“I know it may be cliché, but elevators…let’s just say I know from personal experience that elevators can be an excellent place to spice up your relationship—even if the sex is still amazing. There’s something about the thrill that makes the risk worth it.”

—How to Spice Up Your Sex Life, Heartmakers.com

The next few days pass in a whirlwind of writing and kissing and secret exchanges. I have my first photoshoot, and even though I’ve never loved photos of me, Emily was right. Jeffrey is a genius who makes me look amazing. And Emily was sweet to me the whole time at the photoshoot, without a hint of the weird jealously I thought I had sensed.

In between working on articles, Chance will pop into my office and sweep me off to lunch, or into his office where we’ve nearly been caught doing naughty things twice more. And once to the floor below ours to a dark and empty conference room where he took me on the table until I was screaming. He claims that no one works close enough to that room to have heard me, but I’m not sure that he’s not just saying that to make me feel better.

And on top of that, the first article debuted to rather ridiculous success. With Heart Makers being in the news and advertised everywhere, the post went viral. The comments have been crazy, but mostly positive. It’s strange how everything has fallen into place. Part of me thinks that because everything is so perfect, the other shoe has to drop at some point. But for now it’s great, and even though it’s been barely a week, I feel like I’m living a whole new life.

I do feel a little guilty that I still haven’t told Alice about Chance. I don’t want to see the disappointment on her face that I did the exact thing that I said I wasn’t going to do. And even though Chance says secrets never lead anywhere good, I want this to stay quiet for a little while. I will tell her, but I’ve never had something like this before, and I want to enjoy it for a little bit before I spill all the gory details to her.

On top of that, now that I’m making money, I’m making plans to move out and I don’t know how to tell her that. I’m sure she’ll be happy for me, but as cramped as her apartment is with the two of us, and even with the inconvenience it sometimes causes, we have a really good time living together. I don’t want to spring moving out on her along with the new boyfriend. It might make her feel like I’m just moving on entirely, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

I grab some coffee from the break room, waving to some people hanging around, and head to my office. The fact that I now have a routine is really comforting to me. I’ve always liked structure, but I hadn’t realized how much I needed it until I started coming in here every day. It settles my mind. I sit down at my desk and check the emails that came in overnight. There’s one from the PR department that immediately catches my eye.

It’s letting me know that someone is spreading a story about me, and linking to Rock Bottom Caroline. They want to know if they should delete the comment, even though the poster has spread it to multiple places. We haven’t been secretive about the fact that I’m the same writer. Views for my blog have gone through the fucking roof since the first article, and I’ve gotten a lot of messages from people praising how funny and insightful it is. This person…doesn’t agree.

I click on the link which is the original comment on the one-night-stand piece.

Caroline McLean’s bio says she’s a talented writer with a unique view on dating in New York City. It turns out she’s actually just a FAKE BITCH who mocks anyone who dares to write her on a dating site, or even worse, ask her out. She’s not only a dating failure, but cruel. No one deserves to be mocked like the men on her blog, and she should think hard about her next steps. Because actions have consequences.

He includes a link to Rock Bottom Caroline at the bottom of his comment. And even though there are plenty of replies defending me, I get goosebumps while I read it again. This doesn’t sound like a random commenter who doesn’t like the fact that I’m encouraging women to take power in their one-night stands—and there have been plenty of those. This comment feels oddly personal, though I can’t think of anyone who would write it.

I tell PR to delete the comment, and see that the newest article, the one about spicing up your sex life, has been posted. Chance and I agreed that the ending of the first date article needed a little bit more work before we publish it, so we went with the sexier piece first. If it has even half the response of the first article, I’ll be happy.

I proceed to work, even though the comment still haunts me. There’s some people talking about it on twitter, and the same anonymous poster made an identical comment on my blog even though I haven’t posted anything there since I started working for Heart Makers. There have been some other nasty comments in response, some trolls coming out of the woodwork in response to one of their own. But none of them creep me out in the way that that one does. I try to ignore it, but it sits in the back of my mind.

