She tried to focus through the haze and he looked to the door pointedly—Christ, there was no way she could do this quietly.
‘You need me to help,’ he said softly.
How? She frowned.
He raised one hand, his fingers brushing over her lips, her plump and swollen flesh moving helplessly beneath his touch and relishing every teasing bit of it.
‘Use me,’ he said. ‘I’ll make you forget Charles ever existed.’
Forget fucking Charles, God, yes!
An exciting tremor rippled through her as she nodded against the wall and manoeuvred her head to nip into his palm, getting him where she wanted him. And then his head dropped, his mouth sucking in one desperate peak before releasing it from his teeth, and she cried into his hand, her nails scraping into the wall as she clawed at it.
‘So responsive,’ he muttered against her, his teeth grazing her swollen flesh as he spoke. ‘So addictive.’
His free hand joined in the attentions, his touch wild with his own mounting need.
‘More,’ she pleaded softly.
He gave a muffled growl in response, dropping to his knees, his tongue gliding over her navel as he dropped both hands to her trouser fastening. He popped it undone, the zipper following suit, the fabric dropping to the floor, cold air hot on its tail, and then came his hands brushing up her bare legs, their palms hot, fingers caressing. He locked his teeth around the small bow at
the centre of her thong’s waistband, plucking at it, the elastic stinging her skin as her eyes dropped to his.
‘Fuck...’ she whimpered.
He was too hot, too seductive; her head was dizzy on it, intoxicated even.
He slid his fingers beneath the waistband and she bit her lip in anticipation, watching as he pulled it down, pushing it to join her trousers at her ankles. She was about to step out of them all when his head dropped, his tongue sweeping inside her seam and making her cry out. She clamped her jaw shut, her knees buckling, and he gave a deep chuckle.
‘Seems you can’t keep quiet.’
She looked down at him, his head cocked back, his chin resting teasingly above her strip of hair and her need took over, driving out the order, ‘Rather than criticise me, put your mouth to better use.’
His eyes flashed and she rammed her fingers through his hair drawing him against her, absorbing his appreciative growl in the cluster of chaos between her legs. She was losing it in every way possible, her knees turning to jelly as she opened herself up to him, and rode his tongue, his teeth, every bit of friction he could give her.
She grabbed at his shirt, felt his muscles rippling wildly as he worked her. She reached for his hand, tugging it back to where she needed it, across her mouth. He pressed her head back into the wall with it, his hold tight, her breaths rasping over his fingers as she struggled to take in enough air to fuel the crazy spiralling tension.
She clawed at the wall again, her legs buckling further, and he used his shoulders to hold her steady and open, hungrily devouring her, sucking up her wetness, flicking wildly over her clit and layering it up with the bite of his teeth.
The tension grew with punishing force and just as the handle to her office door shifted, she exploded, her entire body convulsing with an orgasm like no other. She bucked over him, her head falling forward, her muscles rippling wildly, and he held her to him, his head moving to press against her belly as he kept her upright through the waves.
In her post-orgasm daze, she could hear the voices on the other side... ‘If it’s locked leave it’... ‘Thought I heard something though’... ‘Not for us to worry about.’
The footsteps retreated, and she felt shyness creeping in.
What the hell have you just let happen? In your office, of all places?
And then he leant back on his haunches and met her eye, pinning her with the unrestrained heat of his need, and she knew exactly what she’d let happen and why, because, even in her sated state, her body was already on the up, her pulse kick-starting over its impulsive desire to please him. To strip him as bare as she and enjoy every last bit.
* * *
For a split second he sensed that same vulnerability, that same inkling that she wasn’t the feisty, controlled diva her exterior made her out to be. And then it was gone, her fingers pushing him back so that he had to splay his palms out, pressing them into the floor to stop himself back-planting completely.
‘My turn,’ she said, slipping one heeled foot out of her pooled clothing and then the other.
Leaving her shoes on, she stalked towards him. All statuesque, confident and sexy as fuck. His blood rang in his ears, surging to the head of his dick.
‘Easy, tiger,’ he warned, not that it was aimed at her, but to his raging erection that was fit to explode any second.