When he finished his retreat, he started his next advance. Still gentle, but this time, quicker. The stretch of him sliding into me was less uncomfortable.
“Okay?” he asked, hushed.
“Yeah,” I whispered back.
Tension had made his shoulders tight, but they relaxed a degree on my answer. The fullness of him moving inside me remained, but as he eased his hips into me, the ache dulled. It faded enough until it was merely noticeable.
As I became more pliable beneath him, Royce hesitantly loosened the restraint he’d put on himself. His movements became thrusts. They turned harder and went deeper.
The arm he’d been supporting himself with moved. His hand cupped my shoulder and slid up the curve of my neck, drawing goosebumps. I stretched as best I could into his touch, even as he continued to carve a path. His palm cradled the side of my face, tilting my head back and his thumb swept over my lips, where I pulled in ragged breaths.
As his thrusts increased, the atmosphere in the room rapidly degraded from composed and collected to frenzied and desperate.
He bent down, looming over me so his lips hovered just over my uplifted chin, teasing a kiss with his hot breath. His restless hand kept moving. He dragged it down until it rested on my throat, holding me back from receiving the kiss I wanted.
Maybe it wasn’t allowed.
Or perhaps he didn’t want anyone else to witness it.
Our choked breaths and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. He fucked me hard enough the table creaked and groaned in protest.
“You feel so . . . fucking . . . good.”
Royce’s comment set my face on fire and satisfaction clenched deep inside me. I moaned, long and loud, and something inside him seemed to break. He snapped upright, his palm sliding to the center of my chest, his fingers splayed between my breasts.
He’d told me he would make it quick, and I sensed that was now his goal. This version of him was raw and basic. He became a man fucking for his pleasure, a slave to satisfying his own instinctive, primal urge.
His furious tempo gave me a hint of what was in store for me later, and I liked it. I wasn’t going to follow him over the edge, but this? Watching and listening to him? It was deeply satisfying.
I’d never seen him come before, and he did not disappoint.
As his eyes slammed shut and his face contorted with pleasure, his movements went jerky and erratic. A great, satisfied groan burst from him. His fingers on my chest curled in, raking across my skin. And inside my body, there were rhythmic pulses, filling me with heat.
He gasped for air and stilled, letting the orgasm pass on long, labored breaths.
The board members’ hands released me and drew away, leaving only Royce touching me. His palm was on my chest and there was still the connection of our bodies, and I sighed in contentment, happy for it to be just us.
He lingered longer than he probably should have because Macalister strolled to the chair and plucked the coat off of it. The heat of Royce was gone as he retreated and hurried to pull up his pants. He took the offered coat from his father, opened it, and laid it over my body. He covered me, and his action was almost tender.
The silk lining felt decadent against my sensitized skin.
“Congratulations.” It wasn’t clear for whom Macalister meant it. He adjusted the way his tuxedo sat on his shoulders, tugging at the cuffs of his sleeves. “We’ll leave you two to get sorted. Don’t keep your guests waiting too long. I’m sure most have already arrived, and I’d like to make our entrance soon.”
Dismissed, the board shuffled toward the door, some of them adjusting their dicks in their pants as they filed past the table. Macalister was the last to go, waiting for something.
It was privacy. He cast a harsh look at his son. “Jesus, Royce.” His tone was scathing. “Next time try to last longer than a minute. She’s supposed to enjoy it, but not if you don’t give her a chance.”
A muscle flexed along Royce’s jaw and he bit the word out. “Noted.”
Macalister released a frustrated sigh, and although I kept my focus squarely on Royce, I felt his father’s gaze stroke over me before he turned and went.
The click of the door closing flipped the switch on Royce, activating the other side of him. He launched over me, his hands cradling my head. “Are you all right?”
I opened my mouth, but the words lodged in my throat. His semen was dripping out of me between my legs, and the sensation was weird.
“Marist.” Worry turned his eyes a stormy blue. “Fuck, please say something.”
My voice was almost silent. “I don’t want to live here.”