It’s Just Business

I lasted all of an hour before I texted Dylan, and he told me his driver would come around to bring me to his apartment. Riding in the back, I twiddle my fingers, wondering how stupid I must look. “Vince?”

From up front, Vince’s eyes cut to me. “Yes, Miss Hill?”

“Be honest with me. What do you think of Dylan and me?”

Vince clears his throat and then plays with the knot of his tie at the red light. I’ve barely spoken to him, apart from polite greetings and asking how his day is. He’s a private man. But he’s seen Dylan and me in the back of this car more than a dozen times now. And I know he’s been Dylan’s driver for years before me.

“What do you mean, Miss Hill?” he asks.

“Am I being foolish, sleeping with him and risking the entire firm finding out?”

Vince relaxes slightly, shaking his head and driving forward as the light turns green. “Miss Hill, I’ve been a driver for thirty years, starting with a taxi that I’d cruise around the Square at night, picking up tourists and barflies and more, taking them wherever they wanted. I’ve been a chauffeur, both rental and, for the past few years, on call for Mr. Sharpe. All that to say, there have been a fair number of people in my backseat, so I know what I’m talking about.” He glances in the rearview mirror, making sure I understand he’s an expert as far as he’s concerned. “Mr. Sharpe barely smiled, barely spoke in this car unless it was a business call.” He swallows and then tells me, “I used to tell my wife he needs a partner. Although I’d never tell him, and this stays between the two of us, right?” he asks, and his eyes search for mine in the rearview mirror.

“Of course,” I answer him.

“You are a remarkable young woman, one who has made him a happy man for the first time in… well, as long as I’ve known him. And sometimes, we do things for people we care about that might seem stupid to people who don’t understand the whole situation. Trust me. My wife could tell you stories.”

I take a moment to embrace Vince’s advice.

“It sounds like you think very highly of him,” I answer, and I don’t expect his response.

“I spent my twenty-fifth wedding anniversary in the Bahamas because of him,” Vince explains, “and my son has a scholarship waiting for him that Mr. Sharpe doesn’t know I know about. That’s the sort of man he is.” His eyes find mine in the rearview again. “He’s a good man, and I think the two of you make for a beautiful couple. We’re almost there.”

Vince drops me off with a ‘Good luck, Miss Hill’, and I go upstairs on weak legs, where Dylan’s waiting for me in his living room. Crossing the floor, I force myself to look him in the eyes, wanting to make him understand. “Dylan.”

“Darling,” he answers, his voice deep and the cadence doing something sinful to me.

We always start with a greeting, it seems, but hearing his name for me helps. I sit down on the couch, angled toward him but on another piece of furniture. My nerves flutter through me, and I can barely sit still.

“Would you like a drink?” he offers, but I look him in his eyes. The intensity that stares back begs me to simply let go. It promises that he’ll catch me.

“No… let me just say it,” I start and take in a deep breath.

He straightens, the cords in his neck tightening as he swallows. “Say whatever you’d like, and then I have something to say as well.”

“Dylan, I’m sorry,” I begin. “Today, I was embarrassed, but it wasn’t you. It was me. I’ve spent so much of these past months either angry, or scared, or… well, lust-drunk. And when Tamara walked in, it felt like everything I’d been telling myself—that as long as no one saw, it didn’t matter what the rumors were at work, not while I was doing so well on my own and they could surely see that—it all… disappeared in a blink, and I had to come to quick terms with being seen as the one thing I’ve fought against…”

I truly thought my biggest fear in all this was that I’d be seen as a gold-digging climber who is using Dylan, but when I dug a little deeper, there was an even uglier truth.

I swallow thickly and say, “I’m not good enough for any of this. I’m faking it in so many ways, acting like I have a clue when sometimes, I don’t know what I’m doing. That’s why I’ve been worried about everyone else. At some point, they’ll figure out that I’m an imposter pretending to be confident. Because the truth is, I wasn’t good enough to get an internship on my own—Evan had to help me—then I couldn’t get a job on my own. You took pity on me. I wasn’t good enough to keep Evan from straying…” Dylan growls at that one, but I don’t let it stop me. My emotions get the best of me as every insecurity heats my body. “And now, I’m not good enough for a man like you.”

“I’m the one not good enough for you,” he corrects harshly. “But I’m trying to be. So fucking hard. I’m working my ass off to override a lifetime of hustle, of grabbing what I want with both hands and stubbornly refusing to let go, because I want you to choose me, not be forced to stay with me because you have no other option.”

I stare at him, his words sinking in along with my own confession.

