The master bedroom of the Thorne estate was bathed in the amber glow of low-slung chandeliers, the air heavy with the scent of aged bourbon and expensive sandalwood. Dominic Thorne sat in a high-backed leather chair, a glass of crystal in his hand, his eyes fixed on the door. He had paid for a professional. He had paid for a woman who could handle his intensity without blinking.
Then the door clicked open.
Elena stepped into the light, and for the first time in his life, Dominic felt the air leave his lungs. She wore a slip of emerald silk that didn't just fit her; it clung to her like a second skin, the fabric so thin it betrayed the curve of her waist and the defiant, firm peaks of her breasts. Her face was a masterpiece of soft lines and terrified eyes, a sharp contrast to the raw, erotic energy she radiated.
Just play the part, Elena screamed at herself internally. The money is enough to save them. Just lie one more time. She had told the agency she was experienced, a lie she'd rehearsed until her throat was dry. But looking at the man before her—his dark hair, the predatory sharpness of his gaze, and the sheer power radiating from his broad shoulders—she felt utterly exposed.
Dominic's eyes swept over her with a slow, agonizing heat. He didn't see a "companion." He saw a goddess who looked like she was about to bolt.
"Come here, lady," Dominic commanded. His voice wasn't a request; it was a low, vibrating rumble that made the silk against her skin feel like fire.
Elena's legs felt like lead, shaking with every step she took across the plush carpet. As she approached, Dominic stood, his movements fluid and masculine. He didn't wait. He began to unbutton his shirt, his eyes never leaving hers, revealing a chest of corded muscle and bronze skin. The sight of his raw, athletic build made Elena's heart hammer against her ribs.
When she reached him, he reached out, his large, hand wrapping around her waist. He hauled her into him and sat back down, pulling her directly onto his lap.
Elena gasped, her breath hitching as she felt it—the thick, heavy ridge of his arousal probing against the soft flesh of her buttocks through the thin silk. It was massive, a hard promise of the power he held. Dominic's hands didn't stay still; they moved upward, his fingers digging into the fullness of her breasts, fondling them with a rough, possessive hunger.
"You're stiff," he whispered against her neck, his breath hot. "Relax. You're here to work, aren't you?"
He slid a hand down, his fingers disappearing beneath the hem of her dress, moving toward the neatly shaved heat between her legs. Instinctively, Elena's thighs clamped shut, trapping his hand.
Dominic paused, a dark, suspicious smirk pulling at his lips. "Why are you behaving like a virgin? I don't have patience for virgins. They're too much trouble."
"It's... it's just been a long time, sir," Elena lied, her voice trembling as she forced her legs to open, surrendering to his touch.
Dominic didn't hold back. He delved into her, his fingers exploring her folds until she felt sore and swollen. He pushed a finger inside, then a second, his eyes darkening when he felt the incredible, pulsing tightness of her. "God, you're tight," he groaned. "It really has been a long time, hasn't it?"
He began to finger her with a frantic, passionate pace, his thumb raking over her clitoris while his fingers drove in and out. The plop of her own arousal and the friction of his skin echoed in the quiet room. Elena found herself reaching down, her fingers clawing at his hand, trying to capture the rhythm that was sending her into a tailspin.
Dominic growled, the sound feral. He stood her up just long enough to yank the emerald silk over her head, leaving her trembling and naked in the light. He grabbed her waist, turning her around so her back was to him, and guided her back down onto his lap.
"Take it," he commanded, his voice a rasping edge.
Elena reached back, her fingers trembling as she guided his massive, throbbing cock to her entrance. She let out a choked cry as she began to lower herself. Her virgin walls felt like they were screaming, stretching to the point of breaking as she took the sheer width of him. Sweat broke out on her forehead, her teeth sinking into her lower lip to keep from screaming.
Dominic felt the resistance, the way she shook as she tried to engulf him. He didn't wait for her to finish. He gripped her hips, his knuckles white, and drove upward with a devastating, heavy thrust.
"Sir!" Elena shrieked, her head falling back against his shoulder. The phantom pain of her maidenhead tearing was instantly drowned out by a wave of white-hot, ecstatic agony.
Dominic didn't stop. He began to move within her, his thrusts violent and deep, the sound of his skin slapping against her backside filling the room. He flipped her over, pinning her to the bed, his legs tangling with hers as he drove into her again and again.
"Look at me," he groaned, his voice thick with a passion that bordered on violence. "Look at what you're doing to me."
Elena could only moan, her body writhing under his. Every time he hit the back of her womb, her toes curled, her voice lost in a litany of broken sounds. He moved her again, pulling her onto all fours, his hands fondling her breasts from behind as he delivered heavy, rhythmic thrusts that made her entire body vibrate. The wet, slapping sounds of their union were the only thing she could hear over the roar of blood in her ears.
Dominic was lost. This wasn't a transaction anymore. He was drowning in her, his mind clouded by the heat and the impossible, crushing tightness of the woman beneath him. He didn't know her name, but as he felt his climax building, he knew one thing: he was never going to let another man touch what he had just had.