This doesn’t make you nervous, does it?” Weston asks once he’s locked the door.

I shake my head no, even though my body quivers with anticipation. There’s a million things he could do to me right now, all of them enticing.

“You still want to move forward?” he asks, taking slow steps toward me as I try not to squirm in the chair across from his desk. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know, as long as you never question me. You’re agreeing to this, correct?”

I swallow hard, wondering what the hell I’m doing here. Am I crazy to get into a physical relationship with Weston Bridges, so hot, so rich, and so totally the owner of this whole publishing and media empire?

Yes, I am crazy. So crazy that I can’t help myself. I’m curious and I’m more than attracted to him. He leans back on his desk, standing right in front of me.

I look up at him, his smooth face and hard jaw, his eyes never hesitant when he looks at me. I know I’ll never get last night out of my mind; I need more.

“I agree,” I say.

“We’ll see about that. Mia, tell me: have you ever had a man’s tongue on your pussy?”

I almost gasp—in fact, I think I do make a shocked little sound.

“You can’t be shy with me,” Weston says. “Only honest. Have you?”

“No,” I manage to say. I want to bury my face in my hands from embarrassment. Instead I slip them under my thighs, my body stiff with nerves. This is heading in a direction I won’t be able to turn back from.

“Then it looks like I’m about to be the first,” he says.

His words sail through me, filling me with excitement and anxiety all rolled into one.

He stands from the desk, and I think he’s going to lean down to kiss me. Instead he walks away. “Come stand over here,” he says. He’s in front of the giant glass wall, the view out over Manhattan grand enough to give anyone a mild case of vertigo.

I go to him and stand facing him, feeling a little like a soldier ready for inspection—especially when he circles me, shamelessly looking me up and down. I can feel my palms sweating, and I shift on my heels to keep from falling over from nerves. I’m wearing a skirt that’s not as short as the one I wore last night to the BDSM club Weston took me to under the guise of doing research. The skirt may be longer but it’s possibly tighter, hugging all my curves. My heels are as high as any long-time city girl can wear, and this time I carried them in my bag here and wore flats on the subway ride in from my apartment.

Weston moves away from me to take a chair from the corner and drag it over to where I’m standing. He parks it five feet from me and sits down like he’s about to settle in to watch the game on a Sunday afternoon.

“Now,” he says. “Strip.”

“I’m sorry?” I ask, even though I heard him perfectly clear.

“Everything,” he says. “Off. Now.”

I look around the office, and toward his door. I know he locked it but…it’s the middle of the day. Light is streaming in through the big windows, and even though we’re high up—sixty-five floors high, to be exact—I feel like others in buildings a few blocks away might be able to see inside.

“Right here?” I ask. I’m standing in the middle of the room with nowhere to hide, not even a chair to stand behind.

“Right here, right now. Mia,” he says, leaning forward, elbows on knees. “Do not make me tell you twice.”

With my heart hammering in my chest I reach up to unbutton my blouse. I know I’m going slowly, but it’s not to try to tease Weston—it’s because I’m so nervous. I’ve never been naked in front of a man in my life.

I take off my blouse and drop it to the floor beside me. Then I unzip my skirt and step out of it. I can’t quite look at Weston, now that I’m practically naked. I want to keep going, but it’s not an easy thing to be asked to stand naked before the country’s most eligible billionaire bachelor.

I reach behind me to unhook my bra when Weston says, “Wait. Stop.”

He walks to me, and even though I’m nervous to shaking I’m also clenching in my panties, my body wet with desire. I think of last night outside the club, when he used his finger to send me into the throes of orgasm. I want him to touch me like that again—with his fingers, his dick…his mouth. I can hardly breath picturing it, wanting it.

Weston stands frustratingly close to me. He’s looking down at my cleavage, pressed up nicely in my lacy bra. Of course today, my panties match, since I got dressed knowing I’d see him. But that was a fantasy—I certainly didn’t expect this.

Weston clasps his hands behind his back and walks around me. He stops behind me; I shift to face him but he says, “I didn’t tell you to move. Face forward.” I do as he says, waiting eagerly for him to touch me. But he doesn’t. “Now the rest.”

I know he means to take off the tiny remaining bits of clothing—my bra and panties. He’s behind me, and it feels a bit easier to undress when he’s back there, not seeing my front. I drop my bra to the floor with the rest of my clothes, and then I carefully lower my panties and step out of them. I start to take off my shoes but he says, “No. They stay.”

