Qadir ordered his bodyguards to give them privacy as he and Aimee entered the elevator. The moment the doors closed and they were alone, she turned into his arms with a wicked smile on her lips. By the time they reached his penthouse apartment, his outer coat and jacket were open, his tie undone, his shirt was pulled free and unbuttoned, and his pants half undone.
Aimee’s hands were everywhere and so were his. The pearl buttons running down the back of her gown were undone, and he had one hand cupping her firm breast. He pinched her nipple and she went wild in his arms.
The doors opened into the foyer, and he pushed her cloak off her shoulders, catching it with one hand and draping it over a decorative entrance table. He slid the gown from her shoulders, not breaking their passionate kiss. The material pooled at her feet, leaving her bare except for her lacy panties and the pearl-studded ankle boots.
His breath left him for a moment.
“My beautiful angel,” he murmured.
“You seriously have too many clothes on,” she moaned.
He peeled off his outer coat and tossed it on the table. His shirt joined her dress on the floor. Toeing off his dress shoes, he removed the rest of his clothing until he was standing proudly in front of her. She wrapped her hand around his throbbing cock.
“Sweet desert rose, but you do enjoy torturing me,” he groaned.
“Are you kidding? I haven’t even started yet,” she teased, raising her booted foot with a pointed look.
“I never wear shoes to bed,” she said. She stroked his hard length before releasing him.
He inhaled through gritted teeth and obediently removed one of her boots, then the other. She rewarded him by bringing her small breasts closer to his lips. They were like delicate plums to be suckled, but he only breathed on them as he ran his hands up her thighs to the lacy edge of her panties.
“Now I’m wearing too much,” she panted.
Qadir had never been seduced so skillfully and passionately before. He threaded his fingers beneath the thin straps of her underwear and pulled the lace down her legs until she stepped out of them. He tossed them aside, then retraced the path back to her hips and pulled her forward until he could bury his mouth against the soft curls protecting her lush mound.
“Holy… shit!” she exclaimed, pressing against him and holding on to his head.
He smiled. Aimee was a woman who knew what she wanted and took it without remorse. He loved it. The scent of her desire nearly made him forget his vow to take his pleasure slowly with her. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself to the hilt inside her and relieve this painful throb of need.
He parted her delicate folds, exposing the sensitive nub of her womanhood, and slid his fingers into her hot channel as he captured the nub with his lips. She rocked her hips in time with his tender strokes. Her loud, passionate moans caused the tip of his cock to moisten with desire.
She trembled and tightly clenched her fingers in his hair. He sensed she was about to come and wanted to revel in her sweet release as it washed over his tongue. Her loud cry filled him with triumph. He sucked on the nub, holding her by the buttocks when she struggled to break away from him.
“I can’t… I can’t… Oh… shit, I can.” Her panting breaths filled his ears with the music of her orgasm.
Knowing he was close to coming, he cursed when he couldn’t find his wallet and a condom. Rising to his feet, he decided the risk was worth it. He lifted her up and pressed her back against the wall, pushed his cock through her soft curls, and broke through the thin barrier of her virginity in a single thrust.
She gave a startled yelp of pain. Her wide, dazed eyes held a look of shock that must have matched his own. Her parted lips were swollen from his kisses. He moaned and captured her lips, fighting to stay still while her body adjusted to him.
A shudder ran through him when her feminine depths pulsed around him. She moved her hips, as if testing to see if there would be more pain. She relaxed her fingers, her nails no longer biting into the flesh of his shoulders, and she began to rock. He broke their kiss and buried his head against her shoulder.
“Aimee,” he gritted.
“Oh, that’s it. I love the feel of you inside me,” she groaned, wrapping her arms around his head and holding him as she began to move faster.
Qadir braced his legs to keep from melting into the ground, and he gripped Aimee’s thighs tighter. He knew she would carry the imprint of his fingers on her flesh tomorrow, but he couldn’t help it. The feel of her silky channel stroking his hard cock was driving him out of his mind.
