“Am I hurting you?”
She shook her head.
“Say it.”
“You’re not hurting me.”
He laced an arm around her waist and up until his hand splayed on her neck. Totally immobilized, all she could do was submit to whatever he had planned. With long, strong fingers, he lifted her shell, pulled down her cups, and freed her breasts. Combined with her raised skirt, her ass exposed, she felt gloriously slutty.
“Now, what do you need?”
“More. Your hands, your tongue. Please, more.”
“Yes. Tell me everything.” Everything. She wished…but wishes were for good girls. His fingers slipped inside her panties and finally touched her where she needed so badly.
“Harder,” she urged. “Stroke harder.”
He did, the rough callus of his forefinger sawing through her folds, whispering against her clit.
“Like that?”
“Yes! Oh God, yes. Don’t stop.”
He chuckled, a sexy-evil sound, then bit down on her earlobe. He plunged two fingers inside her, then slowly, oh so slowly dragged them against her clit. She shattered, shards of her mind breaking off as she hurtled over. He held her close, panting against her neck as if he had experienced that peak with her.
“Okay, Emma?” he asked softly, the rusty tenderness in his voice creating an ache in her chest.
A brief nod was all she could manage. Anything else might have been too revealing, because she wasn’t okay. Far from it. She was in the process of being broken down on a cellular level by this man.
She had no time to dwell on that before her panties were dragged roughly down her thighs and left to drop to her ankles.
“Step out of them,” he demanded.
She did.
“Now turn around.”
Dazed at her own willingness to submit to his commands, she obeyed, and let him guide her back to sit on the antique mahogany desk. Her bare ass felt cool against the grain.
Large palms splayed her thighs wide for his sensual examination. Her skirt was bunched up around her waist; one heel had fallen off. Her wrists were still bound by his belt. Enthralled by his dominance, she could only watch as he stared at her in hungry assessment.
He’d never exhibited anything close to this level of bossiness when he asked for coffee.
His thumbs moved over the outer lips of her sex and spread her open, exposing her to his dark gaze. “So rosy and wet, Ms. Strickland.” He rubbed a thumb through her folds, spreading the moisture around, but always avoided direct contact with her clit. She was grateful, because she wasn’t sure she could handle that again so soon.
“What should I do next?” He licked his wicked lips, like a preview of what he wanted to do to her throbbing flesh.
“Please, Br—Mr. Kane.”
“Please what?”
“Taste me.”
The moment stretched, held aloft on the charged quiet between them, and then he gave that sadistic smile. “No.”
…
No.
Surely he was mad to deny her but in this second, he knew the anticipation would be its own reward.
Her eyes widened, and he kept his own locked on hers as he sat back in his chair and unzipped his pants. Impossibly, her pupils enlarged to the diameter of hubcaps, though it was likely a trick of the morning light streaming through the window. Really, those blue eyes darkened, a little in fury, more in desire.
She had the common sense not to question him. He rewarded her by freeing his cock and giving one long, obscene stroke along its length. The swollen head was already leaking precome and he used the moisture to ease the pumping motion of his hand.
She squirmed. Sat up to get a better view, but she still kept her thighs spread so he could watch all that glorious pink flesh as it glistened.
For him.
With her hands still bound behind her back, her breasts jutted over the bra cups he’d roughly torn down her body moments before. That dishevelment, and knowing he’d caused it, intensified the sensations in his body.
She licked her lips, her eyes riveted to his stroke. She wanted to close her thighs, squeeze them to get relief. He just knew she did, but she was also enjoying this role. The subservient assistant, whose pleasure was in the boss’s hands. He wanted them both to enjoy it. He needed her to enjoy it.
“Come here,” he said.
She slid off the desk and wobbled over. This meek act of hers turned him on royally.
“Straddle me.”
While she did, he held her up with his hands on her ass, and slid down in the chair so that her sex was level with his mouth. Slowly, he blew on her wet, sensitive heat. She bucked.