It’s just after noon when there’s a knock at my door, and I look up to find Chance standing there. The smile that comes to my face is instant. “Hi.”

He comes over and leans down to kiss me. “Hello.”

I stretch in my chair and he comes around, hands landing on my shoulders in a welcome massage. He sees my computer screen, which is half open to the article I’m working on and half showing the discussion of the bad comment on twitter.

He glances at the tweets, quickly picking up on the general tone. “What happened?”

I shake my head and wave it off. “Some troll posted something on the one-night stand article last night. It’s fine, just your regular internet bullshit. This one just felt…weird to me. But it’s nothing to worry about. It’s my own fault—you shouldn’t read the comments.”

“Okay.” He says it in a tone that tells me he’ll be monitoring it, but I don’t mind. He’s been watching the response to the new features pretty closely, so he would have found out anyway. “The reason I came by was to see if, since it’s Friday and I’m your boss, if you’d like to play hooky with me for the rest of the day.”

I smile, even though he’s behind me and can’t see it. “And what would we do while we were playing hooky?”

“Well,” he says, leaning down and wrapping his arms around me from behind, “I thought that we’d go back to my place and maybe try a few of those ways to spice up your sex life.”

“I don’t really think our sex life needs spicing up just yet.” But the way he’s kissing my neck could damn well convince me.

“I don’t either, but those are still some fun things to try.”

I turn to look at him. “And no one will care if the CEO disappears in the middle of the work day?”

“It’s Friday and everything that I needed to do is done. If there’s something dire, that’s what email is for.”

“Well, in that case,” I give an exaggerated sigh, “I suppose playing hooky wouldn’t be terrible.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

* * *

Chance’s apartment is huge and gorgeous. I shouldn’t have expected anything less, but it still makes my jaw drop when I walk in the door. The style and vibe is very similar to his office: wide open space with lots of glass and clean lines. We’re on the Upper West Side now, so the building is older but the apartment’s interior is fully updated and modern. I love it.

“This is beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he says, and it’s not just the words. He means it. “It’s one of my pet projects, architecture and design. I put a lot of work into this place and into the offices downtown. I don’t really get a lot of time to work on things like that, but when I do I enjoy myself.”

I look around at what I can see of the apartment with a new appreciation. “Well you seem to be really good at it.” A thought hits me. “So did you design my office?”

He’s wearing a shy smile. “Yeah.”

My jaw drops. “I don’t think I ever told but I love that office. The first time you showed it to me I kept thinking that I couldn’t have designed a better space for myself if I had been the one to do it.”

Chance’s smile turns bold and wicked as he pulls me further into the apartment. “Oh really?”

“Definitely.”

I glance at the rooms we’re passing, and Chance notices. “I’ll give you a tour later.”

“After what?”

“After you thank me for how much you love your office,” he says with a playful light in his eyes.

“I knew I shouldn’t have played hooky with you,” I say, laughing. “So impatient.”

“Yes, I am,” he says, suddenly serious. He pulls me into a bedroom that’s almost the size of his office, with a bed that seems to go on for miles. Dark walls and navy accents are scattered through the room, and that’s all I manage to see before Chance draws my gaze back to him. “I have you in my apartment and I’m about to have you in my bed for the first time, of course I’m impatient.” He weaves his hand into my hair, tilting my head back to he can give me a searing kiss that leaves me weak in the knees.

I lose track of time in the kiss, and when he pulls back, I have to take a second before I open my eyes. “Wow.”

His hands are still in my hair, and he keeps me looking at him. “Undress me.”

Raising an eyebrow, I resist the urge to smile. “Is that an order?”

“Yes, it is,” he says, smirking. “And feel free to take as long as you like, because once it’s your turn, I’m going to take my time.”

I run my hands up his chest and push the suit jacket off his shoulders onto the floor. “In that case, I’d better get started.”