Weston circles back around to the front. He moves the chair closer to me, sits on the edge and looks me over. My pussy is so eager for him it’s practically throbbing. My heart pounds under his intense gaze.

His eyes inspect me like I’m a piece of art. He rubs his hand across my belly, and I suck in a gasp of air, the fire of his hand alone making me even wetter. He traces his hand across my stomach, over my hip and down the side of my thigh. I stand perfectly still, perfectly quiet. He leans forward and kisses my stomach, my ribs, my hips. He trails his tongue lightly across my skin, sending shivers through my body.

When he drops to his knees in front of me, my breath catches in my throat. I can’t look down at him directly—it’s all too much, too overwhelming. He takes my hips in both his hands and digs his fingers into me.

“Are you wet for me, Mia?” he asks.

“Yes,” I whisper.

He runs his hand over my mound but goes no further.

“You’re wet just standing naked for me? What a horny girl you are.” He takes my hand and places it over me where his hand just was. “Do you ever play with yourself? Use your finger on yourself until you come?”

“No…”

“Oh, honey,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “I have a lot to teach you.”

He lets my hand fall by my side. He reaches behind him and drags the chair closer to his side, and then he begins kissing me again but more aggressively, holding my body close to his face.

“You’re so soft,” he mutters, his hands rubbing my naked ass while his tongue tastes my skin. The closer his mouth and face travel to my sex the wetter I feel, the more nervous I feel. His breath is hot on my skin, and when his mouth kisses my mound I feel my head spin.

He takes my knee and gently lifts and spreads my leg. He rests my foot, still in my high heels, on the chair beside him. My hand instinctively goes to cover myself up.

“Why would you do that?” Weston says. “Did I tell you to cover that beautiful pussy up? Come on, baby. Move your hands. Let me taste you.” He takes my wrists and moves them away, exposing me again. My knee is turning in, trying to minimize my exposure but Weston puts a stop to that too.

“I’m going to need to get some restraints for you,” he says. “Keep you under control. For now do you think I should tie you up?” He moves my hands behind my back and easily clasps them in one hand. He holds them tight, firm in his strong hands. “Tie your hands behind your back? Maybe tie your legs wide open so I can get a good long look at you?” With his free hand he strokes my soaked pussy with his fingers, and I have to concentrate on not making a sound. It feels like a release, finally having his hands on me, slipping in me. Suddenly I don’t care that I’m opened up before him.

“You’re soaked,” he says. “I knew you would be.” He slowly slides his finger in and out of me, and I can feel myself clenching around his finger. “I bet you taste so sweet. Keep these legs spread for me. I want to taste all of you.”

When his wet tongue touches my wet pussy, I feel like the world stops. I have never felt such heat and intensity in my life. He drags his tongue across me, and I hope I don’t disappoint him. He goes across me several times, each time ending with a firm lick on my nub. He buries his face in me sucks gently, then a bit harder on it, making my head spin like crazy. I’m not sure how I’m still standing, but I’ll do anything to keep this feeling going.

Weston pulls back and says, “This pussy needs so much attention.” He uses his finger to pump me hard. “You need to get fucked, young lady.” He continues to use his finger on me as his tongue works my clit, flicking over it with the same intensity as his finger inside.

I’m breathing harder and harder the more he gives me, little whimpers coming from deep inside me—I can’t help myself. I’ve never felt such pleasure in my entire life. All my senses are screaming for more; I’m trying to stay quiet but I want him so much, my body needs him more than air. My hips buck into his face and he goes deeper inside me, pressing his face closer to my cunt, his tongue working wonders on me. Soon I can’t help myself; I dig my hand into his hair, holding him tight as my body tenses. My pussy clenches and I want to cry out as my body explodes and I pump hard onto his mouth.

“Jesus,” I mutter once the delirious wave passes over me and my senses slowly come back into focus. Weston gently lowers my leg from the chair and I stand on my wobbly feet. He helps to hold me steady with one hand as the other pulls the chair back in front of me. Weston sits down in it, holding my hand as he looks up at me. He’s so beautiful, so sexy that I can’t believe this man just did that to my body.

“Just as I imagined,” he says, and crudely wipes his hand across his mouth. “So sweet. So sexy. Now.” He leans back slightly in the chair. “Are you ready to return the favor?”