Page 54 of Hold On Me

“I won’t complain if you want to get on your knees for me, Little One.”

The huskiness has returned to his voice, chased up with a playful little smirk, and my knees buckle just a touch. He’s so good at this. He can go from charming to filthy in the blink of an eye. I’m always on my toes with him. Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to him.

“Bowing and kneeling are two very different things, Ben. I’d expect someone of your stature to know this.”

“Hmm… maybe I need a little visual clarification.” He stops abruptly and stands in front of me, a slow, sexy smile forcing me to look at his lips and wish they were on mine. “Show me how you bow, Penelope.”

He raises his brow in challenge, but I’m not backing down. I dip my head, bend my knees, and curtsey as I’ve seen celebrities do when they meet royalty. I stand to my full height and bring my gaze to his.

“So regal. Now get on your knees, Little One.” He wets his lips, the anticipation palpable, and although I want nothing more than to please him, I also don’t want to make it that easy for him.

“Make me, Ben.”

He breathes in deeply before closing the limited distance between us, his arms winding around my waist and pulling me flush against his chest. His lips are next to my ear, and with every word he utters, a shiver runs through me. “Penelope, if I didn’t have to attend this god awful lunch, you’d be bent over my knee right now, your arse on full display as my palm coloured it the same pretty shade of pink your face gets when you’re embarrassed.” He drags his nose along my jaw and nips at the sensitive skin between my ear and throat while I moanindecently. “Once I’d finished spanking you, I’d have you on your knees, your pretty lips wrapped around my cock, telling you what a good girl you were for taking all of me so well.”

A small whispered ‘please’ falls from my lips, and he chuckles against my throat before dragging his tongue up and biting down on my shoulder. I yelp in pain, but before I can push him away, he’s kissing away the sting and I’m sighing in his arms.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Little One. No idea. But we have to go now. Will you behave until later?”

I no longer know how to form words coherently, so I just nod. He places a kiss on my temple, offers me his arm again, readjusts his pants to try and cover his erection, and strides from our suite like he didn’t just destroy me for any other man with his words alone. I’m screwed, and I’m not even a little bit worried about it.

29

BEN

I’m keeping my distance from her whilst we travel to the French restaurant my colleague chose for our business lunch. I have to. I’m still rock hard from our little back and forth. and I need to be Mr. Elias, ruthless businessman, not Ben, the randy teenager who gets hard from the smell of her hair. I mean, green apples and vanilla shouldn’t be something that makes my dick stand to attention, but it bloody does.

And it’s left me hugging the door opposite her in the car, attempting to avoid any of my senses being consumed by her, but it isn’t helping. I can’t drag my eyes away from her. Studying her profile as she looks over the notes I’ve written in preparation for today, I smile at her furrowed brows as she reads. Her nose twitches too, like a cute little bunny.

I scoff internally at myself. A cute little bunny? What the fuck has gotten into me?

Without her eyes leaving the page resting on her lap, she purses her lips and clears her throat. “Should I be taking notes during this lunch? Do you want my input or should I stay neutral and quiet?”

A smirk is the only response I give for a few seconds, but realise she can’t see it as she’s still focused on the papersbefore her. I reach over and brush her hair from her shoulder. I shouldn’t be touching her, but I can’t help it. “No, Penelope. Just enjoy the food, if you can.”

Her eyes meet mine, her brows furrowed and her lips parted slightly. “Then why did you bring me, Ben? You seem like you have everything prepped and no notes are needed. I’m struggling to understand why I’m here with you. You didn’t bring my dad to meetings like this, did you?”

A long sigh and a pinch to the bridge of my nose makes her shift in her seat so she can face me. “No, I didn’t. Honestly, Penelope? I like being near you. I had to attend this meeting and I didn't want to leave you alone in the hotel. Plus, I wanted you to be able to see as much of New York as possible for the short amount of time we’re here.”

A small smile creeps onto her face and she reaches over and places her hand on mine. “Okay then. We’ll attend this lunch and then we can enjoy our time here, together, yes?”

I flip my hand over so we’re palm to palm and link our fingers together before slowly lifting her hand and placing a small kiss to her knuckles. “Yes.”

As we exit the car, I let my hand drop to her lower back, guiding her past the potted bushes covered in twinkling fairy lights lining either side of the entrance, and into the restaurant. Christmas is everywhere outside with lights, signs, and holly wreaths hanging in abundance, but inside there isn’t as much.

I hang back a second or two and let her take it all in. The interior is exquisite. It may be as pretentious as you can get, but it still looks beautiful. The middle of the dining room has a huge holiday floral display, and bizarrely, a picture of waves crashing together covering the whole back wall. It’s a stunning piece of art, but it’s out of place. I would’ve expected a mural of the Eiffel Tower or something more French. But to each his own.

The lighting is dimmed and I roll my eyes at the ‘ambience’ they’re trying to create. It’s the middle of the day, we’re here for lunch. But I wish it was the evening so I could be on a proper date with her. Let her experience the atmosphere whilst I wined and dined her. Instead, I have to keep my business head on.

It’s fine, though. One day I’ll take her to Paris. Blow her away with private tours of the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and the Palace of Versailles. I think she’d prefer sightseeing there than being on a date in a restaurant anyway.

“Why is it so dark in here?” Penelope’s whispered voice brings me back to the now, and with a small chuckle, I turn my attention to her.

“I was thinking the exact same thing myself. I didn’t pick the restaurant, I’m afraid. My colleague did. I’m not a fan of the French cuisine they serve here.” I know my tone of voice is clipped, but it’s all part of my effort to tighten my mask and ready myself for this particular meeting.

I drag a hand through my hair and blow out a deep breath as the maitré d smiles expectantly at us. “We have a reservation under the name Kingston.”

She runs a manicured nail over her screen and then smiles. “Let me show you to your table. Mr. Kingston has already arrived.”

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