INICIAR SESIÓNI woke up in his bed with the sun streaming through the windows and his arm wrapped around my waist. For a second I thought it was a dream. Then I felt his cock hard against my ass and I remembered everything. The office. The desk. The way he had fucked me on the kitchen counter when we got home. The way he had carried me to the shower and washed me and then fucked me against the tile wall.I turned over to look at him. He was watching me with those gray eyes. Half asleep. His hair was messy and he had stubble on his jaw and he looked nothing like the polished CEO who ran board meetings."Good morning," he said."Good morning," I said.He kissed me soft and slow. Different from last night. This was gentle. Tender. His hand cupped my cheek and he kissed me like I was something precious and I felt my heart do this stupid little flip."I need to tell you something," he said.My stomach dropped. This was it. This was the part where he said it was a mistake and it could never happen again
The office had gone quiet by seven. I had been staring at the same spreadsheet for forty minutes. when the intercom on my desk crackled."Miss Turner. My office. Bring your notepad."His voice. That low, rough sound that always made my thighs press together under my desk. I had been his executive assistant for eighteen months. I knew that tone. The one that meant he was restless. The one that meant the day had left him wound up tight and looking for something to take apart.I grabbed my tablet and walked the corridor to his corner office. The door was open. He stood at the window with his back to me. His jacket was off. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows showing off those forearms that had no business being that defined on a man who spent most of his days in boardrooms."You wanted to see me, Mr. Hale."He turned around. Gray eyes. Dark hair just starting to go silver at the temples. At forty three the man looked like he had been carved from stone and bad decisions. He looked at th
He took her on the floor of the living room with the boxes still unpacked around them, and it was different from the other nights. It was angry and it was hungry and it was possessive in a way that should have frightened her and did not. He pulled her jeans off and he threw them across the room and he knelt and he ate her like he was claiming her, like he was putting his name on her skin with his tongue. He made her come twice before he even undressed. And then he stood and he shed his clothes and he pulled her up and he pushed her against the wall and he lifted her and he drove into her, hard, and he said, say his name now. Say it and I will stop.She could not have said it if her life depended on it. She said, Edmund. Edmund. Edmund.He fucked her against the wall until the candle guttered and he flickered and she held him, grabbed his shoulders, held him there with her own wanting, and she said, do not you dare leave me. He came with a sound like a man being pulled up out of deep w
She did not wait a week. She did not wait a day. She waited until the sun went down and then she lit the stub of candle and she held the key to her chest and she said his name, and he came up through the floor with his hair wet from a bath he had not taken in a hundred and thirty years and his mouth already smiling.You were quick, he said.I was lonely, she said. That is your fault.He took that as a compliment, she could tell, and he took her into the bedroom and he undressed her like he was unwrapping a present he had been shaking all day. That first night was the night she learned what a Victorian gentleman did with a cravat when he was feeling modern. He tied her wrists to the bedframe with it, not tight, just enough, and he made her watch while he took his time. He kissed down her body like he was reading a book he already loved. He put his mouth on her until she was crying his name into the pillow, and then he pulled back and he said, not yet, my darling, and he made her wait u
She swallowed. The candle flame flickered. What things, she said.He did not answer with words. He stepped closer and his other hand came up and he touched her face, cold fingers against her cheek, and he tilted her chin up and he looked at her for a long moment. His eyes were dark and there was something in them that was not cold at all. Something that was burning.I died in a duel, he said. Over a woman. Do you know what is funny about that? I did not even love her. I was young and I was proud and I was stupid and I let a man goad me into standing in a field at dawn because of a woman I did not even love. I spent my whole life chasing pleasure and I died for a woman I did not love, and I never once got to chase the one thing that mattered.What is that, she said.He leaned down and his mouth was close to her ear and his breath was cold but it was breath, it was real, and she felt it on her neck and she shivered.Being wanted, he said. Truly wanted. Not for my title or my money or my
The floorboards below her answered. And something in the dark began to climb.Mara stood in the middle of her kitchen with the candle shaking in her hand and she told herself that she was a grown woman who did not believe in ghosts. She had paid rent. She had a job. She had voted in the last election. Grown women did not stand barefoot on cold linoleum at two in the morning waiting for a dead man to come up through the floor. But the floorboards kept creaking, one board at a time, like a staircase of sound coming up toward her, and her heart was doing something stupid and fast in her chest.The creaking stopped right under her feet. She looked down. The wood was still. Then the air went cold and it was not the cold of a draft. It was the cold of a hand on the back of her neck. It was the cold of a mouth breathing close to her ear and she spun around and he was there, standing in her kitchen like he had always been there, like he had never left.He looked different in the dark. The can
"Stop here." I said to the taxi driver as we neared a shabby-looking building. It was dark outside and the building looked depressing. Was this really the right place? This couldn't be it, could it? Was this how a motel should look like? This looked more like a haunted building."Lady, are you get
We pulled away and we stared into each other. He caressed my cheeks. “You’re so beautiful.”“You have no idea the dreams I've had of you.”“What kind of dreams?” I chuckled, biting my lips.“Bad ones.” He whispered, tracing kisses all over my shoulders and back. “The kind where you're screaming my
"Gonna fuck this tight ass now," he growled, stretching my cheeks apart. He spit directly onto my puckered hole before pressing the head of his cock against it.“Fuuuck." I screamed, when he shoved his way inside. His hips moved forward, making me whimper into the leather cushion.I was full, so c
His apartment looked like mine but was a little different. He had bookshelves lining one wall. He certainly wasn't lying about loving books.The apartment smelt exactly like him."You can sit down." He nodded toward the couch. "You want tea?""You don't have to–""Tea or coffee?" He asked agai







