“First dates are always hard. It can be amazing, it can be terrifying, it can be exhilarating or disastrous. But there are a few things you can do to keep all of those adjectives on the positive side, starting with your expectations. Going on a first date is just a little bit like playing the lottery. You’re picking numbers at random hoping to win that one-in-a-million prize. In this case, the prize is love. But just like the lottery, while you should be hopeful, you should also be realistic.”

—Tips for a Good First Date, Heartmakers.com

I grab my phone off my desk as soon as I make it back to my office. In fact, I almost knock over my coffee because I’m in such a hurry. I text Alice a quick summary of what just happened. She texts back a stream of expletives and exclamation points and emojis. Then, words.

Are you sure?

Pretty damn sure. And I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m so into him. I told myself this morning that I couldn’t do this, that I couldn’t mess this up. And some other girls told me he that he doesn’t sleep with co-workers so I thought that everything was fine. But now there’s this! This is bad, isn’t it?

You’ve had this job for one day. And it’s the first job I can remember you ever having that you’ve liked. I know he’s hot but don’t throw it away for him.

You’re right. I know you’re right.

I am right. Love you!

I put the phone down on the desk. Get yourself together girl. It’s flattering that he has the same instinctual reaction to me that I’m having to him, but we can’t do this. It’s not a good idea. I take a sip of the coffee and I try the doughnut. Caffeine and sugar. Just what I need.

I can’t write this article if I’m constantly thinking about him and all the stuff we could do together. Pulling up the document from yesterday, I find the article pitch about first dates. It’s pretty simple, just a piece offering suggestions about avoiding the most obvious pitfalls of first dates. I can do that. I haven’t had a whole lot of really good first dates myself, as my blog can easily show. But I’ll give it my best shot.

I try to lose myself in the article like I did yesterday, but I can’t. Yesterday I used Chance and my fantasies about him to finish the article. If I do that today, I’m afraid that my brain will go down a path that I can’t come back from.

I start on the article, and it goes okay. It doesn’t flow the way the first one did, though. I get more coffee and try again. Usually when I’m having trouble writing a blog post, I leave it for a couple of days and come back. Or I take a few hours off and focus on other things. Here in the office I can’t really do that. I should find a few diversions to keep here for when I need a break. I’ve never worked in an office like this before, but I don’t think anyone could just write for eight hours straight.

Before I know it, it’s five o’clock, and I’m still not done with the piece. For whatever reason, I can’t find a good way to finish. I’ve gotten through most of it, but I’m not sure what to say about ending a date. There are so many variables, all based on how the date went, how attracted you are to the person, what kind of vibe you get from them. Dealing with all of the variables would make the article way too long and boring, but I can’t just skip the end of the night.

I’m stuck.

I don’t want to give up, but when I look up, an hour has gone by and I haven’t written anything else. I may just have to tell Chance that I need the night to think about the ending. But I’ll give it a few more minutes. Maybe there’s some hope that inspiration is just around the corner.

I swivel in my chair and look at the evening view. This time of summer the sun is still pretty high in the sky, but the city is glowing with the fading light. It’s reflecting off windows in shades of bronze and gold, and all of downtown Manhattan is sparkling.

“You’re still here.”

Chance’s voice surprises me for the second time today, and I swivel around to see him. “Yeah. I’m having trouble ending the article. There’s just…a lot to think about when ending a first date.”

He leans against the door frame like it was put there just so he could. “That’s okay. The one article per day thing was just an idea. You can take as much time as you need. You could even work on more than one at a time if that works better for you.”

“Okay,” I say, running a hand across my face. “I’m at least going to take the night to think about how it should end.”

He nods. “Most people have left for the day. Care for a drink?”

I look at him, and I don’t know what I’m talking about. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Chance pauses, and the air between us goes taut, both of us thinking about the unsaid things in the room. “Just a drink. I’ve got a stash I save for special days, and I can show you the best part about this building.”

“All right,” I say. “Just a drink?”

“Just a drink.”

I make sure to save my progress before I follow him out the door.

* * *

When you’re on the ground in Manhattan, you never really think about the roofs of buildings. But they exist, and I don’t know if they’re all like this one, but the one that Chance just led me to is fucking beautiful. There’s nothing up here but open air, and a couple of chairs which clearly don’t belong up here.

Chance grabbed a bottle and two glasses before he led me to the stairs, and he sits in one of the chairs and pours us each a drink. I take the other chair, and lean back, taking in the same view as my office but bigger, better. With the wind in my hair and the fading sun on my skin it’s positively glorious. “You come up here often?” I ask.

“Not as often as I’d like,” he says, taking a sip of his drink. “But this is where I come when I need some inspiration. It sounded like you could use some.”

“That’s really sweet of you.”