He was breathing heavily and began rocking with her. Ricocheting through him was the knowledge that this passionate woman in his arms was his—all his. She had never given this passion to anyone else. He pushed in as deeply as he could go and came with an intensity that left him reeling. He shuddered and gasped.
A moment passed with only their breathing breaking the silence, and it was wonderful.
“Aimee,” he tenderly murmured. “We need to talk about what just happened.”
“We can talk later. I want to do this again,” she replied with a happy sigh.
Aimee carefully slipped from Qadir’s embrace, tucking her warm pillow under his arm. She smiled tenderly and blew him a kiss. She was sure that if she kissed his skin and woke him up, she would never make it to work.
She rifled through his walk-in closet, finding a pair of workout pants with an elastic waist and tie string, a long-sleeve shirt, a black cashmere sweater, and a pair of thick socks. She dressed in the closet, chuckling as the oversized clothes made her normal ones appear form-fitting.
After finger-combing her tangled hair, she braided and wound it up, tucking the ends under the braid to hold it until she could retrieve the hairpins in her pocketbook. Peering into the bedroom, she saw Qadir was still sleeping deeply.
Blowing him another kiss, she tiptoed out of the bedroom. First she went for her hairpins, but in minutes, she had folded and stacked Qadir’s discarded clothing on the foyer table and written a brief note to him, leaving it on top of the pile.
Using her cloak as a makeshift bag that enclosed her dress and pocketbook, she gathered her belongings into her arms, slipped her feet into her boots, and was about to step into the private elevator when she had a thought that made her pause. Slipping out of the building would be a little trickier than getting in had been. She knew that there would be bodyguards everywhere. The last thing she wanted to do was have them disturb Qadir.
Biting her lip, she figured there must be an emergency exit or a servants’ elevator. A sudden memory made her smile with excitement. Her friend, Lucy, had worked as a housekeeper for a ritzy client in a private penthouse apartment. The cook had haughtily informed Lucy that she should never use the private elevator. Instead, Lucy was shown how to enter the apartment via a set of stairs that connected the floor below the penthouse to the kitchen.
Aimee located the kitchen and scanned it, eventually locating the small, red exit sign over a door that looked like it went into a pantry. Opening the door, she saw a narrow entranceway with a keypad. It would be alarm activated.
She grinned when she saw that whoever used it last had messy fingers. A thick paste of flour coated the keys that had been pressed first and more lightly dusted the keys pressed last. She pressed the sequence, hoping it was the right combination. The light turned green and the familiar click of an electronic lock opening made her grin.
“Thank you, messy fingers!” she breathed.
She pulled the door open, stepped out into the stairwell, and closed the door behind her, making sure it was locked before she headed down the stairs. One floor down, she came to another keypad. Punching in the same code, she grinned when the light turned green. She stepped into the hallway across from a service elevator.
Minutes later, she exited the building through the employee entrance and was embraced by the cold. Early morning delivery trucks were beginning their runs. Aimee clutched her bundle of belongings, lightly ran after one of the trucks that was pulling away from the kitchen area, and jumped onto the back, grasping the handle for support. Her ride wasn’t much different from those of the firefighters or garage guys.
The cold chased away the fog in her brain and she breathed in the mixture of early morning air and city stench. This was her world, and she loved it! There was only one thing she loved more—Qadir!
Three different produce trucks and forty minutes later, Aimee punched in the code to Becker’s Courier Service. She gathered a change of clothes from her locker, showered, dressed, and tried to get out as many wrinkles as possible from the clothes Polly had lent her before hanging them up.
She retrieved her skateboard, courier bag, and the envelope of money containing her bonus and her share of the winnings from the bet. She tucked the envelope into the front pocket of her jeans as she exited through the back door of the building. There were a few things she needed to do before the rest of the crew arrived and another busy work day began.