It’s Just Business

I’m sure Vince hurries as much as is humanly possible, but I’m not sure we’re going to make it. I need to be inside Raven. Now.All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

Fuck, I’ve wanted her from the second that apartment door opened, and as the night went on, all I could wonder was what was hiding under that silver dress.

As I kiss her, I try to think of anything other than how her hands feel on me and how fucking hot those small moans are that she gives me when I break away for a moment of air.

I settle on the night. On the PR. On how fucking perfect it went.

She was magnificent tonight. There were curious glances and whispers, of course, but if she noticed, she didn’t let it show. She was confident, beautiful, proud to be with me, and spoke eloquently to every person she interacted with. She has utterly bewitched me, but tonight, she cast a spell on the entire room. It was glorious, and I nearly had to pinch myself every time I remembered that she is mine.

She is mine. In every way.

Thankfully, Vince somehow cuts through the city traffic and gets us to my penthouse in record time. I don’t wait for him to open the car door. There’s no time for that. I throw it open, help Raven from the car, and virtually carry her toward my private elevator.

It takes twenty-three seconds to get to my floor at the top of the building, two seconds for the door to unlock, and one more to slam it shut behind us.

“Get that dress off or I’m going to tear it off,” I warn her, my breath coming in pants that have nothing to do with my frantic need to get Raven alone and everything to do with my tenuous hold on my ever-present desire for this woman.

I yank at my tie, needing it gone so I can breathe. I toss it… somewhere… and start stripping. First, my jacket, which I drop to the floor, not caring about designer labels or expensive fabrics. Then, the buttons on my shirt.

Meanwhile, I keep an eye on Raven who, rather than do what I said, is watching me as heat fills her green eyes.

“Darling.” My voice is a low rumble.

She spins, giving me her back as she struts her way to the living room. She’s enjoying this, I realize, and I groan, my cock twitching behind my zipper.

“Aren’t you going to offer me a drink, Mr. Sharpe?” she teases, licking her lips as though parched. “It’s the polite thing to do when a guest comes over.” She can’t even pretend to not want the same thing as her chest rises and falls with her catching her breath.

“You’re not a guest. And I know you’re as much in need as I am.”

Instead, she sinks to the couch, sitting down in the middle of the cushions. She crosses her legs at the knee and stretches her arms out along the back, the pose highlighting her tits, waist, and hips. But also… her smile.

“You look good on my couch,” I tell her, coming closer. My shirt falls to the floor, and I undo my belt first, the metal clanging loudly in the quiet room and then, the leather swooshing through the belt loops.

There’s a sparkle in her eyes as she glances at the belt in my hands, and her chest begins rising and falling faster. I fold it in half, letting the leather loop dangle at my side. “Something interesting, Darling?”

Her eyes lift to mine again. “Tonight was intoxicating. And for the first time, I felt like I belonged.”

“You do belong,” I assure her.

“I felt powerful.” Her words are measured, as though she’s tasting them as they pass over her lips. “Next to you… all of them knowing that I’m with you,” she adds.

My grin is evil. “You are powerful. And beautiful… and sexy… and brilliant.” I step closer to her with every word, my eyes locked on her, and she watches my approach, not moving so much as a muscle.

“Take your pants off, Dylan.”

It’s an order. There’s no mistaking the commanding tone, and I arch a brow, considering her. She doesn’t blink, but her gaze drops to my dick before returning to mine, testing me, testing herself… her power.

A grin slips across my face. I make a silent plea that she’ll spread her legs and tell me what to do next.

Okay, I can play along with this. She has handed me power over her body countless times, and perhaps a bit of turnabout is fair play. Raven wants to experience her power? She can do that with me.

I drop the belt to the table, undoing my slacks and toeing off my shoes. When my pants fall to the ground, Raven purrs, “Good boy.” I can’t help but to smirk. I have never been called that. “Those too.” She motions, and the blush rises to her cheeks.

I want to tell her she’s doing well, but I bite my tongue, letting her have her fun for the moment.

