The door creaks open so slowly I can practically taste how nervous she is, and there’s no sweeter fucking taste on the planet. I knew I had to have her as soon as I saw her. I have a lease with the airport to keep one of my personal planes here out of convenience, so it was a miracle I even happened to look toward the line of people waiting to check their bags and tickets.

But there she was. Wearing a bikini and a cover-up in the middle of an airport. Her chestnut hair and big brown doe eyes captivated me almost as much as her barely covered curves. She practically has innocence and inexperience written all over her. Something about the way she could pass for a hot-as-hell preacher’s daughter combined with those unbelievable tits and perfectly tight ass has my cock so hard it hurts. One look and I know no man has given her the kind of orgasms she deserves--the kind of treatment she deserves.

That’s about to change.

She steps inside hesitantly with wide eyes that dart around the room, skimming over every detail but always bouncing back to me--to my face, my chest, my cock.

Dirty girl.

A predatory smirk pulls at my mouth. I can’t help feeling like I’ve just lured something pure and sweet into the darkness of my world, and maybe I have, but she’s going to love every second of it.

She clears her throat. “I don’t even know your name,” she says with a nervous laugh that sounds like something between a squeak and a cough.

“Damian.”

She swallows visibly. “I’m Kylie.” She takes a couple steps toward me and extends her hand.

A handshake? I would laugh if the gesture didn’t seem to perfectly fit the awkward and innocent image I’m already forming of this woman, and something about the simpleness of it is turning me on even more.

I reach to swallow her small hand up in mine, enjoying the smooth silkiness of her skin against my own rough touch.

“Do you come here often?” she asks, pulling back from the handshake and tugging at her dress, which is deliciously see-through and gives me a clear view of the black bikini she wears beneath.

“To this conference room?” I ask.

Her cheeks flush red. “To the airport?” She laughs a little at herself, shaking her head and taking a half-step back toward the door. “I’m sorry. This is completely crazy. I don’t even know what I’m doing here, I should just--”

I move toward her, not touching her exactly, but with such urgency that she has no choice but to move back until she’s against the wall and I’m in front of her, palms pressed to the wall on either side of her head. “Don’t leave,” I say.

Her chest is heaving, but the way her eyes lock on mine and her lips flush with red tells me it’s not entirely from fear. She wants this, at least on some level, but she’s never done something like it before. She needs an excuse--she needs me to take the responsibility so she won’t feel guilty or ashamed.

I kiss her then, so forcefully at first that her head bangs into the wall a little with a dull thump. She moans in surprise against my lips, but wastes no time slipping her sweet, hot little tongue between my lips. It’s not a hesitant kiss like most first kisses tend to be. It’s not soft or tender. It’s hungry. It’s lust, hunger, and the sense of urgency all transformed into a frenzy. Her hands are stiff at first, but when I press my palm to her thigh and climb until the top of my fingers graze her pussy through her bikini, which is already warm and soaked through from her arousal, she awakens, digging her fingers into my back and exploring me as quickly as she can.

“I can’t,” she gasps between kisses, but her hands never stop. “This is crazy.”

I push her back against the wall, gripping the base of her throat carefully--I know where to put pressure to give the illusion of danger without obstructing the airways in the slightest. A more experienced woman would want to feel the real danger of her air supply dwindling, but to her, I’m sure even the slightest implication will more than do the trick.

Surprise and fear register in her expression, but when she sees me lift my fingers that are wet from her sweet juices to my mouth and lick them clean, a moan of pleasure escapes her lips.

“You can’t?” I ask. “Well I can’t have you slipping away on me. Stay right there, Kitten,” I add, before turning to the computer set up on the conference desk and yanking a few cords free. She’s right where I left her when I come back, and her obedience already has me near the edge of my limits.

“Why is your dress still on?” I ask.

She gulps again, fingers twitching toward the hem of her dress but no more than that. “Y-you want me to take it off?” she asks. Her eyes dart to the door and she closes her fingers tightly around the fabric of her dress, her whole body tense.

“No one will disturb us,” I say, stepping close enough to smell her arousal. She smells so sweet and pure that I can barely wait to taste her pussy, which I know will be incredible. “Take off your dress,” I demand.

She doesn’t move immediately, so I snap the cords between my fists, making a sound that sends her jumping. “Off. All of it.”

I watch her closely. Her body language tells me everything I need to know. Clenched fists and slightly hunched posture both speak of apprehension, but there’s no denying the hardened nubs of her nipples, the flush in her cheeks, her dilated pupils, and the way she’s already wet as hell for me. She wants this as much as I do, and I’m not going to sacrifice the thrill for her by asking permission. Fuck that.

With slow, shaking hands, she pulls her dress up over her head and drops it beside her feet. I take her in, sucking in a shuddering breath as my eyes feast on the swell of milky soft skin of her tits and the way I can see the patch of wetness even against the black fabric of her bikini bottom. It takes everything in me not to go to her now and tear her clothes free with my hands or teeth--whichever comes first.

But I wait.

Her eyes meet mine and for several long moments nothing happens. Her innocent brown eyes transfixed by my icy blues. Her chest rises rapidly, breasts rising and falling hypnotically. My own breathing coming ragged now with my insatiable need to have her--to have every last fucking inch of her all to myself.

I’ve never needed to fuck a woman this badly, not even close.

She bites her full bottom lip, holding it there with her teeth while she reaches to untie her top. She frees those perfect tits, and goddamn, putting them away in the first place was a crime. She smiles shyly but with a hint of pride at my obvious admiration. Each breast falls down with a satisfying weight, and it’s all I can take. I can’t wait another fucking second to put my hands on her.

I rush forward, taking both her wrists and pressing them to the wall over her head. I quickly wrap the cord around them and then tie it off to an exposed pipe above her. She watches me carefully, but gives no resistance. Dirty little kitten. You want this so fucking bad, don’t you?

I grip one of her breasts now that I have her where I want her, running my thumb over the hardened nub of her nipple. Goosebumps rise across her chest and arms.

“Very responsive to touch,” I note. “That’s good. But I’ll have to be careful not to make you cum too fast.”

“What if I say no?” she whispers.

The heat and sweetness of her breath brushes my face. I breathe it in, barely in control anymore. Nearly to the point that the only thing I can stand to do is turn her around and fuck her until she’s full of my cum and can’t think straight, until her knees are so weak I’ll have to carry her out of here like the conquest she’ll be.

“If you say no?” I ask. “There’s only one way to find out.”