Open House, Closed Doors

Chapter 1: The Showing

I’ve been in real estate for a decade, but nothing prepared me for Sarah. She strutted into my office on her first day as an intern, all sharp edges and fiery ambition, her tight pencil skirt hugging every curve of her hips. I’m Hugo, the guy who’s supposed to show her the ropes, but damn, all I can think about is how that skirt would look hiked up around her waist. Her dark hair falls in waves over her shoulders, and those piercing green eyes? They could close a deal—or a man—without a word. She’s not just a pretty face; she’s got a tongue as quick as her mind, and I’m already hooked.

Today, we’re showing a luxury penthouse downtown. The place is a wet dream of glass walls and marble floors, but I can’t focus on the million-dollar view when Sarah’s standing there, clipboard in hand, her blouse unbuttoned just enough to tease the swell of her breasts. 'So, Hugo,' she says, her voice dripping with challenge, 'you gonna teach me how to sell this place, or are you just gonna stare at my ass all day?' I smirk, leaning against the kitchen island, trying to play it cool while my cock is already stirring at the thought of her. 'I’m multitasking, Sarah. Appreciating the assets—both the property and otherwise.'

She laughs, sharp and unapologetic, stepping closer until I can smell the faint citrus of her perfume. 'Careful, boss. I’m not here to be your eye candy. I’m here to outsell you.' Her confidence is a fucking turn-on, and I can’t help but imagine bending her over this counter, her smart mouth moaning my name. 'Oh, I’d love to see you try,' I retort, my voice low, testing the waters. 'But let’s see if you can handle the heat before you start making promises.'

Her eyes flash with something dangerous, and she steps even closer, her hip brushing against mine. 'Heat? Hugo, I’m a goddamn inferno. Question is, can you keep up?' My pulse races, and I’m hard as hell now, the tension between us crackling like a live wire. I glance at her flat, sexy stomach peeking out from under her blouse as she adjusts her stance, and I’m damn near losing it. That toned, smooth skin—I want to run my tongue over every inch of it, taste the sweat I know I could make her drip with.

Before I can respond, she turns, walking toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, her ass swaying with every step. 'This view is killer,' she says over her shoulder, but I know she’s not talking about the skyline. My mind is a haze of lust, picturing her pressed against that glass, panting, wet for me. I step up behind her, close enough to feel the heat of her body, my breath hot on her neck. 'You’re playing a dangerous game, Sarah,' I murmur, my voice rough with need. She tilts her head, smirking. 'Good. I don’t play safe.'

My hands itch to grab her, to pull her against me and feel how horny she’s making me, but I hold back—just barely. I can already imagine her moans, the way she’d make me feel so fucking good, her pussy tight and dripping as I lose myself in her. We’re seconds away from crossing a line, the air between us thick with unspoken promises of raw, explosive pleasure. And I know, as I watch her lips curve into a wicked smile, that this showing is about to become a whole lot more personal.