“Please fuck me, Luke?” She looked back at him over her shoulder and bit her lip.

Aw hell. She was irresistible, and she damn well knew it.

By the time he’d lined himself up with her pussy, she was whimpering impatiently. He paused just as the tip of his cock came into contact with her slick heat.

“I thought you said you were too busy for this,” he reminded her. “You’re right. Maybe I should go.” He backed up and tucked his cock back into his jeans, then zipped them.

“What? No!” She whirled on him, tottering on her heels and grabbing onto the table to steady herself. “I was wrong.”

He glanced at the clock. “It’s been a half hour. We have what—fifteen minutes before you need to clean up and compose yourself? That’s not

enough time. We’ll stop now and finish this another time.”

“But . . .” Her face fell in disappointment. She looked like she might even cry. “But I need you.”

“Later, sweetheart.” He crouched down and picked up her skirt. His mouth passed so close to her naked pussy, he had to seriously fight the urge to push her up on the table and taste her. When he handed the skirt to her, she took it, but her bottom lip was trembling. He rubbed his thumb across her sexy mouth. “You can have some cock later.”

“When?” she asked, her tone almost hysterical.

“Later.”

“After the meeting?”

“No,” he said regretfully. “I have a meeting with Lurch later.”

“Tonight?” Her voice had risen, and she tangled her hand in the hem of his T-shirt, as though she could keep him from leaving. With her hair mussed, blouse hanging open, bra pushed up, and then bare from there down to her red heels, she was a wet fucking dream.

“No, I’m working tonight.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” she asked faintly. “But . . .” She groaned and grabbed his hand, trying to coax him into touching her, but he didn’t allow it. “But Luke, I can’t wait until tomorrow.”

Standing on her toes, she brushed her tortured nipples against his shirt, then shuddered. There’d been a time where she never would have done such a thing, but she was getting more brazen in telling him what she needed. It didn’t mean she’d necessarily get it, but he loved that she trusted him enough to ask with her body and with her pretty mouth.

“Sure you can.”

“No, please.” She dropped to her knees, and for a moment he thought she’d go for his zipper again, but she only knelt submissively and looked up at him with sweet puppy-dog eyes. “Please, Luke,” she begged, taking his hand and kissing his palm.

He drew a shaking breath. No woman had ever gone to her knees for him without an order. His dominance tended to be playful and relatively undemanding, but this? Ophelia going submissively to her knees without prompting, and then begging him for sex, both turned him on and blew his mind. It gave him an even bigger rush than her submitting to commands did. He could see this feeling becoming seriously addictive.

At his feet, Ophelia seemed so tiny and fragile. Such a sweet little piece of fluff, and yet so intelligent and surprisingly tough. She was so, so perfect.

He twined fingers in her hair and gave it a tug, which made her sigh with pleasure—as though any attention he deigned to give her was appreciated.

Fuck. By the time he left her, he was going to have to chill out before his meeting. How did hard-core, full-time dominants handle this constant rush of testosterone? He felt like he could bench press a Hummer.

He should refuse and make her wait, but he just couldn’t. Her gaze was full of guileless trust and adoration, and it made him want to protect more than punish. She made him want to spoil her with attention and give her what she needed. What he needed from her she gave without him having to ask. The whole D/s dynamic they were developing was very . . . satisfying to him. He was starting to fantasize about buying her a pretty collar, but would that freak her out?

When he reached down and tugged the elastics off her nipples, she moaned as if so deeply in need the pain didn’t register as unpleasant. He couldn’t walk away from her when she was like this.

“Fine.” He sighed like she was asking a lot of him. “Face down on the table and show me how soaked your little pussy is. There’s no more time for foreplay, so if you’re not ready for me this is going to be uncomfortable.”

She was in position, belly down on the table before he was finished speaking—her ass angled upward and her legs spread wide. It was easy to see she was very, very ready.

Without preamble, he opened his jeans and thrust his cock into her with one savage movement. She cried out in pleasure, and he clapped his hand over her mouth, plunging into her hard and rough. From behind his hand, her muffled screams grew louder, and he tugged her panties from her pocket and stuffed them into her mouth, then covered it with his hand again.

He glanced at the clock. Fuck. Ten minutes until her next meeting. He hammered into her, then slid his hand down the silky skin of her belly to her hot pussy. Her clit was rock hard and easy to find, and he slapped it. From her piercing squeal, he got the impression she approved. One slap. Another.

She hiccupped, gagged, then screamed into his hand, writhing beneath him, shoving back at him with her sexy ass, her body rhythmically gripping his cock, making his eyes shut and roll behind his lids. The ecstasy she gave him was almost pain, his balls roiling, heavy and aching, desperate for release.

Tags: Sparrow Beckett Masters of Adrenaline Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net