His Terms

“Wait,” she said against his lips, but instead of pushing him away she pulled him closer. “We should stop. This isn’t right.”

Yeah, they should, but she was addictive, he was intoxicated with her, and pulling away now seemed wrong on every level. He curled his fingers into her scalp, loved the little sound that came from her, and moved them so she was pressed against the wall. There he pressed his dick against her belly, loved the softness that he was greeted with, and knew that if she didn’t sign that fucking contract he still wouldn’t be able to stay away from her.

He ground himself into her like some kind of damn teenager not able to control himself. Kissing her like he was a dying man and she was his last meal, he devoured her, took everything she was willing to give, and knew it wouldn’t be enough. Maybe a small part of him wanted her because she was so resistant to him, because she denied him the stroking of his ego that he got from everyone else? Maybe when he had her—and he would—he’d be sated and get this need out of him?

Either way unless he fucked her he’d be itchy with the desire to take her any way he wanted. And until she willingly gave herself to him he wouldn’t be able to rid himself of this need for her. This one woman could very well turn his controlled fucking world upside down.

The sound of the elevator dinging an arrival had her pushing at his chest with her hands. He looked down at her, saw that her lips were red, swollen, and glossy from their kiss, from his kiss, and his cock jerked forward. He wanted to see another part of her looking the same, another part that was probably wet for him right now.

“That’s probably your first appointment of the day,” she said breathlessly.

Rian should have let her walk away, but instead he leaned into her again, placed his hand on her hip, and moved it down. He stared right in her eyes, watched as her pupils dilated from her lust for him, and when he stopped at the hem of her skirt he swore she stopped breathing altogether. She was wearing a dress, and Rian was glad for the fact that he had easy access to any part of her he wanted.

He had fucked a lot of women, and although he wasn’t proud to say that to himself, or to know that he could very well be considered a whore by most, right now wasn’t just about fucking Sorcha. It was about her giving him this of her own free will, and because she wanted it, too.

“They can wait,” he said in a low voice only she could hear. He looked into her eyes as he slipped his hand under her dress, moved it higher and higher until he reached the junction between her thighs, and then stilled. “Tell me to touch your pussy.” He didn’t waver from his determination to have Sorcha the one begging him. Again, he knew she should have signed that fucking contract first, because she could very well yell sexual harassment and assault over what he was doing to her. But fuck it all.

There was clear hesitance in her expression, and in the way she held herself so taut and unsure. Oh, he knew she was soaking between her thighs, could practically feel the heat scorch his hand. The pads of his fingers were right up against the tiny, lacy edge of her panties, and it took a lot of damn willpower not to just shove the fabric aside and thrust his fingers into her. A groan left him at that thought. He wouldn’t ask her again, but he would hold his stance, because he knew she wanted this, too. She was stubborn, and he fucking loved that about her.

“Touch me.” She said it so softly that he wasn’t even sure if she had said the words at all. But when she closed her eyes, fluttered them for a second even, he knew she was relinquishing herself in this one moment.

Rian didn’t waste another second. He pushed the material of her panties aside, that soft, delicate fabric that had his balls drawing up tight and the promise of an orgasm within his reach. When he finally touched her pussy, all slick, smooth, hot and wet flesh, he couldn’t stop himself from slamming his free hand on the wall beside her head. He leaned down to bury his face in the crook of her neck.

He inhaled deeply, loved that light floral scent of the perfume she wore, and ran his tongue up the length of her throat. He worked his fingers on her pussy lips, moaned at the smoothness of her flesh, and started grinding himself against her. The position was awkward given his hand in the way, but he was getting enough pressure and friction that it was doing the job.