Page 33 of Selfish Suit

He’s not amused at all.

He briefly releases his right hand from my hip and wipes the cheek where Nolan left a kiss on my skin. Then he grips me once more.

“Don’t try to change the subject on me.” He speaks slowly. “If he had tried to fuck you in my condo, would you have let him?”

“I…” The bluntness of his question catches me off guard.

“Do I need to repeat my question?”

I shake my head.

“No, you wouldn’t have let him fuck you, or no, I don’t need to repeat my question?”

“Both.”

“I wasn’t aware you were in a relationship.”

Me either…“So, staying with you does have strings attached?”

“I’m just saying I didn’t know you had a boyfriend—a shitty one at that.”

“What would you know about good relationships?” I hiss. “None of your bios mention anything about ever being married or engaged.”

“I’m really impressed with your way of trying to skirt around the goddamn issue here,” he says. “It’s not going to work, but for the record, I’m flattered that you’re researching me. You might actually learn something.”

He pulls me even closer against his body, trapping me with no space to move. “Your ex-boyfriend is not welcome to come up here again, and if the guest isn’t related to you or a close female friend, I don’t ever want to walk in on you with another man again.”

“Hope you’ll extend me the same courtesy when it comes to your one-night stands.”

“I haven’t slept with anyone in over nine months.”

“Yes, well…” I try not to stare too deep into his eyes, but I can’t help it. “I won’t have male company again, and?—”

“You’ll also tell him to fuck off because someone else has touched you.” His hand slides under my dress, trailing up my thigh with purpose. “Because you’ve found someone else who makes you come so hard you forget your own name.”

His mouth brushes against my neck—hot, possessive, unhurried.

“And if I don’t?”

As if that’s the permission he’s waiting for, he grabs a fistful of my ass and sinks his teeth into my skin, then captures my mouth with his. The kiss is rough, full of heat and frustration, dragging every unspoken moment between us into one collision. I moan against his tongue as he deepens the kiss, pinning me tighter between the door and his body.

I wrap one leg around his waist, desperate for friction, and he slides his hand between my thighs—fingers slipping inside me like he already knows the shape of my body. He strokes me with precision, his other hand bracing my hip as I grind against him, breath catching with every movement.

“If you keep fucking with me—” he growls into my mouth, “I’ll show you who you really belong to…”

I come hard—shaking, gasping, unraveling against him—gripping his shoulders like I need something to hold me together. And he doesn't stop. He keeps me right there, held in place, grounded by his strength as the orgasm rips through me.

He watches me fall apart, watches the last bit of control drain from my body as I cling to him, trembling.

When I finally catch my breath, he lets his fingers slide out slowly, lifting them to his mouth without breaking eye contact. He tastes me, slow and deliberate.

“You’re done with him,” he says it as a statement, not a question. “End it.”

“Yes…”

“Good.” He releases me and steps back, adjusting his shirt collar like nothing just happened. “See you at four-thirty in the morning.”

THE CEO

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