I’m not shy, especially when Raven sounds so eager to see me. I slip my thumbs into my waistband and push the fabric down my legs, freeing myself. I’m rock-hard, standing up against my belly, and I instinctively grip myself, giving my length a tight stroke. “Like what you see?”

Raven uncrosses and recrosses her legs the other way, clenching her thighs. She’s as turned on as I am.

I stroke myself once and then move even closer. I want to tell her to open her mouth. I want her hands on me, her body on mine so she can feel what she does to me.

I grit my teeth, not doing any of those things by the barest grip on my control. Precum leaks from the tip of my cock as I stroke myself again, waiting for her to act on the hunger in her eyes. Leaning forward, she keeps her gaze locked with mine until the tip of her finger rests on the head of my cock and she moans.

She licks the salty fluid from her finger delicately. “Mmm,” she moans, and another drop slides down my shaft. Her smile is beautifully wicked.

She uncrosses her legs once more, standing this time, but rather than coming to me, she slips the straps of her dress from her shoulders. A quick zip at her side and a small swaying wiggle, and the dress falls to her feet, much the same way I want to.

She’s gorgeous. She’s sexy. She’s mine.

Her breasts are free already, having been supported by some invisible magic of the dress, and her nipples are hardened nubs begging for my mouth. Her panties consist of a scrap of flesh-colored silk, which she slips off easily, and she doesn’t have on stockings this time, so she’s finally nude before me.

“Raven,” I groan.

She shudders but stays steadfast in her mission of driving me to madness. “Lie down on the couch,” she purrs, adding, “Sir,” when my bottom lip drops.

Nodding with a smirk, I make quick work of stretching out along the length of the couch and reach out for her, intending to guide her to my cock.

But she doesn’t do that. She moves up by my head, shocking me. “I’m going to sit on your face like it’s my throne, and you’re going to lick my pussy until I tell you to stop.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I say, wanting it to sound teasing, but it comes out as a strangled plea. Fuck. This woman does something to me. I am weak for her.

Raven throws a leg over me, kneeling on the couch with her knees at my sides and her feet near my shoulders. Her position pins my arms, making them useless to touch her but also making me unable to touch myself. Her pussy hovers just above my mouth. I can smell her arousal. Fuck, I can nearly taste it in the air between us. And her pretty pussy lips are glossy with it.

She teases me, lowering herself by millimeters while my tongue waits for her, desperately flicking at nothingness so that as soon as she’s close enough, I can touch her.

Finally, she lowers herself to my mouth, and I lick her, grateful for a taste of her heaven and moaning at the deliciousness. I lick her as if my life depends on it because she is my life. After so many times, I know what she enjoys most, and I nibble along her lips, press soft kisses over her clit, and finally, fuck her with my stiffened tongue.

When I do something she particularly likes, she rewards me with a stroke of her soft hand and teasing fingers along my shaft. But it’s always just one touch, enough to drive me wild but not to get me to the edge, though I can feel the wetness of my precum puddling on my stomach.

She rides my face, her arousal covering my mouth as her body trembles. I can feel her climbing, getting closer and closer to coming, and I double my efforts, needing to suffocate in her, wanting to drown in her. Suddenly, she pitches forward, her breath whispering over my sensitive cock as she cries out, coming hard. And screaming my name. My name.

When the shudders subside the slightest bit, I use the opportunity of her momentary blissful distraction to free my arms. I grip her hips, pulling her to my mouth even tighter.

“Dylan,” she gasps.

“Mine,” I growl against her, flicking my tongue over her clit again. She’s barely come down and she can go again. I’ve done it to her before—one good orgasm turning into a second earth-shattering one if I work her back up quickly enough.

Her moan turns into a grunt as her hips buck, not pushing me away but chasing my tongue for more. I pull away for a split second to keep myself from coming.

I’m about to. From licking her, having her on my face, and her infrequent, glancing touches, I’m about to come. And she knows it. This is the power she has over me.

She wraps her finger and thumb around me again, squeezing tightly, and I hiss.

My toes are curled, digging into the leather, my abs are clenched, and my balls are pulled up tight to my body in preparation for the one thing I’m not ready to do. I need more of her.

