His Temporary Assistant

I fell back on my elbows. “This isn’t a good idea.”

He scooted forward and stretched me open. “Isn’t that my line?”

“Yes, why I’m trying to remind you…fuck.”

He tugged my panties aside and lightly licked over the skin just beside my slit. “Oh, yes. We’ll get to that, but first, we’ll have to see if I can get you to say my na

me.”

I dropped my head back. “Don’t bet on it.”

Then his mouth did all the talking for him as well as those very, very disciplined fingers. I stared at the ceiling tiles above us and tried to hold out.

I’d meditated away my fear through a tornado in Kansas when my mother left me in our van. I’d made it through that, I could make it through this.

He wouldn’t break me.

I let myself open to the pleasure. Relaxing my body by degrees and put the future in a box and shoved it at the back of my mind. Embrace the now.

Embrace the moment.

I arched off the table as he slipped two of those long fingers inside of me, stretching me and drinking from me. I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to see what he was doing.

If I didn’t let him in, I’d be okay.

“Ryan. Look at me.”

His deep, rough voice broke down the walls, obliterated the box. He started up at me as he sealed his mouth around me, his tongue lightly pulsing against my clit as he thrust into me with his fingers.

I needed more than that.

I needed him.

But my body detonated anyway. I reached down and raked my fingers through his thick hair to hold him there. I bucked up against him and his name was a burn on my tongue.

We stared each other down.

Tears raced down my temples and I bowed up as the orgasm razed me like a forest fire. My whole body was ash and destruction for that single moment.

Then he was gone.

A second later, I was being pulled up and found myself face to face with wild brown eyes that held determination and the strain of something else. Something I couldn’t—wouldn’t—name.

He tugged me down on his lap and the tip of his latex-covered cock scraped along my swollen slit. Damn, he felt delicious against me. He curled his fingers around the back of my neck and held me up completely straight as he slowly lowered me onto him.

My mouth opened on a soundless cry as he invaded me until there was nothing but our bodies making way for one another. Me, opened wide, and him swallowed whole in one greedy thrust.

I held onto his shoulders, my nails biting into flesh as I rocked against him. The friction and overwhelming fullness and my sensitivity from my first orgasm fuzzed my brain.

He nipped my bottom lip and I tasted myself. I leaned in for more and our tastes mingled until heat and cinnamon dominated as he sucked on my tongue.

His hips lifted to match every one of my fluid rocking motions. The chair wasn’t really built for this kind of action and groaned in reaction.

But we didn’t care. There was only now.

Only the chase of pleasure.

I wrapped my arm around his neck and threw my head back. His mouth found my breast and drew sharply on the one that was bared and then the other through the cotton and lace. And he never let up on me. Driving into me over and over until there was no way to tell where he started and I stopped.