Page 104 of For the Sub

In jeans and casual wear, he was sensational.

And dressed in a black cashmere sweater, black trousers, and polished black shoes, one foot propped on the wall behind him, arms folded across his chest, he was breathtaking.

Master Niles looked to be part rogue, part corporate executive, all movie-star handsome.

Rather than waiting for the driver or valet to see to her, Master Niles opened her door and offered his hand.

She’d never been treated like a fairy princess before, but she could get accustomed to it quickly.

He thanked the driver, then asked the bellhop to deliver her belongings to their suite.

“Of course, Mr. Malloy.”

He tipped the man before kissing her forehead. “Welcome to Denver.”

“I’m glad to be here, Sir.”

Against her ear, he said, “Let me get you to the room so I can welcome you properly.”

She shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the day’s chill.

With his fingertips at the small of her back, he guided her toward the revolving door.

“Let’s get you settled,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind, I had some snacks sent to the room and booked you in for a well-deserved pedicure after a massage. If you want to add anything else, feel free.”

“That all sounds delightful.” Once they were in the brass elevator with the doors shut, she turned to him. “But a round of hot, sweaty sex sounds even better.”

He pushed her against the back of the car, pinning her hands above her head and using a knee to pry apart her thighs. “A woman after my own heart.” He lifted the hem of her skirt with his free hand and worked his way beneath her tights and panties to dip two fingers into her suddenly damp pussy.

“Mine,” he growled, voice gruff against her ear, making her nerves tingle. “Have you been playing with yourself, Ms. Hess?”

“Of course, Sir.” She had to tell the truth. “I was fantasizing about you.”

He finger-fucked her, fast, deep, relentless. He knew what she needed, and he gave it to her…the certainty that he wanted her as badly as she wanted him, the promise of more to come, the unspoken assurance that she mattered to him. When he bit her neck, she whimpered and went limp, coming all over his hand.

The elevator dinged in advance of its arrival.

He pulled out and straightened her skirt. “That ought to hold you for a few minutes.” He licked his fingers.

She blinked, knees shaking, hardly able to believe what had just happened.

The car stopped and the doors slid open. “After you,” he said.

He led her down the carpeted hall.

In front of fourteen-oh-seven, he pulled out two electronic keys.

After offering one to her, he opened the door. “After you.”

Their accommodations were sumptuous, with floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the Rockies.

The large living room held a couch, chair, and coffee table, all facing the wall-mounted television. The wet bar had pendant lighting above it, each glass globe painted in an explosion of primary colors.

On the marble surface, a champagne bottle chilled in a silver ice bucket while two crystal flutes stood invitingly off to one side.

A wheeled serving cart was parked nearby, and she could see plates filled with chocolates, scones, vegetables, dip, crackers, and cheese.

“I call this a feast, not a snack, Sir.” And to think she’d almost opted to stay home and eat leftovers. “It’s amazing. Thank you. But I feel so spoiled that I may never want to leave.”

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