Page 52 of Dreamboat

I ordered a rideshare as I made my way down the elevator to the lobby of my building. One of the doormen was more than happy to have a spirited conversation with me about the weather. I often tell him that he has a future in meteorology. He almost always responds that the tips are better in my building.

I gave him one tonight just for making me smile.

I climb the concrete steps. Since there isn’t a control panel or any buttons indicating there are multiple units behind the carved wooden door, I press the doorbell.

“The door’s unlocked, Delia,” is the immediate response I get from the small speaker attached to the doorbell.

It’s Donovan’s voice but it’s different. It’s laced with something that I don’t think I’ve heard before.

I wrap my hand around the silver handle on the door and twist it, slowly pushing the door open as I do.

“Holy hell,” I whisper when I catch sight of what’s waiting for me inside.

“Close the door,” Donovan says through clenched teeth.

His jaw is tense. His entire body is exposed and his beautiful cock is hard and already sheathed in a condom.

All I can do is stare.

“I’m warning you.” His voice comes out even deeper than it was a moment ago. “I’m on fire for you, Delia. I may not last long the first time, but...”

“The first time you fuck me tonight?” I interrupt, anticipation coursing through me like a drug in my veins. “You’ll do it more than once.”

His head falls back in hearty laughter. “How can I take you only once? Look at you.”

I glance down at my dress, the skirt still covered in cat hair. I slipped my feet into heels that I wouldn’t normally wear when I race around Manhattan, and I didn’t bother brushing my hair before I jumped into the rideshare.

“Am I a mess?” I pout my bottom lip out playfully.

“You’re a dream.” He stalks toward me.

I inch back toward the door as he approaches. It’s not out of fear, but excitement. I’m scared that my knees are about to give out and I need something to lean on to keep my upright.

As soon as he’s close enough, his mouth is on mine. The kiss is demanding and when we part, he groans so loudly that my core clenches.

His hand drops to the skirt of my dress. He clumsily tugs at it, bunching it up as his fingers seek their destination.

“Lace,” he growls when he reaches my panties. “I bet they’re pretty, too.”

“Very,” I whisper.

He pushes them aside, his thick fingers staying true to their course. With his eyes locked on mine, he enters me swiftly. “You’re dripping wet.”

It’s true, so I can’t deny it. I can only confirm it with a nod of my head and two short words. “For you.”

He takes me by the waist, spinning me so quickly that I lose my balance but he keeps me upright, his hands holding me in place until I find my footing.

He guides me backward with small steps. “You’ll come as soon as I’m inside of you.”

I want to protest; argue that he’s wrong and I have more self-control than that, but it would be a lie. I’m already on the edge. Walking into his home to see him aching for me in such a profound way has me near an orgasm already.

My legs and ass bump into something. I glance down and back to see the arm of a white linen sofa.

“Bend over it, now.”

I hurry to do just that. Now, I’m the one tugging on the skirt of my dress to get it out of the way.

He swats my hand away as he presses softly on my back. “Bend over.”

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