He gives me a half-smile, “I try to give my employees the tools they need to do their jobs well.”

“I appreciate that. I want to do well. Like I said yesterday, I don’t exactly have the best history, and I think I could actually be good at this.”

Chance laughs. “You’re already good at this, Caroline. I never would have thought to frame the one-night stand article through the lens of a couple in that way.”

I blush instantly. “That…just came to me.”

“Is that look because it’s a story from personal experience?”

“No,” I say, laughing. “Not actual personal experience. Just something that I wished would happen.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Yeah.”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, cradling his glass in front of him. “I guess I assumed because of your blog—are you single?”

“Are you asking me that out of pure curiosity or for another reason?”

He doesn’t meet my eyes. “Would it matter?”

I knock back the drink he’s given me in one go, savoring the burn. “I’ve worked here officially for not even a day, and I was already told that you have a strict no dating policy. I don’t want to ruin this opportunity by jumping into bed with the boss. Even if the boss is all I can seem to think about.”

He glances up at that, and gives me a wicked little smirk. “There are lots of places beside beds that I can think of.”

“Mr. Montgomery—”

“Chance.”

“Chance,” I repeat after him, and it feels good to say his name. “What about your policy?”

He finishes his drink. “You’re right. I have had that policy. It’s easier in some ways, because you don’t have to worry about having exes in the office, and you don’t have to worry about employees flirting with you. Especially when you don’t know if they’re flirting with you for you or because they’re trying to get ahead with their career.”

I notice that he’s leaned closer to me, and I can’t help but match his progress, leaning closer toward him. “Then this can’t happen,” I say. “No matter if we want it to.”

“You know when I stumbled on your blog, I loved your voice. I thought the way that you wrote things was funny and clever and vibrant.” I blush at his words, but he doesn’t stop. “And then you walked into my office, and you were…not what I was expecting. I don’t even know what I was expecting, but you were beautiful and adorably clumsy and you have this talent and it’s been all I can do not to kiss you every time I’m close enough.”

He’s moved closer again, and I can see the sincerity in his eyes. “You’re close enough now,” I say.

“Yes I am.”

“But this is a bad idea.”

He nods. “It probably is.” And then he kisses me. It’s everything I was hoping for and more. It’s pure light and I feel like I’m on an updraft and never going to come down. I’m fizzing with it like a glass of champagne and his lips are perfect and oh God. I’m kissing Chance, and I swore that I wouldn’t. I swore.

I pull away. “I’m sorry. We can’t. I don’t want to risk this.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his hand finds its way to the back of my neck and he pulls me back to him. Our lips meet again, and there’s only so much that that I can resist. I feel my body give in before my mind, and then I let go because this is by far the best kiss I’ve ever had.

“You’re sure this is all right?” I ask against his lips.

His voice is a growl. “This is more than all right. This is perfect.”

I’m in his lap somehow, like we came together and I didn’t even notice. The way I’m straddling him, I can feel he’s hard, and I’m thinking the rumors about how big he is are true. “The article,” I say, breathless. “Even though I’m going to write about how to go home with someone if you want to, I usually don’t. I rarely have sex with someone unless I’ve been out with them a few times. Never this fast.”

His hand is still firmly planted behind my neck, and his thumb caresses my collarbone. “How far do you want this to go right now?”

“There’s what I should say,” I bite my lip, “and what I actually want.”

“You think that you should say to stop.”

I nod.

“Let me tell you a secret that I’ve learned watching people getting together and breaking up and getting together again.” He pulls my mouth to his. “It’s always better to admit what you want.”

And then he’s kissing me again, and I moan because it’s perfect. I do want him. I want him with that wild, animal instinct that made me almost fall over when I walked into his office. I want him because he’s given me everything I could want. I want him because I know that as long as I’m around him, I’ll always want him, and I’ll always wonder what it would be like. It was going to happen. I can feel the certainty of it between our lips, and in the way his fingers start unbuttoning my shirt.

I hesitate for only a second. “Here?”

He chuckles softly, and gives me a pointed look. “With rare exceptions, I don’t like to share things like this. I’m the only one with the key.”

Something about hearing that unlocks whatever’s been holding me back, and I kiss him again. I shrug out of my shirt and toss it onto the other chair and go to work on his buttons. I break away from our kiss so I can watch as I unveil Chance’s gorgeous chest—tan and lean with lines that show me he works hard for this body. He catches me around the waist, leaning forward so that I can help him out of his shirt and suddenly we’re skin to skin. It feels like fire and light and sparks and we’re not even naked. Holy fuck. I was stupid to think that this was not going to happen. We’re on this train going eighty miles an hour and jumping off now would kill us both.

