Page 14 of Hard and Unprotected

Like clockwork, a soft knock sounded on the door.

I surveyed the scene one last time before striding to the entryway and swinging open that massive slab.

Goddamn.

The air caught in my chest, squeezing my lungs, making it impossible to breathe because Maggie wasgorgeous.

Like me, she wore black. But that was the only thing our outfits had in common. The soft velvet material draped over her tits and hips, showing off every mouthwatering peak and curve, lush assets on display.

Yet the girl looked innocent and sweet. Maybe it was the small bow at the neckline that matched her pink pout. Soft white shoulders peeked out from some sort of cut-outs in the fabric, making my mouth water.

Shit. My dick stiffened in response, like a joystick ready to play. I’d give that slick pussy the ride of her life if the female was willing.

But that’s the thing.

She didn’t have to be willing.

These are my terms. My rules. And it was happening.

“You look very pretty, Maggie,” rumbled my voice casually. No need to let her in on the thoughts raging in my head. No need to make her go running for the hills, screaming like a banshee. I’d have her screaming soon enough, for another reason altogether. “Come in,” was my soothing growl. “Welcome to my home.”

“Thank you,” she said shyly. That voice was low and soft, and she brushed past me, curves jiggling, a hint of flowers tantalizing my nostrils.

But then she stopped, turning to look back at me with wide eyes.

“Wow,” came that awed murmur. “This place is amazing!”

Because my apartment is the bomb. It was the penthouse, and I had it furnished and designed by the very best in the business. A glittery chandelier hung from triple-height ceilings, the white furniture complimenting the view of the Hudson River.

So yeah, it was nice.

But looking at her was even better.

I’ve seen pretty girls before. Hell, I’ve probably had half of the ones in New York alone. But nobody’s ever gotten me this hard, this fast. Fake fiancée or not, Maggie was hot enough to taste over and over again, and I planned on doing everything to make it happen.

Forget that.

It was happening for sure.

It was just a question of when.

Discreetly adjusting my cock, I strolled to her side, taking one elbow gently.

“We’ll be eating in here,” was my low rumble.

And with a graceful nod, Maggie accompanied me to the dining room. But again, she stopped, eyes wide while taking in the spread.

“When you said we were meeting, I figured it was at your parents or at a restaurant. I never thought you’d cook.”

That made me laugh, head thrown back, bronze throat on display.

“Naw sweetheart, I didn’t cook this. My chef did, Mrs. Jones. But if you like it, I’ll tell her.”

Her eyes went wide again.

“You have a chef?” she stammered.

I nodded, amused.