He laughs softly, but the laughing dies when I start to unbutton his shirt and press my lips to his skin beneath. I enjoy the time I take with this, because finding stolen moments in the office doesn’t allow me to appreciate his body in this way—and there’s a hell of a lot to appreciate.

I trace my lips and tongue along the lines of his shoulders, and then his chest and stomach—I swear I could spend hours worshipping his abs if I didn’t know there were even better things waiting below. Chance is already hardening through his pants, and I stroke him through the fabric, my eyes never leaving his as I undo his belt and shove his pants to the ground. He steps out of them and his shoes, and it’s nothing but him in his boxer briefs, which are doing next to nothing to hide his enormous erection.

Stroking him through the fabric again, I notice the way Chance tenses, hands tightening into fists as he struggles with the pleasure I’m giving him. I hook my fingers into the waistband and tug them free, revealing his cock, which stands straight outward proudly. I take him in my hand, and tease him, feeling him harden further under my fingers. “What do you want?” I ask. “Do you want my mouth on your cock?”

He gives me a wolf’s grin. “I always want that. But right now, I want you naked and in my bed.” He steps behind me, peeling the blazer off of my shoulders, and dropping a kiss to one to them. Pulling me to him, I can feel his erection pressed against my back as he lifts my shirt and smooths his hands over my skin, my breasts, my nipples. Then my bra is gone too, and he has perfect access to play.

Chance toys with me, my nipples hardening to the point of pain under his attention. I’m overwhelmed by his presence, wrapped around me, pressed against me, warm and insistent. He reaches down and unbuttons my slacks, his hand making a quick move into my panties, not doing anything, but gently resting just shy of my clit. Now I’m hanging on the anticipation of when he’ll touch me there. When he’ll move. I step out of my pants and kick aside my shoes, but his hand stays glued to my skin. I’m in nothing but panties now, and I’m soaking wet. There’s nothing between us but a piece of fabric, and as soon as that little barrier is gone, there will be nothing but pleasure.

But he doesn’t finish undressing me. He scoops me up, carrying me to the bed and laying me down. And for a second he stands above me, looking down at me with awe and hunger like I’m a feast laid out just for him. Crawling up my body, his mouth lands at my collarbone first. And then I’m lost in the feeling of his lips.

Chance is carving a path down my body with his mouth, and his tongue is leaving a trail of fire. I’m arching into him because I don’t know why something so simple feels so good, but it does and I want more. His tongue swirls around one nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth, and I swear I feel it drive straight down to my pussy. I’m getting wetter, more desperate, with every touch of his lips, and by the time he moves on from my breasts, I’m writhing underneath him.

He licks down my stomach, stopping short of the waistband of my panties. I can’t even breathe because I want him to touch so badly. “Please,” I say, my voice more breath than voice, and I spread my legs further apart.

“What do you want?” he asks, reflecting my question back at me. “Do you want my tongue in your pussy?”

“Yes.”

Gently, he touches my clit through the fabric of my panties, and I shudder. And then his mouth is there, stroking me, the friction of his tongue and the added friction of the cloth driving me mad. Finally, after what feels like forever, he hooks his fingers in my waistband and removes my underwear, tossing them away. But he doesn’t skip a beat. He pushes my legs even further apart, holding them there while his mouth plunders my pussy. His tongue is everywhere and I’m already coming. I can’t help it, the shuddering pleasure rumbling through me like an earthquake, and I’m moaning for him to please not stop. Please keep going.

He obliges me, and I’m gripping the sheets, trying to keep still as he licks into me again and again, bringing me back to the edge with confidence and certainty. The pleasure builds faster this time, already there and waiting, and I cry out as I climax, my whole body arching off the bed with it. Chance seals his mouth over me as I come, sucking me like he would die if he didn’t and the orgasm just keeps going. I’m blind with it, spent, heaving breaths.

Chance climbs up my body again, straddling my hips and leaning over me. I can taste myself in his kiss which is strange and intimate and erotic, and I like it. He smiles against my lips. “Should we keep track of the number of times I make you come today?”

“Are you going for some kind of record?”

