How that simple action was able to get me rock hard when girls at the Obsidian Club could sink to their knees with their tits out and not interest me some nights, I have no goddamn idea.
It was exquisite torture—equal parts pleasure and pain.
As the boss, I had the power to kick the men out of the office, lift Gemma in my arms and toss her painful heels across the floor, then lay her out on my desk.
My lips quirk, imagining her reaction.
Well, whatever she did, she’d soon be purring as my face plunged into her wet pussy.
Gemma Ford would be begging me for more.
We pull up outside her apartment building, and I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I should let her off the hook.
I don’t give a fuck about the hours.
So what do I want?
You want her.In your arms and on your cock.
Christ.I climb out and head into the building before I change my mind.I won’t be doing any of that while we work—
“Drew,” Gemma calls out.
I do a double take and find her sitting in an armchair in the lobby of her building.
What the hell?
“Why are you waiting down here?”I might not be the marrying type, but my mother raised me to pick a woman up at her door.
“This isn’t a date.”Gemma frowns.
Unimpressed, I bunch my lips and stride over, but as she stands, my mood evaporates and my pants tighten.
Holy fucking hell.
She purposely ignored my instructions to wear black, and I’m glad she did.
A red silk sequined gown hugs her body like a glove.The neckline reveals just enough cleavage to leave a little to the imagination and look stylish.The straps are tiny against her olive skin and will be easy to nudge off when...
No.
Down boy.
The only accessories she wears are a pair of striking red stilettos and a black purse.
No jewelry.
“Wow.”I stop and show her my appreciation.“You look stunning.”
Her eyes lift, cheeks turning pink.“Thank you.”
God, she has no idea.
She’s fucking gorgeous.
I place my hand in the small of Gemma’s back and lead her out the door.I resist patting her bottom as she climbs into the limousine and decide I should be given one of those British knighthoods for the effort.
I’ll email Prince William tomorrow.We met once at a polo event in England.He won’t remember me, but if by chance he did, it’s because I was the drunk idiot asking if I could ride one of the zoomie ponies.