I need her to come. Now. Because I can’t hold back. I can’t.

I suck her clit into my mouth and push two fingers inside her, thankful to have my hands free now. I hit the spot that I know triggers her nearly instantly, and I don’t let up. She squirms, overwhelmed with the onslaught, and I keep torturing her with pleasure.

Her breath catches, her body goes tight, and then she detonates. Her hips drop another inch as her knees give way, her pussy presses to my mouth, and her cries echo through the room. Through it all, I somehow manage not to come yet.

But she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t beg me to fuck her like I need her to do, so I keep going until she breathlessly pulls herself away. “Stop, stop, stop…” she gasps out between heavy pants.

I help her sit up and then stand on trembling legs. “Now what?” I demand, needing my next instruction like I need air. It had better fucking be to slam my cock into her pussy or her mouth, or I might die.

“Fuck me, Dylan. Please… fuck me.”

As she says it, she throws her leg back over me, mounting me this time with her pussy centered over my cock. She slides down my length, impaling herself on me and gasping as I stretch her.

“Fuck,” I groan at the feeling of her hot, velvety walls gripping me so tightly.

I hold her hips and buck up into her for a few strokes while she gets her bearings, but then she pushes on my chest. “Let me ride you. I’m in charge, remember?”

She’s going to kill me. Can you die from unreleased pleasure? I’m about to find out because she lifts and lowers herself onto my cock slowly, grinding at my base before starting her next stroke.

Her tits bounce in front of me, and her ass claps down onto my thighs loudly with every stroke.

My body is on fire for this woman, especially when she pins me with sex-crazed eyes and demands, “Whose are you?”

“Yours,” I answer, forcing the word through gritted teeth. “I’m yours, Darling.”

“Say my name.” Her head falls back, her hair falling down her back in a sheet, and her nails dig into my chest, likely leaving half-moon shapes on my skin, and I arch into it, welcoming her mark.

I reach up, gripping the back of her head and forcing her gaze back to me. Looking deep into her eyes, I answer, “Raven, I’m yours. And you are mine.” I add on the part I need her to know, to feel down to her soul. Her lashes flutter as her eyes try to roll back in her head. She’s close again, so fucking close to coming on my cock this time.

Unbidden, I say, “I love you.”

Her movements go jerky as she loses the rhythm. Her eyes pop open, pinning me for a split second as she realizes what I’ve said, and then she falls off the edge into bliss.

Her body quakes over me as she collapses down to kiss me desperately. Amid the kisses, she gasps, “I love you too.”

At her words, my cock gives one last twitch before I explode, my orgasm rocking through me.

My vision blacks out for a moment, and the only sound I hear is Raven crying out her own release, but as the orgasms fade away, we return, panting and spent. Raven collapses onto me, boneless, and I wrap my arms around her, smoothing her hair back from her face as we rearrange ourselves to lie together on the couch.

She nuzzles into my chest, placing a tender kiss there. She’s quiet for a moment, and I can nearly hear her thoughts running through her mind.

Wanting to reassure her that I absolutely meant every word of what I said in the heat of the moment, I say, “You should move in.”

She raises up, her eyes wide as she stares at me like I suggested moving to Mars, not my penthouse. I smile back, encouraging her to say yes, and she tilts her head. “Well, you do have a bedroom the size of my entire apartment, a bathtub I could swim in, and that coffee maker… ugh, to die for.” With that, she lies back down, snuggling into me like she’s weighing her options.

I laugh lightly. “The coffee maker? That’s the perk of living here? Not the twenty-four, seven dick on demand?”

I feel her nod against my chest as she agrees, “It is a very nice dick.”

“Nice?” I bite out, teasing her. “I’ll show you nice.” She laughs, wiggling wildly as I smack her ass, the sound echoing loudly. I don’t know how I have any energy left in me after tonight, let alone the last forty-eight hours. But this is right. Everything about her is right. She is my one and only. I think I knew that the moment I met her. I just wasn’t ready to admit that I needed her.

Her finger traces shapes on my chest, and more seriously, she says, “We’re moving fast.”

