Thrill Me (One Night with Sole Regret 9)

“My office isn’t far.”

He had seen that fantasy on her list, but hadn’t expected they’d tackle that one today.

“Do you want to fuck me on my desk, Owen?”

He pressed her hand against his stiff cock. “He’s answering for me at the moment.”

She rubbed him just enough to make his breath catch. “I think he’s saying yes.”

He always said yes.

Owen’s hand moved between Caitlyn’s legs. Desire slammed into his gut as the heat coming off of her pussy registered. “Drive,” he growled.

The short trip to the deserted office building was a blur. She didn’t stop him when he rubbed her mound through her shorts or her tit through her shirt as she drove. She merely moaned encouragement when he kissed her neck and pinched one hard nipple. By the time they stumbled out of the car and she used her key to open the front door of the building, he was about to bust the zipper out of his pants.

“Is there anyone here?” He followed her into an attractively decorated reception area, lit only by natural light pouring in through a bank of high windows.

“It’s a Sunday,” she reminded him, “so no.”

“I think you mean it’s Sinday.” He pushed her up against the back of the door and unfastened her shorts. “I’m going to assume this is your office, because I can’t wait another second.”

Her shorts dropped to her ankles, and she kicked them aside. He fumbled with her panties while she freed his cock, and then he found her center, sinking deep into her hot, slick flesh. She kissed him desperately, hands pressing into his face, his shoulders, stretching to hold his ass as he fucked her so hard her body shifted up and down the back of the door.

“Is that your desk?” he asked, lifting her by the ass and turning her to settle on a meticulously kept desk.

She reclined back and swept her arms over the surface, sending a stapler, pen cup, and several outboxes tumbling to the floor.

“Belongs to my partner’s receptionist,” she said breathlessly. “I overheard her in the breakroom talking about me. She said my husband cheated on me because I was a dried-up prude.”

He snorted. “No clue where she got that idea.”

She sent a framed picture of the receptionist’s man tumbling to the floor, shattering the glass on impact.

“Make me come on her desk,” Caitlyn said, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him against her. Her ankles dug into his thighs as he pounded her to her peak. Her cries of release echoed through the cavernous room. He wasn’t finished with her yet, though. They still hadn’t fucked on her desk, and that was why they’d gone there in the first place.

“Where’s your office?” he asked when her body went slack and she lay sprawled across the surface of the receptionist’s desk trying to catch her breath.

“Third floor.”

He probably could have carried her down the hall, but not up two flights of stairs.

“The elevator is down that way.” She tilted her head toward a corridor.

“Elevator?” He grinned and scooped her off the desk. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as he carried her toward the stainless steel doors obscured by shadows in the dark hallway. “Why didn’t you say there was an elevator here?”

“Sorry. Didn’t know elevators were your thing.”

“Everything is my thing,” he assured her.

She kissed him desperately, her fingers toying with his hair as he slapped at the button to open the elevator door. She pulled away long enough to say, “I know I just came, but I can’t stand you not being inside me. Hurry.” She crushed her mouth to his again.

The elevator dinged and the door slid open. His muscles were starting to fatigue, so he set her on her feet. Their gazes locked and then were torn apart momentarily as she removed his shirt and tossed it onto the floor. She removed her own shirt next and then her bra to stand naked before him. Her tits were too gorgeous not to catch his attention. He sank to his knees at her feet, cupping the perfect, soft globes in his hands and drawing one nipple into his mouth.

“Fuck, you’re hot, Caitlyn,” he murmured as he moved his mouth to her other breast.

She laughed and buried her fingers in his hair, holding him to her. “No one has ever accused me of that.”

“They don’t see you the way I see you.”

“Naked in an elevator?” she said. “Probably not.”

She slapped a button, and the elevator car began to rise. At the same time, she sank down, directing his straining cock into the warmth between her thighs. He groaned, pulling her against him as she rose and sank over him, loving the feel of her breasts caressing his chest almost as much as the sweet friction of her pussy around him. Her head dropped back, long silky hair tickling the arm he held securely around her back. Cries of passion punctuated her every motion, her vocalizations growing louder and faster as she took what she wanted from him and gave him so much in return. He kissed her neck, using his tongue to collect the salty moisture that rose to the surface of her skin. When the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, she reached over and slapped a button and they began their descent. The unsettling feeling of his body dropping while he thrust up into her made him dizzy. Or maybe it was being with her that had him out of his head.

“We’re not getting off this elevator until you come,” he murmured against her throat.

“Almost there,” she said between broken gasps. “I do love your pierced cock.”

Based on the way she was grinding against him as if trying to keep it inside her forever, he’d figured as much.

She shuddered, her pussy tightening around him as she cried out. Owen squeezed his eyes shut and recited the alphabet backward in his head—an attempt to calm himself so he didn’t follow her over the edge. He still had to fuck her on her desk.

The elevator dinged again, and the doors slid open. He held her against him, trying to still the trembling of her body and the spasms tugging at his cock.

“Don’t move for a second,” he pleaded, sucking air into his lungs and forcing the pressure building inside his pelvis not to burst.

The elevator door slid shut, but the car didn’t move as he sat there collecting his wits—what was left of them.

“Slowly now,” he said as he took her by the hips and lifted her from his lap. When his cock fell free of her soft haven, he sucked an agonized breath through his teeth.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Caitlyn said, reaching for his overly engorged and very pissed-off cock.

“Don’t touch it.” He grabbed her hand.

“Let me help. I’ll suck—”

“Ah God, don’t put that image in my head. I’ll never last. Where’s your desk?”

“You held back for me?”

He had no idea why her eyes were suddenly brimming with tears. Of course he’d held back for her. He couldn’t remember ever needing to come as badly as he did at that moment.

Caitlyn climbed to her feet and opened the elevator door. She reached for his hand and tugged him to standing, then raced naked down the hall to an open door at its very end. Seeing her desk—all covered in journals and stacks of papers and manila folders—unlocked something primal in him. There was no tenderness or concern in the way he bent her over the desk, his hand pressing the side of her head against the solid surface, and rammed his aching cock into her. She didn’t seem to mind his harsh treatment. In fact, she shifted into his rigorous thrusts, meeting him stroke for stroke.

“Fuck me, Owen,” she said. “Harder. Fuck me.”

He slapped her flank, and her pussy tightened around him. He liked it so much he smacked the same spot again.

“Oh God,” she said, her hand sliding between her legs to touch the place where their bodies were coming together. That tiny bit of added stimulation sent him flying.