The Billionaire's Intern - Part 4. Maisey Yates
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and sucked hard, the action splintering the tension, breaking it off into pieces that she was sure she could never put back together, rivers of pleasure rushing through the cracks, filling her, moving through her in waves.
She was breathing hard, utterly spent and exhausted, her forehead damp with sweat. He leaned forward and pressed the intercom again. “Keep driving until I say stop,” he said, moving his hand away, bringing his attention back to her. “I won’t have anything interrupting me.”
He reached down, undoing the closure on his pants, freeing his hard erection before reaching into his pocket and producing his wallet.
He quickly rolled a condom on and moved back to her, teasing the entrance to her body with the blunt head of his erection. He gripped her hips and pulled her forward, his thick length entering her slowly, inch by agonizing inch. He was still fully clothed, his tie tight, knotted at the base of his throat, even while he was buried in her to the hilt.
He pulled away and thrust back into her, hard, pulling her against him as he moved to her. She looked up at him, his blue eyes blazing into hers, his cock hard inside her, his hands firm on her body. It was too much. She closed her eyes and turned her head away. He leaned in, gripping her chin, his gloved fingers digging into her skin. “Look at me, Addison. I will not allow you to pretend it’s another man inside you. I will not allow you to wish me away. I’m the man you said you wanted. This is me. With nothing, no control, no civility. With all my sins. All my sickness. You wanted me to be this, to uncover this. And you’ll know that I’m the man who’s having you.”
She opened her eyes again, looked at him. “I don’t want anyone else,” she said, her words a gasp.
“Say it again.”
“I don’t want anyone else,” she repeated, steadier this time.
“My name.”
“Logan, I don’t want anyone else.”
He froze above her, his erection pulsing inside her, the tendons on his neck standing out as he gave himself over to his own pleasure. The sight of that, of this powerful man, covered in the markings of civilization, giving himself over wholly to the beast inside her, sent her over the edge, her own climax tearing through her as he spent himself inside her.
He moved away from her, tugging off the condom and shoving it into the small trash compartment built into the limo. Then he tucked himself back into his pants. And the feral, dangerous man was gone.
At least, some people would think so.
But she knew better.
Of course, she was still lying on her back recovering from two hard orgasms in a row, her panties Lord knew where in the car.
She sat up, her head spinning.
“You will not leave me again,” he said, his voice hard. Grim. Betraying more of what he felt than anything that had come before it.
“I won’t,” she said.
And she knew, right then, that she’d made a much deeper pact in her soul than she’d spoken with words.
Chapter Fourteen
For the first time in four years, putting on shoes had been easy that morning.
And the way a day was going to go always started with shoes.
So as days went, he was already feeling much more optimistic than usual.
Add to that, he’d woken up next to Addison. In bed. He hadn’t slept in a bed all through the night since before the island.
Which had maybe helped with the shoes. It had certainly increased the feeling of satisfaction, the feeling of certainty that was running deep inside him.
It was such a foreign feeling. The ground seemed solid, rather than a shifting, turning wave beneath his feet.
He stood from behind his desk and tugged back the curtain, looking down at the street below. Nothing tilted. His head didn’t swim.
Either he was more in control of himself, or Addison’s touch had gone a long way toward healing him. Potentially both.
Last night had been perfect. In that messed-up way perfection seemed to take shape in his life.
She’d come back with him. He’d gone out and gotten her, and she’d come back with him.
She’d seen all of him. Every sick piece of himself. Every dark, twisted secret that lurked in the corners of his soul.
If he even had a soul. That was up for debate.
But he wasn’t all that concerned with semantics. The fact was, he had Addison with him. Last night…last night he’d lost control in her…and gained some outside of that. He’d gone out. He’d gone after her. He’d held himself together.
And when the sun rose this morning, it hadn’t dissolved.
Yes, he’d purposed not to have her again. Not to use her that way because it was making him forget—and he couldn’t afford to forget. But he also had to make this speech, and without her, without this, he didn’t think he could.
The living would have to take precedence over guilt for the dead. For now.
The door to his office opened and Addison walked in, cream-colored dress molded to her slender curves. She had red lipstick on, which she had to know drove him crazy. Made him hard. Made him want to put her on the desk and continue on when where they’d left off.
Because she was his. And the fact that she’d come back with him last night proved that.
He shouldn’t want it. He shouldn’t want her. But he did.
More than that, he needed her. Which was why he’d tried to push her away last night. Because need was too dangerous. Because need was something he couldn’t afford, and yet somehow, needing her specifically offered more control instead of less.
Until they came together…then it all burned away. But perhaps that was the secret. To spend all his wild, reckless desire on her at night made him more of a man during the day.
He’d gone out last night in that suit, covered as much as possible, insulating himself from the world, disguising himself as a civilized man, to prove he could. Because he’d had to go and get her.
And then he’d stripped it all off for her. Because she’d demanded it, and he could give her no less than what she demanded.
It would have been better if he’d let her go. Better for her. But in the end, he was a bastard. And his own needs won out.
He curled his hands into fists, the need to press his thumb to her throat and feel her pulse almost overwhelming. Confirming what he already knew about himself.
He took a sharp breath. “Why do you look so self-satisfied?” he asked.
“Because I am,” she said. “Multiple climaxes will do that to a girl. And I was really enjoying going over the plans for the brownstone property. Very cool.”
“Cool. My hotel is cool.”
“B and B, Mr. Black, get that terminology right.”
“That’s your interest is it? Bed-and-breakfasts?”
“More so than gigantic hotels, yes.”
“What about them do you like?”
She looked down at the folder in her hand. “I haven’t given it much thought, actually. I confess I wasn’t really planning on using my degree. Which is…. I realize that doesn’t make very much sense.”
“Well, think it through. Why do you like B and Bs?”
A small smile curved her lips. “What I really like is the homey element to them. I like the idea of a smaller place. Specific in its decor, rather than generic. And food. Sharing