could see me. All of me.
His chest presses against my back. His crotch presses against my ass.
He's hard, but he's so patient about bringing his hands to my stomach and tracing the line of my zipper. His fingers find my nipple and tease mercilessly.
I stare out the glass doors. There isn't a single part of me that wants him to stop. How can I be willing to risk so much for a man? For my sexual release?
There's something about Nick. I want to submit to him. I want to be under his control.
His lips press against my neck. He kisses me as he toys with my nipples. My hips shift of their own accord. My body is desperate for him.
"Put your hands on the wall." He motions to the spot next to the elevator door.
We're almost there. Five floors. There's someone on this floor, at the end of the hallway.
They turn towards us, but there's no way to tell if they can see.
I bring my hands to the wall. They're so clammy that they slide right off the glass.
I wipe them on my dress and try again. Better.
My legs shake as Nick slips his hands under my dress, over my ass. His fingers skim the outside of my panties.
"You're dripping," he groans.
Again, I shift my hips, a desperate attempt to feel more of him.
He pulls his hand away. I sigh from the loss of touch.
"You do what I say, when I say it. Not before. Not after." He drags his fingertips up my thighs, stopping at the top of my stockings to play with the lace.
I fight my desire to press my body against his.
"What if I want you to stop? If something hurts or—"
"We use a code." His palm presses against the outside of my panties. "A traffic light. Red means stop. Yellow means slow down. Green means go."
He pushes my thong out of the way and slips a finger inside me.
I gasp, my hand struggling to keep its hold on the wall.
One floor to the penthouse.
Finally, the elevator stops at the top floor. The doors open but Nick doesn't move.
When his teeth sink into my shoulder, I lose interest in the elevator. In anything except his body against mine.
He slides another finger inside me. Deeper and deeper until it's so much it hurts.
I cry out.
"Yellow?" he asks.
"Yellow."
His touch softens. It's still intense but not painfully so.
I gasp as he pulls his hands away. He rolls my dress over my thighs then pulls my thong to my knees.
I'm completely exposed to him.
My cheeks flush.
He lets out a low groan of approval. "You're beautiful."
"Me or my cunt?"
"Both." He teases me with his fingertip. "I like your wit, but not when we're doing this. I don't want to feel any defenses. If you're nervous, tell me you're nervous."
"Okay." My stomach flip-flops. Somehow, that promise feels more exposing than having my ass in the air.
"Get smart about sex again and you go to bed wanting again. Understand?"
"Yes."
His teasing is merciless.
Pleasure spreads through my body. He's not touching me properly. I need him to touch me properly.
My hips shift an inch, pushing his finger inside me.
He pulls his hand back. "You like being exposed to me."
"Yes."
"You want to come on my hand?"
My sex clenches. God, yes. "Yes."
"Then stay still."
He teases me again, and again, and again. It takes every ounce of strength I have not to force him deeper.
I'm so wound up, so desperate to feel him properly.
I groan. "Nick. Please."
He scrapes his teeth against my shoulder. "Please what?"
"Fuck me."
"Soon." He slides a finger inside me.
I sigh with relief.
His movements are rough, aggressive. He scrapes his nails against my hips as he goes deeper and harder.
My eyelids press together. My breath goes erratic. Nick is so good at this. He's so precise. And the way he's groaning—
Pressure builds between my legs. I moan in ecstasy. Almost there.
It takes great concentration to stay still. I want so badly to rock my hips so he's deeper inside me.
I need more. I need it faster.
I need to come.
He brings his lips to my neck as he finger-fucks me. His kiss is as hard and aggressive as his hand.
I lean into his body, trying my best to melt. It's not the easiest position. My legs shake. My hands threaten to slip.
But I'm on the edge. I can't do anything that might make him stop.
His strokes push me closer. Almost. I squeeze the glass between my fingers.
There. My sex pulses as I come. Pleasure spreads out through my legs. It's too much to take. My arms fall to my sides. My knees buckle.
Nick catches me, scooping me into his arms. He carries me the way he did in San Francisco.
We move into the penthouse apartment. It's too dark to make out the details. I can only sense the massive size of the place. The living room must be a thousand square feet. There are windows everywhere. They look out on the Hudson River.
Nick lays me on a plush leather couch. He sits next to me, slides my legs into his lap, and gently removes my glasses.
Things get blurry, but he's close enough that I can make out his expression. He's still patient.
"Can I get you anything?" His fingertips trail over the inside of my knee.
"No thank you." My cheeks flush. It's alarming how calm he is.
"I picked up a bottle of rum and another of Diet Coke."
My stomach flutters. It's soda, not a love letter. I tell my muscles to relax, but the anticipation makes it impossible. "Okay."
He slides my legs off him as he rises to his feet. My dress is halfway off so I pull it over my head and leave it a heap on the floor.
It served its purpose.
Now, it's useless.
Nick returns with two drinks. He sets them on the coffee table and sits next to me.
I push myself up and turn my body towards his.
He's so close.
Desire spreads over his face as he looks me up and down. He reaches for me and runs his thumb over my lower lip.
My eyes flutter closed. I turn towards the windows, overwhelmed by the intimacy of his touch.
His thumb trails down my chin, his palm resting on my cheek.
He kisses me, sucking on my lower lip with that same precision.
I'm greedy about exploring his mouth. Whiskey and Nick. It's an intoxicating combination. More intimate than him finger-fucking me in an elevator. More intimate than anything I've ever felt.
I sigh into his mouth, melting against his body.
Our kiss breaks. He runs his hand through my hair, his eyes focused intently on me. I shift closer, trailing my hands up his thigh to feel his erection.
How can he be patient when he's this fucking hard?
He grabs my hand and brings it back to my side. "You don't touch me unless I give you permission."
"You don't like it?"
He answers by pinching my nipple. He does it again. Harder. Harder. Then hard enough I cry out.
His touch softens. He draws circles around me with his thumb. "It's flattering that you're eager, but it's not going to get you anywhere."
"Okay." I relax into his touch. My eyes flutter closed as he moves to my other nipple, teasing, then pinching.
Every motion of his hands sends a pang of desire to my core.
I lose track of my breath. My body is humming with pleasure. I'm so desperate it hurts. "Please."
"How is your back?"
"Doesn't hurt at all."
r />
He stands, offering his hand. I follow him in a room adorned with string lights. They cast the room in a soft white glow, almost like candlelight.
He motions for me to sit on the purple sheets. They're nice, silk, soft and sleek like they're new.
"For me?" I ask.
He nods like it's normal to buy a girl sheets in her favorite color.
He shuts the door behind him and turns his attention to me. "Lie on your back and put your hands over your head. I'm going to bind your wrists."
A rush of anticipation passes though me. He's going to tie me up?
Nerves build in my stomach. I shift so I'm all the way on the bed, lie back, and pull my arms over my head.
Nick unknots his tie. He peels off his suit jacket and undoes the top two buttons of his shirt.
It takes everything I have not to pounce and press my hands against his skin.
He pulls something from under the bed. It's a restraint system with silver buckles and supple leather straps. It's anchored somewhere beneath the mattress. It will put me totally at his mercy.
Nick sits next to me. He looks down at me, watching my expression as he teases my nipples. Softly, then harder, then hard enough to make me whimper.
"Nick." I grab his thigh and sink my fingers into it. "Please. Please fuck me."
"Arms over your head."
I follow his command. He buckles the straps of the restraints so they're secure around my wrists.
I flex my forearms to test their strength. Tight enough I can't move but not enough to cut off my circulation. Not enough to make me feel trapped.
He pulls something else from the bed—a wedge-shaped pillow, also purple, about a foot high and two feet wide.