Page 53 of Devil In A Suit

Slowly, he tugs the straps of my camisole down, letting the fabric slide over my shoulders. His fingers graze my skin, leaving a trail of heat that has me trembling, my breath catching in my throat. When the camisole slips down further, exposing my breasts, his pupils grow and his gaze becomes dark and heavy with desire. It feels like he’s memorizing every detail, every curve.

He leans in, his mouth finding my skin and presses soft kisses along the line of my collarbone, and then lower, until his lips brush over my hard nipples. The sensation is electric, and I gasp, my fingers tightening in his hair as he circles my nipple with his tongue, teasing and tasting. It’s a slow, torturousrhythm, one that makes my body arch toward him, silently begging for more.

His hand moves up to cup my other breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak, and the combination of his mouth and hand is almost too much. He sucks gently, then harder, his tongue flicking in a way that sends sparks of pleasure shooting through me. My head falls back, and I let out a high-pitched call, unable to hold back the sounds of my own need.

His hands roam over my body, sliding down my sides, his fingers tracing the curve of my waist, before they move back up to my breasts, squeezing and caressing. The warmth of his touch, the way his hands feel against my bare skin, is indescribably sweet. He’s taking his time, savoring every inch of me, and it makes me feel more desired than I’ve ever been before.

His mouth moves from one breast to the other, sucking and teasing, and I can feel the heat pooling between my thighs, my body responding to every touch, every kiss. His hands hold me steady as I tremble beneath his touch. I arch into him, my fingers curling around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, wanting to feel every bit of him against me. This is heaven.

When he finally pulls back, his breath warm against my skin, I’m left feeling raw and hungry for more. His eyes meet mine, and there’s a possessiveness in his gaze that makes my heart beat like a trapped bird. It’s like he’s telling me without words that he’s not done, that there’s so much more he wants to explore, to feel, and I find myself aching to give him everything.

“Ride me,” he groans, his voice husky and strained, and I know he’s just as lost in this as I am. I start bouncing on his hard cock. It’s fast, frantic—each movement bringing me closer to the edge. I can feel every inch of him inside me, hitting all the right spots. I cling to him, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I throw my head back, lost in the feeling.

His hands move to my ass, squeezing and guiding me as I ride him harder. His mouth finds my breast, and the sensation of his lips, his tongue swirling over my skin, is enough to start the first waves. I’m losing myself, the pleasure building higher and higher until it’s almost unbearable. I can’t think; I can only feel—the heat of his body, the way he fills me so perfectly, the wet slapping sound of our bodies coming together.

“Faster,” he urges, and I obey, my movements becoming more frantic, more desperate as I chase the release that’s so close I can taste it. His touch becomes rough and fierce, but so, so good, and when he thrusts up hard, I come undone. My body shudders and breaks into millions of pieces as my cries echo through the conservatory.

Those cries… they are his name!

The explosive climax goes on and on and it is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. And I know then that he has ruined me for all other men.

He follows right after, his grip tightening as he spills inside me, his head falling back against the chair, a deep, guttural groan ripping out of him. I feel the heat of him filling me, and the sensation only prolongs my pleasure, drawing out every last bit of my climax until I’m shaking, my body spent.

For a long while, neither of us move. We’re both breathing heavily, our bodies still tangled together, the aftershocks leaving me feeling raw and exposed. I can’t look into his eyes. I collapse against him, resting my head on his shoulder as I catch my breath. His arms wrap around me, holding me close, and for a moment, it’s not just about the sex—it’s something deeper, something that scares me as much as it thrills me.

We stay like that, our bodies pressed together. Neither of us speaks. We would only spoil it with our snipping and bickering. I can feel the warmth of his skin against mine, the way his fingers trace patterns on my back. I close my eyes and pretend we arenot what we are. We are real lovers. For once, I don’t want to think about what comes next.

I just want to savor this perfectly beautiful thing that happened in a magical forest in the middle of New York City.

Chapter Thirty-Three

IVAN

Heading back to the office after the time I spent with Lara at my home feels strange. Something happened in that conservatory. Every step I take is heavy as if I left a part of myself behind with her. I can't stop thinking about her—no matter how hard I try.

It’s distracting, maddening even.

The way she looked at me, the way she trembled, her lips on my skin. She lingers in my mind, refusing to go, like a shadow that follows no matter where I turn. I've had much more experienced partners but none of them managed to get under my skin like she has. She’s there, embedded in my thoughts, and I find myself unable to focus on anything else.

When I finally reach my office, I sit behind my desk, staring blankly at the paperwork piled in front of me. I should be diving into the day’s agenda. The New York Stock Exchange opened hours ago and I have a couple of risky open trades that I should monitor, but all I can think about is her.

I keep replaying everything in my head, trying to make sense of my obsession with her. They circle in my mind like awhirlwind. Round and round. It doesn’t make sense. This won’t do. This is meant to be a purely sexual escapade. I try to force myself to focus, but all I see is her pale body stretched out on the stone floor, her pussy open like the most beautiful pink flower imaginable. My cock starts to stir.

I'm lost in those thoughts when there's a knock on my door.

Greta strides into my office, her sharp heels echoing off the hardwood floor. The sight of her cold beauty snaps me back to reality, away from thoughts of Lara’s vulnerable innocence. Greta is professional as always, holding her folder to her chest. Her expression is neutral, carefully composed. There’s no hint of what she thinks about the way I have bought and paid for Lara—just business.

Her voice is crisp and professional as she walks over to my desk. She flips open the folder. “I’ve made the necessary adjustments following your changes this morning.”

I lean back in my chair, nodding, trying to appear like I’m paying full attention, but she looks alien to me. Everything feels wrong. In my head Lara’s gorgeous eyes are looking up at me from the stone floor.

I’m fucking hooked. It’s an addiction I never saw coming. I thought I was buying her! Ha, ha, what a joke. The joke’s on me.

“Your breakfast meeting at the Four Seasons has been rescheduled to Le Bernardin’s drinks bar,” she continues, her tone detached, almost clinical. “The appointment is confirmed for 7:30 p.m.”

Le Bernardin. It’s a perfect place for closing deals with its quiet elegance and impeccable service.

“Good,” I reply. Even my voice sounds different. I tap my fingers on the desk. “Make a reservation for two at the restaurant afterwards.”

---