Daria
I slid into the backseat of my car, the city lights blurring past as my driver pulled away from the office. My body was still buzzing from the aftermath of Nate’s touch, his hands, his mouth, the way he’d filled me. The 'Daria Page' had just f****d her new assistant barely forty-eight hours in.
“Home, Ms. Page?” my driver asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.
“Y-yes,” I blurted, blinking rapidly as I stared out the window.
My penthouse was dark when I arrived. I kicked off my heels and sank onto the couch, replaying the chaotic events of the night. It had been years since I’d let anyone touch me like that. My last fling was a blurry one-night stand couple years ago but before that, it had been a string of failed dates, men intimidated by my ambition and too weak to keep up. I’d