“When you know, you know,” I argue. “Think of it, we can wake up every morning, fuck in our bed, go to work together, make tons of money, fuck on my desk, come home, eat dinner, and fuck anywhere we damn well please.”

“Interesting counterproposal,” she says. I can hear the smirk in her tone. She sighs. “You’re gonna think this is stupid, but I’m kinda old-fashioned. I don’t think I can live with someone until marriage is on the table.”

My heart stops in my chest. I’m not getting married. Ever.

I drew that line, not in the sand, but in concrete the day I heard Olivia and Evan fucking behind my back. Yes, Raven is different. We are different. But marriage is… marriage.

“I’m not rushing that,” Raven says, sensing my shift in mood. “If it’s too fast to move in, it’s definitely too fast for marriage. But that’s how…”

She keeps talking, but my mind has been ripped to the past, filled with memories. Not of Olivia or Evan, but of Raven. Her smiles, her strength, her poise in the face of adversity, her intelligence, her willingness to sacrifice herself for me, her love. And in the same flashes of memory, I see my own growth, the way she’s cracked through the stone walls around my heart and I’ve let her in, giving her the deep, dark, ugly parts and trusting that she won’t run from them or from me. She makes me a better man, and she is a better woman than Olivia could’ve ever been.

Because she’s my Raven. There is no other. There could never be anyone like her. She was meant to be mine, and I was meant to be hers. I want her here. No, I need her here. If marrying her is what she wants, I’ll do it. Because what I want is her.

“Marry me.”

“What?” she exclaims, lifting up once again. Her green eyes are wide and wild, but there’s the tiniest glimmer of hope hiding deep there. I can see it, can feel her excitement even as she doesn’t fully risk believing me.

“Raven, I love you,” I start and then freeze. I chuckle at myself. “I’m not sure what I’m going to say since I didn’t plan this. That’s very unlike me, so I’m gonna speak from the heart.”

She nods, tears threatening to spill.

“I love you. I didn’t mean to fall for you. It was supposed to be business, nothing more, but it could never be just business with you. You intrigued me that first day, you impressed me at the fundraiser, you amaze me with how your mind works at the office, and you challenge me to see every day, not as a competition for who has the most money and power, but as a gift. You have healed scars on my heart and in my soul that I thought I would carry until the day I died as a lonely, old, bitter bastard. And you ask for nothing in return. You want to make your own way, stand on your own merits, of which there are many, and be seen as the beautiful, strong woman you have always been and will always be. I don’t want to get in the way of that. I want to stand by your side and witness you conquer the world, loving you every step of the way. I want you beside me. I want the world to know you’re mine. Marriage makes sense. So, Raven Hill, will you marry me?”

Tears started tracking down her face right about the time I repeated, ‘I love you’, and they’re flowing freely now.

“It’s too fast, and…”

My heart stutters to a stop as I consider that she might say no, or at least no for right now. She continues as panic runs through me, “And I don’t care what anyone thinks. I care about you, I care about us, and this” —she points at herself and then places her hand on my chest, where my heart has started beating again— “feels special. You are everything to me, Dylan, and I would do anything to protect you, to make you feel cherished, and to love you. So yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Thank fuck. The moment she says yes, I can breathe again.

She falls into me, kissing me hard in her excitement. I wrap my arms around her, holding her tightly. We simply exist in the magic of the moment, the two of us promising to become one.

“Oh, my God,” Raven says, pulling back. “We have to do this again.”

“What?” I laugh, not understanding the sudden horror on her face.

“I cannot tell my mom and dad… or Maggie… oh, my God, Maggie… that I got engaged while naked on a couch after screwing like that,” she explains, her smile only growing as she paints the picture of us as we currently still are.

I shrug. “Thought you didn’t care what anyone thinks,” I remind her.

She glares at me, or tries to, anyway, but the laughter’s winning. “I didn’t mean my mom!”

“Okay,” I say, shifting her so that she’s lying on top of me once again, “I’ll propose every day, buy you as many rings as you want, and marry you as many times as you need, as long as you, Raven Hill, marry me, Dylan Sharpe. And be my forever.”