“Pride, mostly.”

“Ooh,” I say, reaching between us and stroking my fingers against his cock. “I see. You want to be able to say ‘I made my girlfriend come this many times in one day.’”

“I also imagine it might be a good bargaining tool if we ever fight. I can tell you ‘remember the day I made you come ten times?’”

“Ten? That’s a little ambitious.”

He nips my lips, teasing me into a kiss. “I just made you come twice, and I have you for the rest of the day. You don’t think I can make the other eight?”

I have no doubt that he can, but I’m going to make him prove it anyway. “I’m really going to enjoy you trying either way,” I say with a laugh.

Chance rolls off me and retrieves a condom from this bedside drawer. “Let’s start now.” He rolls the condom on, and he’s back between my legs, guiding his cock to my entrance. Even though I know he’ll fit, and that I’ll love it, I’m not sure I’ll get over the split-second panic when I see how big he is. But right now, after the work his talented mouth did, I’m so wet that he eases in without any trouble at all. I’m already relaxed and I’m not afraid of his size anymore. Every time it’s been easier, and he slips into the hilt without having to stop.

The way he fills me still makes me short of breath in the best way. Already, my body is primed for orgasm, and I groan, because Chance is determined, and it’s entirely possible that he’s going to make me come more than ten times. When this day is over, I’m going to be nothing but a puddle of pleasure on his floor.

He sits back, settled between my legs, and he looks at me. He idly draws a finger down my chest, tracing down between my breasts and circling around my belly button to rest against my clit. “I love that you can take all of me,” he says.

“I love that too,” I say, back arching as he pulls back and thrusts in. That little added push from his piercing when he’s this deep inside me is everything. He continues with little thrusts, circling his hips and making me wetter, letting him slide in an out easier. Those fingers tease my clit and I’m squirming again and I want him to make me come again. I want him to move. I want him to fuck me.

I catch his hand as it moves and pull him down to me again. “Fuck me,” I say to him. “Now.”

“I’ve been teasing you for a reason,” he says. “I’ve been holding back.”

“What do you mean?” He’s still moving his hips in ways that are sparking of pleasure in my body and my brain is blurry with it.

“I mean that when you’re as…well-endowed as I am, you have to be careful. But you can take all of me, and now that you’re in my bed, I want to fuck you. Really fuck you. I’m going to have you screaming my name so loudly that the entire building will hear it.”

Oh God. My mind flashes to the sex that we’ve had, intense and hot and mind-blowingly good. I would never have thought that he was holding back at all, and if he really was, then I might die from the pleasure of it.

I kiss him, and our tongues dance together. He growls against my lips, and pulls back, only to drive into me. And I know instantly that he wasn’t lying about holding back. He fucks me with a determined and focused force that blows everything else out of my mind, and a swift, brutal orgasm follows.

Wrapping my legs around his waist, I pull him closer, embracing him through the pleasure. I’m clinging to him like I’m drowning because I am, and I surrender to it. It feels like hours of pleasure, I can’t keep track of time or space, I can barely keep my eyes open. Chance grinds his hips into me, and now every stroke brushes across my clit, taking me higher, and I’ve lost any ability to keep quiet or hold back.

I’m telling him yes, yes, yes, more please and the next time I come it’s like lightning, and the time after that like thunder. And I do scream his name, loudly, wildly, shaking with pleasure and unsure if I’ll survive anymore.

Chance plunges deep into me and holds, crying out as he climaxes. Now that we’re both still I feel that he’s shaking too, and he lets himself rest over me. We’re breathing together, coming down from the storm and trying to catch our breath. He leaves me for a moment to clean himself up, and then he’s back, pulling me against him and wrapping us in a soft blanket that I have no idea where it came from.

There’s a kiss on my neck, just below my ear. “Five down, five to go,” he says softly.

“Mmm,” I say. “That sounds nice. But you’re going to have to feed me first.”

His laugh echoes through the room. “I’ll make sure of it.”

And then I drift off to sleep, mind hazy, body sated.