4

Erin

The outline is good. I read through it several times before bed, trying to fill in the details in my head. Malik already has several chapters written, but I can’t see them until I go to his apartment. He’s that paranoid about it.

I guess I don’t blame him.

But walking up to the building is daunting. It’s glaringly clear that I don’t belong, and I feel the judgment in the eyes of the doorman, even when I show him my ID and he matches it to whatever message that Malik left for him.

A severe woman meets me at the elevator when I get to the penthouse and shows me into a small office with a beautiful view of the park and a gorgeous computer.

“All the files you need are on the desktop,” she says. “Don’t go poking into anything else.”

I make a face after she leaves.

After a couple of hours, there’s still no sign of her or Malik. I’ve been writing and doing my best to match my style to the chapters that have already been written.

The outline though…it’s hard to believe that this was the outline that he already had. Because it’s darker, just like we’d talked about. The sex is hotter, and I want to believe that he listened to me yesterday in the conference room and was inspired.

Or maybe I’m still too smitten to be thinking clearly.

Either way, this book is going to be hot.

The outlined sex is kinky, steamy, and fast-paced. This book would set the world on fire. Metaphorically.

I wonder if there’s a way to track the sales of vibrators in conjunction with Malik’s release, because I’d put money that they go up.

Clearing my throat just to have some sound in the empty space, I focus on the words in front of me. I’m already to the first sex scene. Nothing like diving in headfirst, I guess.

The hero has the heroine spread out on the bed. She’s blindfolded, and has no idea that he’s the handsome stranger that she quite literally ran into at the coffee house. Right now, he’s just a faceless man in the club, ready to give her an equally anonymous good time.

I can’t help but imagine myself in that scenario, and of course, the man is Malik. Because I’m fucking hopeless.

Though the outline briefly describes the kind of sex that they’re going to have, there’s plenty of room for creativity. Closing my eyes, I imagine how the scene will spin forward.

He knows who she is, saw her picture in the file that was given to him. That file contained a list of all her deepest wants and fantasies, and now he has a key to her pleasure and can’t wait to use it.

I write a few paragraphs, focusing on the details of the hero tying her to the bed. She’s shivering with anticipation, every sense heightened because she can’t see him, and only feel. He speaks to her in soft commands, and the way his voice brushes across her skin…

Holy shit. I blink, pulling back from the computer, needing a breath. This might as well be writing my own fantasies.

But maybe that’s what I need to do. Maybe that’s the key to making my own writing better. Lean into the personal part of it so the books are an extension of me.

Okay, if this is my fantasy, I need to go deeper. And that means taking a risk that I really shouldn’t be considering.

It’s been three hours, and this house is so silent. I don’t even think Malik is home. And the housekeeper? No idea where she is, but she already made it clear she wants nothing to do with me, probably thought I was some fresh intern instead of a wannabe writer in my own right. So I’m pretty sure that I won’t see her again. Until tomorrow.

I creep to the open door and look both ways down the hallway. No sign of anyone. Listening, I hear nothing. For as gloriously fancy as this apartment is, it’s not exactly homey.

Making sure the door is shut behind me, I go back to my chair and spin to face the window. I may be brazen, but I’m not going to face the door while I do this.

The scene is playing out in my mind, and I put myself in the heroine’s place, heat filling me. That invisible need uncoiling in my gut. It’s good that I wore leggings today, no panties, and it’s that much easier to slip my fingers under my waistband.

The hero slides his hands down the heroine’s body, teasing every part of her that he can reach, and when he arrives between her legs, he strokes a delicate finger over her clit and laughs softly about how wet she is, and how desperate for him.

I slip a finger inside myself and bite my lip to stop myself from moaning into the silence. My vibrator would be fucking perfect right now. Is that what I’m going to have to do on this job? Pack my vibrator in my handbag?

The scene races forward in my mind, hero consuming the heroine’s pussy until she’s arching off the bed, nearly screaming, but still a breath away from that delicious orgasm. And just when she’s about to go over the edge, he pulls back. She can feel his smile on her thigh, happy that he’s ruined her pleasure because it means he gets to do it all over again.

She begs him, and he tells her no. There’s so much more to do. So many more ways to play, and she paid for the whole night, remember?

The heroine shudders, the reality of a whole night under his command dropping her into white-hot arousal.

In the real world, I’m close. My clit is swollen and I’m so wet that I should have worn panties because there’s going to be a wet spot on these leggings and I can’t even care.

So close, so close, so close—

“Good to know you’re getting along well so far.” The rich voice comes from behind me, and the entire world freezes. My orgasm is ruined just like the heroine’s, but this wasn’t on purpose.

He doesn’t know, right? He just thinks that I’m looking at the view?

Who am I kidding? My legs are spread too wide, and I’m leaned too far back to simply be enjoying the view. Unless in the last ten minutes I became one of those frat bros on the subway that need to take up three seats with their knees.

I pull my fingers out of my pussy and my hand out of my leggings and slowly spin to face him. Pretend that nothing is happening. That’s the only choice. “I was wondering when or if I’d see you.”

Malik’s eyes are burning into me with something entirely other than anger. “What were you doing?”

“It’s not often that I get to see this kind of view. I was just looking at it, thinking about the next part of the scene.” I swallow. My heart is pounding in my ears and there’s so much adrenaline racing through my veins that I think I might fall off the chair.

He comes around the desk at an even pace, hands in his pockets. Today is an equally simple outfit, t-shirt and jeans, but he’s still devastatingly sexy. One eyebrow rises. “And if I ask you to show me your hand, would it tell me the same story about the view?”

My fingers are still wet. Oh, fuck. I need to do something. Wipe them on my leggings. A tissue. Anything. I’m frozen in this moment, and I have no idea what to do. This is the farthest thing from professional. I am so fired.

Malik reaches out and grabs my hand, pulling it to him so fast that I don’t have a chance to react. Then every sense goes into overload as he puts my fingers directly into his mouth.

And sucks.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

“Mmm,” he makes a low sound. “You, Ms. Bailey, taste good. Now tell me the truth.”

I can’t. I absolutely cannot do that.

But at the same time, my nipples are hard under my shirt and I’m wetter than when I was literally fucking myself. Anything this man asks me to do? I’m going to do that.

My mouth is as dry as the Gobi Desert, but I try to find the words. “I was imagining the scene. That wasn’t a lie. Trying to find how it would go.”

“By touching yourself?”

My face flames. “If you want to fire me, I understand.”

He tastes my fingers again, slowly running his tongue over them. Oh my God, I’m literally going to come right now. This is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me in my life. “If you don’t think I write some of my sex scenes with my cock in my hand, then you’re wrong.”

Oh.

“Get up,” he says, and I’m standing before he’s finished the words. In one movement he hauls me against his body and kisses me.

My mind goes blank.

Malik Ellis is kissing me. And goddamn if it isn’t the best kiss of my life. I had one boyfriend in school, but it was brief, done as a favor to go on double-dates with a friend. He'd kissed like he was scared he'd break me. Like I was glass.

Malik kisses me like he knows I can handle it. His tongue strokes across mine with determined purpose, plunging deep. Reminding me of other ways he could plunge into me.

He pulls back and looks at me. “If I hadn’t thought you were trying to use me for money when I walked into Michael’s office, I would have been dragging you into the nearest supply closet.”

“I—”

“No,” he says, using that dark voice of command that I’ve always imagined. “The only thing I want to hear from you is a yes or a no. If it’s a yes, then I’m going to fuck you up against the window for all of New York to see. If no, then you’ll go back to work, and I’m going to go get myself off in the shower. While you think about exactly how I’m stroking myself and imagine what we could have done together.”