“You’re not allowed to say you’re not good enough. I get to decide that, and you are everything to me,” he confesses, and my entire world slows. The walls are closing in. “I get to love who I want to love, Darling. So don’t you dare think you’re not good enough for me when I want you so desperately.”

I blink, awestruck. “We sound like a pair of woe-is-me shitshows,” I say, hiding my feelings behind sarcasm.

Dylan inclines his head. “Perhaps. Or like two people willing to grow and change and improve, for us and for another who’s worth the growing pains. As long as you want me, I want you,” he says.

“I do want you,” I say earnestly. “I choose you, over and over, Dylan.”

He exhales heavily, a small shudder working through him as the words settle into his body, heart, and soul.

“Good. That’s the only thing that matters. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. I mean it, Raven,” he stresses.

“What did you want to say?” I dare to ask him, not wanting to think about the office and exhausted from my own back and forth and racing thoughts.

He takes a moment, locking eyes with me and searching for something before he starts. “I need to ask you, Raven. What is it you want out of this? Out of your life?”

“I want it all,” I tell him evenly. “I want to be respected for my accomplishments on their own, to be with you, to have you wrapped around my finger even as I’m helpless under your command.” I offer him a small smile with that, and he huffs a laugh, breaking the tension that had gathered. My heart beats harder as I confess, “I want to be your partner, your darling, your confidant. I want everything. I want to be yours.”

Dylan dips his chin just a fraction of an inch, nodding along with me. “I understand,” he says quietly, “because I want everything you just listed.”

“I want to be loved,” I tell him, my heart going wild at daring to use such a word. But I have to say it aloud.

Dylan stiffens at the loaded word, and fear trickles through me, so I try to take it back, swallow it down until he’s ready to hear it. “I… look, if I was too quick to say it, I’m sorry, I just⁠—”

I get to my feet, regretting laying it all out there, but Dylan leaps up with me, pulling me in close. “Stay,” he whispers in my ear. “Don’t go. I want that too.”

His words unlock me, and I melt against him, turning my head to kiss his lips tenderly. “Really?” I ask, knowing it makes me sound weak and needy but not caring this time. In this, I need as much as Dylan can give.

“Really.”

It’s enough. We both have trauma, the damage of betrayal ruining our faith in ourselves as much as in others. Our hearts are fragile little things despite our posturing to the contrary, so for now, for us… it’s enough.

“Will you make love to me?” I ask, and he takes my hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

He gives me a slow smile before answering, “I would love to.”

With my hand in his and lust coming over me like a haze, he leads me through his home, past all the open space and refined luxury of his things, but none of that even comes into our view. My entire world is Dylan, and he feels the same way.

We come into his bedroom, right up to the massive bed, and Dylan stops us. Kneeling, he reaches for my left foot, and I lift it silently, knowing what he wants. I have to lean on his shoulders as he takes off my high heel and runs his hand up my calf, his eyes drinking me in. “So fucking sexy,” he says as he lowers my foot and switches legs. “So damn tempting.”

Staying on his knees, he kisses my thighs through the form hugging dress I wore to work and never changed out of, nuzzling his nose against the gap between my thighs. “I want to worship you,” he says, running his hands up the backs of my thighs and cupping my ass. “You are my every dream, my every fantasy.”

Kissing up my body, Dylan gets to his feet, holding me in his arms as he backs me up to the bed’s edge. Laying me down on the soft surface, he stands up, looming over me. He looks powerful and dominant, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that makes me squirm. I’m not used to a man ever looking at me this way.

But Dylan does.

He looks at me like I’m his beginning and his end, and everything in between. It’s a heady sensation, to hold the heart of a man like Dylan. It’s a heavy responsibility too, one I won’t take lightly.

Reaching up, he unbuttons his shirt, each inch of his body revealing itself to me and making me even more turned on. When he takes off his belt, I push myself back on the bed, scooting my dress up and pulling the clingy, stretchy fabric up and over my head to reveal that, though I’m wearing a bra, I don’t have on panties.

Dylan’s gaze is predatory. “Did you go to work with nothing covering this pretty pussy? I could’ve accessed you like this all day.”

Undoing my bra and tossing it away, I explain, “It ruined the line of the dress.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve ruined your dress,” he growls.

I can’t help but smile, even though my entire body is on fire with desire.

I can only watch with heated anticipation as he undoes his pants and pushes them down, revealing himself in all his naked glory.

He climbs on the bed, gathers me in his arms, and kisses me again, the heady sensation of our bodies pressed tight together like this washing away any residual worries until it’s only Dylan and me in this bed, no ghosts of the past remaining. The feeling of his skin on mine makes everything electric, and I’m hyperaware of every shift he makes as he kisses along my neck and across my collarbones, his left hand stroking my spine and down to gently cup my ass.

