“Fuck,” is all he says, and he turns as quickly as he can to leave, reaching behind him for the doorknob but failing to grab it. I’d laugh if I wasn’t petrified, knowing I’m about to cum. The pleasure swirls into a storm in my belly and threatens to ride through every limb, moving to the tips of my fingers in waves.
“I’m going to cum,” I cry out to the ceiling as Carter lifts me off him, shoving me down against his hard cock where it brushes against my ass, so he can see who the hell opened the door.
The door slams shut finally, and Carter sits up, making me fall back against the desk while his thick cock runs along the length of my pussy and I cum. The feel of his cock just barely brushing up against my entrance is what does it.
I cum violently, with my face and every inch of my body heated. I can hear Carter grabbing his pants and pulling them up his legs even as the pleasure rolls through me, paralyzing me and heating my body all at once.
Daniel Cross, brother to the most powerful man I’ve ever met, just witnessed me riding Carter’s face and taking my pleasure from him.
I shudder as my hand reaches up to cover my breasts. I can barely breathe as I hear Carter pull up his zipper.
I should feel shame of some sort. But I can’t bring myself to do it. I feel nothing but sated, breathless and fulfilled.
“I have to see what Daniel needs. Leave one heel on each side of the desk,” Carter commands me while grabbing each of my ankles and spreading my legs apart on his desk. “Wait for me.”
He grips my hips, pulling me closer to the edge of the desk as I nod. My skirt is rumpled around me and my hands instantly move to my pussy.
“If you want to touch yourself, do it.” His command comes in between his ragged breaths. “Cum as much as you want while I’m gone.”
I lie there, my back on his desk, my ass directed to the seat he rules in and my chest heaving as he leaves me.
I’m still catching my breath when I hear the door close.
Touch yourself, I hear his words again and moan just from the command. From the deep voice and cadence that can only come from a man’s voice filled with desire.
My fingers trail over my clit, but I can’t do it.
I’m so sensitive to even the slightest touch that I have to stop my movements before pushing myself over. I can’t do it. It’s so intense, I simply can’t bring myself to the edge.
I clench around nothing, I picture Carter between my legs, on top of me, smothering me with his weight as he pounds into me and I have to scissor my legs. My hands fly to my hair, pushing it from my face and trying to get a grip.
When I open my eyes, I stare at the blank ceiling, accompanied only by my heavy breathing and the ticking of the clock.
It doesn’t stop ticking, but with each stroke, my needs diminish, and my sanity comes back to me.
I lie there for what feels like hours, and when I check the clock, it’s accurate. Over an hour has passed, my back is stiff and the desire I had is all but gone, subdued by concern, replaced with a feeling of rejection. As I sit up, everything hurts. My back, especially. I stare at the door, willing Carter to come to get me. But he doesn’t come back.
Not this hour and not the next.
Any bit of power I felt, fades to nothing, which is exactly what I feel like when I slink out of the room, covering myself with the torn shirt.
I haven’t stopped staring at the clock in the bedroom and wondering if I should go back to the office. I can’t possibly lie there waiting for him for hours. I’m almost certain he didn’t expect that when he left me.
But every minute that passes warns me to go back. To stop defying Carter and show him that I can be what he wants, and maybe that would convince him to do what I want. To spare my family.
The pride and thrill are long gone and in their place only uncertainty.
All I’m doing is worrying as I restlessly wait in Carter’s bed.
The moment I hear the click of the door opening, I sit up straight in bed, getting on my knees, clutching the sheets to my chest.
Carter walks in slowly, his gaze on the floor. He looks exhausted and beat down like I’ve never seen him. I can’t get a word out, shocked by the sight of him in this state, but the excuses I’ve drummed up and rehearsed in the last few hours don’t matter anyway.