Luka pressed into her and moved her hands from his head and down past his flat stomach to the hard heat that was pressed into her.
He pulled back and their foreheads met as they watched her free him.
And, because it was Luka, of course he had protection to hand. But before he was lost to latex, Cecelia held him for a moment, as she had so long wanted to—stroking his thick, hard length as beads of silver moistened her palm.
She licked her lips and he moaned a low curse, for he wanted to carry her now to his suite. Luka wanted the rest of Cecelia’s clothes to be gone, but his want was more immediate now. He pushed her hand away and sheathed himself with rapid, practised ease and then got back to her mouth.
He was so tall that even with Cecelia in high espadrilles she was no match for him.
Their teeth clashed and suddenly too much was not enough. He pushed up the dress and his hands roughly roamed her inner thighs and felt her hot and wet as he tore at her knickers and then crouched enough to sear into her.
He was rougher than she had ever known yet there was liquid silk to ease his path.
Cecelia had never been more frantic and as he lifted her legs she wrapped them around him. He was strong enough with his grip to allow her to hold his face and kiss him back hard.
It was the roughest and most delicious coupling.
For they matched.
His hands held her buttocks and his fingers dug in so deep that they would surely leave a bruise, yet she ground onto him. And far from reticence, it was Cecelia coaxing him to come. ‘Luka!’ She could not focus on kissing, and she tore her mouth away. He could feel the tease of intimate muscles and he thrust in hard and then swelled to the tight grip of her orgasm and her sensual sob called him to deliver deep.
Luka did, shuddering his release deep into her to the last twitches of hers.
And that part had her dizzy. The moan of him carried without breath to her ears, and the sensual slide of their hot, damp bodies as they slowly brought themselves back from the far reaches of the divine space they had been in together. Kissing again, with languorous relish as the world faded in.
He lowered her down and she could feel the thump, thump of his heart against the flutter of hers. Cecelia rested her head on his shoulder and she was herself for the first time.
And herself was more reckless than she had ever dared to be.
‘Come on.’ He was tidying up, picking up discarded clothes, ready to be headed for his suite and to bed, to resume proceedings, this time at a more leisurely pace.
But she would not be waking up there, Cecelia decided.
One taste of heaven was more than enough and she had always sworn to leave before he dictated terms.
‘I need to get home.’
She picked up her bra, but since it would be almost impossible to do it up she pushed it into her bag.
‘Cece...’ he said, and she didn’t correct him, but she did pick up her shredded knickers and added them to her bag, and then with rather unsteady hands did up her halter neck.
‘I really do need to get home, Luka.’
‘You’re not just running off.’
‘I’m not running,’ she corrected. ‘I just want to go home.’
Her voice was incredibly composed. He looked at the necklace, heavy between gently curving breasts and the gorgeous flush of her climax.
But aside from throwing her over his shoulder, or dragging her, it would seem that he couldn’t stop her from leaving. She had made up her mind.
Usually it would be perfect.
A good orgasm, and then the absence of conversation—except there was more to her that he wanted to explore, and he was rather sure that there was more to come for them.
But she was checking herself in a small mirror compact, as she often did before she headed out.
‘Thanks for an amazing night,’ Cecelia said, and then, just as she had done previously, she leant forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek, as if the past half an hour had not taken place.
‘Don’t go home yet,’ Luka said.
‘I want to, though.’
And he couldn’t really argue with that.
He watched as she walked to the elevator and pressed the button.
Cecelia stepped in and pressed for the lobby, unable to stop herself leaning against the cool mirrors, not really surprised by what had taken place.
She had wanted him so badly for months.
A man in a suit got in at the fourteenth floor and another at the seventh.
Cecelia nodded and smiled and then stared ahead as they inched down to the ground floor where she stepped out and walked across the foyer.
The cleaners had their buffers out and were polishing the marble floors.
Cecelia said goodnight to the doorman and stepped out into the night, but there was no cool breeze to greet her.
It was a sultry London night, but as she headed for the underground station she heard her name—‘Ms Andrews?’
She turned around and saw that it was Luka’s driver.
‘Mr Kargas said you worked too late to take the underground.’
And of all the experiences of this night, this was the part she both hated and loved the most.
Loved that she was being taken care of by Luka, that he had thought to see her safely home.
Hated because by his very nature it was a mere temporary, tantalising glimpse of his world.
CECELIA WAS TEMPTED to call in sick, but then that would suggest she regretted last night, which she didn’t.
Instead, she regretted how she felt this morning, because rather than getting up to her alarm and facing the very early start to her day, Cecelia had brought a coffee to bed and sat in it looking at the necklace that Luka had given her.
Cecelia did not want to be one of those women who dared to hope that with her things might be different.
She just had to get through this morning and then she would have a bit of a reprieve in the next two weeks, and then hopefully by the time he came back from Xanero, normal services could be resumed.
For the first time, she hadn’t put out her clothes the night before but Cecelia forgave herself that lapse.
She dressed in the navy suit that she should have worn yesterday and after checking her appearance left the flat. It was too early even for Mrs Dawson to be up and about as she left and took the Tube, not to the office but to Luka’s apartment, to which she had keys.
The trouble with being a PA, especially to someone as successful as Luka, was that for the term of your contract you had access to their life in a way few did.
And, Cecelia had learned, if you happened to be crazy about the boss, it was a form of slow torture.
The doorman knew her and greeted her with a smile. She headed up in the elevator and then rang the bell and waited a moment before letting herself in.
Once, thinking he was still overseas, she had let herself in unannounced, without ringing the bell, and had found Luka in bed.
Neither alone nor sleeping.
Yes, working for