Chance deftly unhooks my bra and adds it to the pile of clothes, and I shiver from the exposure. I’ve never been naked in public like this. We’re on one of the tallest buildings, but not the tallest. Someone could conceivably look down from one of the skyscrapers and see the two of us going at it. And I don’t care.

I gasp, my head falling back as Chance gathers my breasts into his hands. Squeezing, kneading, and bringing them to his lips. His mouth covers one nipple, and then the other, tongue swirling and sending eddies of sensation swimming straight down to my clit. I reach down between us, blindly feeling for his belt while he feasts on me. I want to see him—know if the rumors are true, and even if they aren’t, it’s not going to stop me.

I’m not sure how I manage to get his belt unbuckled with the way his lips and tongue are moving on my skin, but I do. And then the button, and then the zipper, and then…

I lean back and look down. Chance’s cock is straining through the cloth of his boxers, and I’m almost nervous to release it, but I do.

Oh. My. God. I realize that I said it out loud. Chance has the biggest cock that I’ve ever seen. I’d thought when the girls were telling me that he was big that it was exaggerated, or that he’d be like…a normal big. But this isn’t normal big. This is porn star big. This is so big that every other cock retreats in shame.

And they got the other part right too, two metal studs decorate the head of his cock, the metal emphasizing the sheer size of him. I glance back up into his face, and he’s wearing a wicked smirk. I shake my head. “That’s not going to fit inside me.”

“Yes it will.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

He pulls me against him again, his cock now a steel rod between us. “It will. I happen to know how to use my cock, and I’m very good at it. Just like everything I do.”

“But—”

A kiss silences my protest. “Don’t run,” he says softly. “We’ll go slow. Let me show you how good it can be.”

I glance down, still not believing that I’ll be able to take that. But the thought of him using that to my advantage, to bring me pleasure, makes me shudder with anxious anticipation. I step back, standing so I can take off my pants, and Chance retrieves a condom from his wallet. It’s stamped with the Heart Makers logo, and he smiles when I raise an eyebrow. “People think it’s clever when you hand them one instead of a business card.”

He has a point, that is clever marketing for this kind of company. I can’t help but stare at him as he rolls on the condom. It’s just…so big. There’s no other way to talk about it. He sheds the rest of his clothes and then he’s standing naked in front of me and it’s everything that I imagined and more. Artists could use him as a model if they were sculpting Greek gods. And his cock is there, jutting toward me, straight and proud and huge. Arousal rolls through me.

We’re kissing again and he pulls me back onto his lap, fingers finding my clit. I gasp against his lips, letting the shivery pleasure spread across my skin while he deepens the kiss. A breeze chills me while his body warms me and it feels like I’m caught in a storm of sensation. Chance’s mouth moves to my neck, to my chest, and his fingers tease me until I’m grinding against his hand. I love it.

He brings me all the way to the edge. I’m panting against his skin, so close to coming. I can feel an orgasm hovering on the horizon. I’m so close I think that the next breeze might send me over. But he doesn’t let it. Instead, he pulls away, lifting me higher and fitting the head of his cock against me. Just the tip of him feels bigger than anything I’ve ever taken.

Slowly, so slowly, Chance pushes the head of his cock inside me, and I come without warning. Pleasure bursts outward through my skin and I can’t even cry out because I’m so surprised. It’s a silent, shuddering orgasm and I have to hold onto him so I don’t fall over. “Oh God,” I say, and I keep saying it.

He rocks his hips, pushing deeper in tiny increments, and I glance down when I feel full and realize that I’ve barely taken half of him. My breath goes short, and I can feel the strange sensation of the studs as he pushes in deeper. “Chance,” I say. “It’s too much.”

I meet his eyes, and he pauses. “You’re not full yet.”

“I know, but—”

“Does it hurt?”

I shake my head no, my pussy tightening around him. There’s a chance that I might be wetter than I’ve ever been in my life, and I don’t want to stop. The pause helps. My body adjusts, and I suddenly feel more at ease. I know I can take more, and I want to feel what it’s like to have all of him inside me—or as much as will fit. I bite my lip and lower myself further, and Chance helps me. I sink deeper and deeper, until it feels like I can’t take any more, and even then I take a little more.

There’s so much of Chance inside me that I can barely breathe. I can’t squeeze him, I’m so stretched. I’m on the roof of a New York City skyscraper, and it’s like I’m on top of the world and full of the world and I’ve never felt anything like this. I’m frozen in place, bound and impaled on him, unable to get used to the feeling of being so full. It feels good. Impossibly good, and we’re not even moving.

There’s just the tiniest movement, Chance lifting his hips, but I feel that movement for what seems like miles. Because I’m so full, there’s friction everywhere and even the smallest movement sets all those nerves on fire and has me shaking. He pulls me down to kiss him, a soft kiss that has me melting, relaxing, leaning into the feeling of being connected like this.

