He was proud of himself, of his control, his resolution fully in tact. He walked in the bedroom, wearing boxer briefs, and headed to his suitcase. He stopped, just inside the door, his eyes on her, his feet moving and carrying him to the side of the bed, his hand gently lifting the covers slightly until her face was revealed.

Dark hair cradled a sweet face, impossibly perfect in its features, relaxed and angelic in sleep. No hint of her feisty personality shown. In sleep she looked innocent and untouched. He glanced at the clock, his desire to join her in the bed tempting.

He shouldn’t. He should dress and leave her, putting a door or two in between them until she was awake and dressed. But he had never done what he should, the appeal of danger much more interesting. He pulled the sheet back, settling his body over hers, one knee on either side of her body, and leaned forward, pressing his lips to the open skin of her neck. He promised himself that if she stiffened, if she resisted, he would roll off. Stand up. Walk out of this suite and away from this woman.

A moan. The woman moaned, and it was the most carnal sound he had every heard. Her body shifted beneath him, her pelvis lifting up slightly, and he lowered his body to meet it. He moved his lips to her ear, wanting to reassure her. “This isn’t about sex, I promise.”

She giggled, her hands startling him when they touched his thighs, sliding up until they reached the cotton of his underwear and she squeezed, his muscles jumping under her touch. He lifted slightly off of her, taking her touch as permission, and ran a gentle hand down her body, trailing the lines of her bra, her skin soft and smooth beneath his fingers, her breath catching as he slid his hand lower, down the slope of her stomach, before marginally sneaking under the lace hem of her panties.

He should stop. He should slide off of her and curl his body around hers. Turn this situation into a sweet, innocent one. But he couldn’t. For the same reason that he was lying on top of her right now. He. Couldn’t. Stay. Away.

“If this isn’t about sex, what are you doing?” she asked softly, making a sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan.

He moved, shifting his body, feeling the heat of hers as their skin brushed. “It’s about proving you wrong … and pleasing you.” Three nights earlier, at the office, over pizza and sodas, she had confessed to never having experienced an orgasm. That she couldn’t. A ridiculous statement, and one that he intended to disprove.

His fingers continued their sweep, traveling over the tiny material of her panties, running up and down her mound. She moaned and responded immediately, pulling her smooth legs free and wrapping them around his waist. She arched back, pressing her br**sts into him, and he took advantage of the movement, moving his free hand underneath, firmly grabbing her delicious ass, squeezing it hard, and loving the feel of it in his hands. He had been wanting, dreaming, of this ass, of having it in his hands, bent over before him. She gasped, pushing against him, and he released her, sliding his hand up and gripping her long hair, pulling it until her eyes were staring into his.

They caught the morning light, brown embers burning playfully, her mouth curved into a smile, her eyes dancing over his, a challenge in them. She was so different, so full of fire and fun, a combination of the two, and he couldn’t wait to see what happened when those eyes turned carnal.

She thrust up, catching him off guard, and kissed him, her lips confident, pushing past any resistance with one playful swipe of her tongue. He groaned, letting go of all control he’d struggled to maintain, dominating with his mouth until she was flat on the bed beneath him, his arm moving from under her, his body settling atop hers, held up enough by his elbows so as not to crush her.

The kiss was a battle, an initial testing between two warriors, their kiss matching in dips and tastes, until he swept the pieces off the map and claimed her as his own.

He ground against her without thinking, the desire to have her overwhelming his body, his c**k anxious for more, wanting the silky feel of her skin, awaiting a release, greedy for more. She froze against his mouth, and he lifted his head, their eyes locking, and he brushed against her one last time.

Her eyes changed when his arousal made contact, taking the journey from shock to vixen, and she pushed, trying to roll him over. He shook his head, and lowered his head and his hips, reclaiming her with his mouth, his body once against tight against hers.

She squirmed, her hands moving, sliding along the ridges of his stomach. Reaching down, feeling for him, her hands almost there when he captured them. Holding them still, he slid off of her, moving to lie beside her, one of his big hands pinning both of hers above her head.

His eyes took a greedy and unapologetic tour of her body, his free hand leading the way. He pulled down the top of her bra, allowing her br**sts to be free and exposed, pink ni**les erect in the morning air. He ran his hand down and over the top of her panties, letting out a measured breath when he felt the wet silk between her legs. His grin grew, and he teased the area through the panties, running his hand back and forth, applying slight pressure on the fabric, and watching the change in her eyes. Then he slipped a finger past the fabric and inside of her.

He had touched hundreds of women, the inside of a woman’s body as familiar as his own cock. But the feeling of her, the heat inside, wet and tight, gripping his finger with a sucking pull was unlike any else. He could feel his control ebbing, and it was everything he could do not to roll above her and pull out his cock. The feel of her on his finger … it would be heaven to be inside of her.

“Oh my God, Julia,” he breathed. “What am I going to do with you?” It wasn’t a hypothetical question. This was bad; this was worse than the other intern, worse than Kent Broward’s wife. This girl was a poison that could ruin him. She was innocent, inexperienced, yet burned with fire, curiosity, and challenge. His body was ready for the task, pushing against the starting gate, wanting to f**k her senseless and brand her forever as his own. His mind was backing away with hands up, fear and panic gripping his chest.

The vixen beneath him moved, catching him off guard, distracted by his inner turmoil. She ripped her hands free, her eyes flashing with a combination of lust, anger, and hunger. She tried to move, to climb on top of him, but he easily held her off, pressing down on her shoulders and straddling her with his body.

“I want to suck your dick,” she whispered, her voice thick with desire.

He shook his head at me. “This is about you. I want to please you.”

“Having your dick in my mouth is what will please me!” she shot back.

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