He thrusts into me deeply, taking his time and teasing me all the while. His masculine scent adds to the addiction that he is.

“Harder,” I whimper, not wanting our lovemaking to be soft and sweet, but rather wanting him as he is, rough and leaving his mark on my body and my soul. In response, he squeezes, his fingers digging into my flesh and making me moan. I tip my nose against his, kissing his face and finding his lips as he rolls us until I’m on top of him, and Dylan smirks, seeming playful given everything we’ve just been through. “Why are you happy?” I ask. “I’m the one on top.”

“Mmm, but I know something, Darling,” he says, and suddenly, his right hand lifts and smacks me sharply on my ass. “You like it when I do this. And now I’ve got two hands free.”

I laugh, gasping as he spanks me again, and my hips roll in response. Between us, I can feel the long thickness of his cock teasing me. Every gentle rock hits my clit and sends a wave of pleasure through me.

I move up and down his cock, not fucking him yet, but mimicking the movement along his shaft.

Dylan pulls me down, kissing my lips and holding me close. I lift up, and when he lowers me back down, the moan that slips from my lips gets swallowed by Dylan as he fills me.

The sharp pain walks the line of pleasure, and my hips buck. Dylan’s cock moves inside me, and I’m swept away. Looking into his eyes, I lift and fall on his cock, moaning and gasping as he adjusts to meet me. He stares into my eyes the whole time, watching me as I climb higher and higher. But what I see there isn’t lust or mere desire. It’s more, so much more, and as good as he feels inside me, his expression is what really sends me soaring. Finally, when I’m trembling on the edge, he reaches up and grabs my hips, pulling me down and impaling me on him, throwing me into bliss.

He’s careful with me, but powerful and demanding as my orgasm rocks through me. He brings me down onto my knees, gets behind me, and fills me with one deep, hard thrust. “Who do you belong to?” he growls, thrusting into me again. I gasp, my pleasure climbing higher and higher. “Who do you belong to, Raven?”

“Y–You.”

“Say,” Dylan says, emphasizing each word with a stroke into my quivering, clenching pussy, “It. Say. Who. You. Belong. To.”

“You!” I grunt, meeting his thrusts and pushing back into him. “I belong to you and only you!”

I try to meet him, but he’s a man possessed, his hips hammering hard against my ass. This is what I want, what I need—to be entirely consumed by him. My palms give way, and I’m chest down on the bed, my ass up in the air as he fucks me mercilessly.

My knees start to slide on the bed cover, but Dylan doesn’t let up. He savages me, groaning heavily into my ear until I’m lost in a sea of pleasure. I know I’m crying out. My throat burns as I scream his name over and over, begging him mindlessly to fuck me harder, to take me, to give me everything.

With a final hard thrust that pushes me flat onto the bed, we come together, Sending me into an oblivion of bliss. In the aftermath, he holds me, his strong arms around my body and his lips buried in the curve of my neck, kissing me softly and keeping me totally protected as we roll onto our sides.

“Good God, you know how to fuck,” I murmur, and Dylan chuckles.

“Rest, Darling,” he says, kissing the crook of my neck. I can feel him inside me still, but I’m too tired to worry about anything right now. “We’ve been through a lot tonight, but I’ll take care of you.”

I nod and yawn. He’s right. I’ve lost the will to stay awake, and as sleep rushes up to me, I’m aware of only two things.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

I am Dylan’s.

He is mine.

Ding.

The sound drifts through the darkness of sleep, and I half turn over, my eyes still heavy with exhaustion. Sometime in the hours since I fell asleep, he’s covered us both up and is pressed against my back, spooning me… or he was. Now my back is cold, and I rasp out, “Dylan?”

I feel him shift, and then the soft click-clack of something being put on the bedside table. He reaches up and tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear, making me smile softly. “It’s okay,” I hear him whisper, snuggling up behind me and wrapping his arms around my body again. Immediately, I feel safe and warm. “Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Oh,” I murmur, realizing how late it is. I’ve never slept over, and if I want to get a decent taxi and some sleep… “I should go.”

“Stay the night,” Dylan whispers again, pulling me in closer. He kisses my neck, knowing how to make me melt. It takes me a moment of being held in his arms to realize he may want more.

I can’t help but whimper in desire as he pulls me closer to him. “That’s why you want me to stay.”

He doesn’t reply but keeps kissing my neck, and I press back against him. “Just promise me something.”

He pauses, lifting his lips from my neck. “What is it?”

“You make good coffee?” I ask. “I’m going to need it to wake up tomorrow.”

“I promise.”