Oh my God, we’re really doing this. A light snaps on in my mind, and I remember where we are. On the roof, entirely naked, and Chance is inside me. If my mouth weren’t already occupied by his tongue, I’d have a stupidly happy grin on my face.

Chance’s fingers find my clit again, and I moan with the pleasure of it. I can feel myself grow wetter around his cock, and those tiny movements of his hips are amplified. Damn it, he wasn’t wrong. He does know how to use it. I’m overloaded with the feeling of him and I think I might come again. It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex and I’ve never felt anything like this. I’ve heard of people who will only date people with giant cocks, and now…I think I can understand why. I don’t ever want it to end.

He moves his hands to my hips, fingers gripping me and holding me in place as he moves a little more. And then more. He’s steadily increasing his speed, pulling out a little further each time, and every stroke is delicious pleasure on top of pleasure. I lean back, feeling the setting sun on my face while he fucks me, and I think I could stay in this place, right here, forever. When the orgasm comes, I let it take me.

I’m too overwhelmed by it to say anything, to make any noise. He’s literally fucked the voice right out of me and I couldn’t care less. Chance’s hands land on my ass, and he grips hard. “Don’t move.”

I open my eyes when I feel our balance shift. He stands, holding me to him, never letting us separate as he reverses our positions and places me in the chair. “Oh, fuck.” The words are pulled out of me because this is so much tighter. Every line of him is pressed up against me and it’s worse and better as he presses my knees closer to my chest.

I can look down and see the way our bodies are connected and a rush of pure heat floods my system. I’m so wet and ready and I don’t know what to feel because I’m feeling too much. “Caroline,” Chance says, and I look up to meet his eyes. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” I say right away. “Good. I feel good. Really good.” There’s got to be more words than ‘good,’ but I can’t seem to find them right now.

He smiles a wicked smile that makes me shudder with anticipation. “That’s good,” he says. “Because I’m going to fuck you now.”

I have to close my eyes because he thrusts in and pleasure bursts behind my eyes like fireworks. “You weren’t fucking me yet?”

Chance chuckles and captures my lips for a kiss. “Not even close.” And then he thoroughly proves his words to be true. Plunging in and pulling back, I can feel every inch of him. I don’t think I’ve appreciated the concept of friction in my life until now. I’m coming apart around him, not quite there but so close, almost drawing in the pleasure of it, and now my voice is back. I can’t stop the moans that are coming out of my mouth, and they’re only getting louder.

I can feel the studs of his piercing, brushing against that spot deep inside me that I don’t think any other guy has been able to hit. Every stroke taps against that spot, a bright pop of fizzy pleasure that spreads through the rest of me, heightening, honing, and drawing me toward the edge.

Looking down, I watch him fuck me. I see that massive cock disappearing inside me, and I’m taking almost all of him. I can’t look away, and watching is the thing I need that sends me over. I cry out, my pussy trying to squeeze him, trying to get more pleasure from him. And he doesn’t stop thrusting through the orgasm; he’s taking me straight into the next one.

Thank God the wind is stealing my voice away because I can’t stop screaming, and anyone listening would have no doubt about what’s happening. I’m looking at Chance and his eyes have gone dark with lust and arousal. He’s grunting softly with the effort and I can see that he’s close. I squeeze down on him as much as I can, and he closes his eyes, groaning.

I’m still on the tail end of the last orgasm, and I can’t even remember how many times I’ve come. It’s like my body doesn’t know how to handle all of the sensation and so it keeps overflowing. Chance reaches in between us, circling my clit with his thumb, and I can’t hold on anymore. I scream, the echo of it jumping back to me from other skyscrapers. It’s the biggest one yet and I can’t stop. Chance thrusts in deeply, with purpose, and again, and again, and I feel him jerk inside me as he finds his pleasure. His groan is low, deep. It sends goosebumps across my skin.

My body is shaking in the aftermath, little spasms on my skin and in my muscles. Neither of us move, just breathing together, with him still buried inside of me.

“You were right,” I finally say after I’ve caught my breath and come back to myself enough to speak.

“About what?”

I smile, leaning my head back against the chair. “It was more than all right, and it was perfect.”

Chance kisses me, not soft or gentle. This is deep and possessive and arousing. It raises up all the feelings I just felt and makes me want to ask for more. But before I can, he pulls away. “I’m glad.”

Together, we retrieve our clothing, and Chance helps me dress with a tenderness that’s unexpected after everything. We don’t really talk, because there’s nothing left to say. I don’t even protest when he puts me in a cab home instead of letting me take the subway. I’m still fuzzy, still overwhelmed and blissed-out. He kisses me one final time before closing the door to the cab.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says.

“Yeah,” I say. “Tomorrow.”