Hate to Lose You

“It’s not bad,” I manage, eyes fluttering half-closed with want. “A little stereotypical.”

He laughs softly against my skin, his breath hot. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” I tilt my head back so I can meet his gaze. His hands reach the hem of my skirt, and he starts to lift it, slowly, an inch at a time. “Billionaire playboy in his mile-high apartment overlooking Beverly Hills? Been there, done that.” I smirk.

“You have done him,” he points out. “You haven’t been here to do it before, though.” Then he leans in to kiss me again, harder this time, more insistent, just as he finishes hiking my skirt up around my waist.

It leaves me exposed, my panties cool in the air conditioning. His hands don’t leave me chilly for long, though, as they glide back to my hipbones. He cups one across my mound, his fingers curling between my thighs so he’s cupping my pussy. He squeezes, gently, just enough to make me gasp into his mouth, and then he draws back, a smile curling across his lips.

“Still as wet for me as ever, huh naughty girl?”

My eyes flutter half-shut, and I arch my hips to grind against his hand, even as I reach back with both of mine to search for the edge of his belt. “Maybe I’m just a little nostalgic for the way your cock feels inside me,” I whisper, one hand finding his belt. I give it a hard tug, and try to undo the button of his pants next.

But then his fingertip presses against the entrance of my pussy, through my already soaked panties, and I inhale sharply, distracted. “I do love that dirty mouth of yours,” he murmurs. “Almost as much as I love your perfect pussy.” His finger circles against my entrance, teasing me, and I buck my hips, unable to stop myself.

His laugh comes as a soft, hot puff of air against the nape of my neck.

“You know,” he whispers. “I do love this view. But I think I’d love it even more as a backdrop for you.” With that, he hooks a thumb under the edge of my panties and pulls them down. His other hand drifts up to my blouse, not bothering to pull it off. He just starts to undo the buttons, one at a time.

I fumble with his pants, my fingertips clumsy because he makes me forget what I’m doing every other moment, his hands all over me—one massaging my mound, my lips, his thumb gently grazing across my clit—and the other toying with my nipples through my bra, thumbing them one after the other, until he finally pulls my shirt open all the way, and pushes my bra up out of the way with one hand.

“There’s my dirty girl,” he whispers, with a nod ahead of us. “See?”

In the reflection of the glass, against the night sky overhead, I can see myself, my skirt hiked around my waist, my bra shoved up so that the push-up action on it pushes my breasts out now, splaying them against the cool windowpane. I look hot as hell, dirty as fuck. Like a bad girl this billionaire is about to fuck right here against the glass.

It turns me on even more. “I want you to fuck me,” I murmur. “Right here.”

He laughs, his chest vibrating against my back. “Trust me, Daisy, I plan to.”

Just then, I manage to finish undoing his pants, and shove them down out of the way, feeling his stiff cock spring up against my ass even before I’ve pushed his boxers off. Through the thin cotton fabric of them, I trace the outline of Bronson’s thick shaft, remembering how long and thick he is, how impossibly full I always felt when he was inside me.

His breath shifts to the nape of my neck once more, his teeth nipping gently at my skin. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk in those heels tomorrow.”

I realize I’m still wearing them. Normally I’d want to kick them off, but the reflection in the glass is too fucking sexy to ignore, the heels really completing the whole office-bad-girl look. Okay, so Bronson might have a point about my fantasies. Office romance is definitely one of them.

I reach back and catch his boxers. Tug them down swiftly, and before they even hit the floor, I catch his cock in both hands and groan a little, my eyes fluttering closed at the feel of him. I love the way his velvety soft skin glides across the thick steely shaft at the core of him. There’s a little bead of pre-cum gathered at his tip, and I swipe my thumb across it to collect it, then bring it up to my lips, popping my thumb into my mouth to suck it as I glance back over my shoulder at him.

He tastes as good as I remember. Salt and heat and a little bit of something extra, a musky flavor that’s all Bronson.

“God you’re even fucking hotter than I remember,” he says, right before he tugs my thumb out of my mouth to replace it with his tongue.

I sink into him, our tongues warring as his fingertips spread my pussy lips wide. He presses his index finger into me slowly, and I groan into his mouth, feeling how slick and wet I am.

“And dirtier,” he adds, wrapping his other hand around my thigh to pull my legs wider apart. He presses me forward, until my chest is pressed against the cool glass, and the cold makes my nipples instantly harden.

But his hands on my pussy are hot, keeping me warm in spite of the chill, and I arch my hips to grind against his palm as his forefinger curls inside me, strokes along my inner wall in a way that makes a shudder run from the crown of my head all the way down to my toes.

“Fuck, Bronson,” I manage, my breath catching in my throat.

“That’s the idea,” he whispers against the side of my neck, before he nips gently at the skin there, his finger stroking in and out of me, slowly at first, but picking up speed. “I’ve missed this,” he says, and I turn my face toward his, catching his mouth with mine to kiss him over my shoulder.

At the same time, I reach back to grip his cock again, one hand at the base of his shaft and stroking back and forth along his length, the other braced against the window to steady myself, because Bronson adds a second finger, pressing it into my pussy alongside his first one, and the sweet ache that accompanies it nearly knocks me off my feet.

“Look at you,” he murmurs into my ear, right before his teeth find the edge of my earlobe, nibbling at it.

I follow his gaze to the window, watch his strong arms wrapped around my naked body, and his hand as he adds a third finger, stretching my pussy enough to make me moan aloud.

“You are so fucking sexy.” His breath is hot against my neck, his teeth sharp as he nips my ear again, the pain a contrast to the pleasure flooding me as he strokes his hand in and out of me, my pussy so wet that it makes a slick sound every time he pulls his fingers out and then thrusts them back in.

Before long, I’m bucking my hips forward, my hand still fisted tight around his cock, but I’m too distracted by pleasure to remember what I was doing, not coordinated enough to stroke him while he’s driving his fingers into my pussy at the same time.

The orgasm starts to build inside me, my breath coming shorter and harder as I near it.

“I’m going to come,” I pant, my eyes half-shut, focused on his hand at my pussy, his other arm wrapped around my chest. I catch his eyes over my shoulder, and they bore into mine, white hot even through the reflection on the glass.

All at once, he withdraws his fingers from me, and I fall forward against the window, gasping in protest.

“Don’t stop,” I say, starting to turn around, wanting to grab his hand and shove it back where it came from.

But he catches my wrists and pins them over my head, against the cool window, so I’m stuck where I am facing it. “Don’t worry.” There’s a grin in his voice that I know all too well. Bronson’s taunting side, the one that loves to seize control. “I’m going to make you come, Daisy. But only when I’m ready for you to.”

Not going to lie—as much as I hate him for not giving me the release I’ve been craving all night, it turns me on even more to see him like this. Commanding, pushy. Ready to take what he wants. He knows it’s this side of him I always craved in bed.

“Bend forward,” he says, and with my hands still pinned over my head, I can hardly disobey. I tilt my hips back toward him, lean over until my chest is pressed to the glass once more,

my hips jutting out behind me.

His hands drop mine and catch my hips instead now, steadying me. At the same time, I feel his thick cock slide between my thighs, thick and stiff as steel. He uses one hand to guide his cock up and down the length of my slit, slowly, teasing. I thrust my hips back against him, but he just pulls back out of the way whenever I do, controlling the motion. Forcing me to go slow.

I’ve never liked going slow.