Page 100 of Arranged To Be Mine

I loved how bossy she was. The polished, uptight Darcy carried over into the bedroom and I was here for it. A woman who knew what she wanted was hot.

I braced one hand beside her head and pounded into her, the wet slap of skin echoing in the room. Her tits bounced with every stroke, nipples tight and begging. I dipped my head and sucked one into my mouth, biting just hard enough to make her cry out and grind harder against me.

“Yes,” she gasped, nails raking down my back. “Don’t stop. I’m so close.”

I reached between us, thumb circling her swollen clit in fast, firm strokes. Her walls squeezed me tighter. “Let go. Let me feel you.”

She shattered with a broken cry, pulsing around me as her whole body shook. The sight of her coming undone pushed me over the edge. I buried myself deep, hips jerking as I spilled into the condom with a guttural groan. We rode out every wave together. Jerking and panting through every tremor.

I collapsed beside her, pulling her against my chest while we caught our breath. The chemistry with this woman was off the charts. I had found my match in the bedroom. Was she my match outside of it as well? It was hard to think straight when I constantly wanted to be buried inside her.

“Still think we should keep things professional?” I murmured, pressing a kiss to her damp hair.

She laughed softly, breathless. “Not even a little.”

“Hungry?” I asked.

“Starving. I was too afraid to eat breakfast.”

“I’ll order room service. Want brunch or lunch?”

“Lunch. A BLT. Curly fries.”

“My girl likes her greasy food,” I teased.

I pushed myself off the bed and walked into the bathroom to deal with the pink condom. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

When I returned to the room, she was still stretched out on the bed in all her naked splendor. I stood beside the bed and ogled her body while she grinned up at me.

“Maybe I’ll have you for lunch,” I said. “You look delectable.”

“Feed me first.”

I flopped on the bed, covering her naked body with mine again. We kissed again. Slow. Leisurely. Not a care in the world. Did I have clients to get back to? Yep. Would they wait? Maybe. Didn’t matter. I was right where I wanted to be.

A vibration sound filled the air.

“Mine or yours?” I asked.

She sighed. “Let’s hope it’s yours.”

I rolled off her and picked up the room-service menu. She got up and dug in her purse once again to pull out her phone.

“Oh, want a milkshake?” I asked.

“Oh shit!”

I looked up. “What? What’s wrong?

I watched her face go from relaxed and satisfied to pure panic in half a second. Her eyes were glued to the screen, scrolling rapidly through what looked like a shit-ton of notifications.

“Darcy? What’s going on?”

“My father,” she breathed. “He’s called me seventeen times.”

My stomach dropped. “Seventeen?”

She didn’t answer, too busy reading through what I assumed were text messages. The color drained from her face, leaving her pale enough that I started to worry she might pass out.