“Not yet, baby,” he murmured as he untied the belt from her wrists and dropped it to the floor. The clang of the buckle shot further heated awareness to his aching dick. Finally, he removed his glasses and reached forward to put them on the desk.
“Now. Fuck my face.”
Her moan reverberated around the room, bouncing off the leather tomes, the globe, the floor-to-ceiling window. But still she didn’t move.
He squeezed her ass to remind her of what he’d just asked. Demanded.
“I’m waiting.”
Placing her hands on the back of the chair, she slowly rocked her hips, tentatively at first, as though concerned about her strength. Like her pussy could injure him somehow. As her wet heat brushed against his lips and his chest filled with the scent of her, he realized that maybe there was something in that. Sex with this woman, getting deeper with this woman, could be very damaging.
His tongue flicked out of its own accord. “Come on, baby. Grind that hot little pussy all over my mouth.”
He opened wider to taste all that sweetness. Her movements turned urgent, jerky, demanding of her pleasure as he worked her lips with his tongue. A light tease here, a hard suck there, until she was taking what was her right.
“Brody, that’s—damn it—I can’t…” Her thighs were shaking, the pleasure they were giving each other too much for her to bear. He took control, holding her in place for the tongue-fuck to end all tongue-fucks, until finally she shuddered her release.
He opened the drawer of his desk where Flynn’s gifts usually ended up and pulled out a condom. Ribbed, XL, strawberry flavored. He rolled it over his stiff cock and with one swift move, pulled her down on him where she belonged to the tune of her heartfelt groan.
Need for her had its claws in him. Her sheath tightened and grabbed hold as she moved up and down slowly, luxuriously, finding her pleasure with every smooth stroke. Her beautiful tits teased, and he latched on to one tight bud. Sucked and sipped at all that sweetness. He fed on the hot silk of her perfect skin, all while telling his balls to behave.
With each pump of his hips, he took her to the crystalline edge of pleasure, flirted with it, then pulled back. Her velvet muscles squeezed, compelling him to lose the race, but he wouldn’t give in. His control was absolute.
Or, so he thought.
She stopped moving, stopped squeezing, just plain stopped time. The stillness wrapped in her heat was a revelation, the gift of her even more so. Those stunning blue eyes sealed his in their tractor beam.
“Just—just let go, Brody. Don’t fight me on this.”
He wasn’t fighting, he was fucking, but something in her eyes relaxed every muscle in his body except the only one that mattered. The one created to give her pleasure.
“Emma.”
Using her first name dropped him out of the boss-assistant fantasy, but he didn’t care. With her, he was stripped of those labels, peeled back to the essence. Just himself.
And she was Emma. His Emma.
Her body started to shake as if the mere thought of surrender—his, hers, who the hell knew?—had triggered her release. And that set off his own, a domino explosion that ripped through his cock and emptied inside her. On and on, a series of jerky thrusts until he had nothing left to give. She had taken it all.
They remained connected to each other, okay with being quiet.
“I’ll get right on those reports now, shall I, Mr. Kane?” she whispered against his lips.
He laughed, enjoying that immensely. Enjoying her, and the person he was becoming with her.
Chapter Fifteen
Brody knew he shouldn’t have come into the office. But he’d needed to pick up the latest contracts sitting on his desk, and a visit late on a Thursday night seemed like a safe enough bet. He just hadn’t reckoned on Flynn.
What he saw on his friend’s face as he stood at the door pinned him back. The guy looked like the apocalypse had landed on his head then backed up and rolled over to make sure he was decimated.
“You look like shit.”
“Becca dumped me.”
Hell, no. “You mean you had a fight?”
“Nope, I mean she dumped my sorry ass four months before I was supposed to scoot it down the freakin’ aisle.”
Given his own history, Brody had to ask, though it pained him to do it. “Is there someone else?”
Flynn came in and collapsed in a sprawl on the sofa. “Not me, and she didn’t say. Just that I’m not serious enough for the life she wants to live. Something about not being a big-picture guy. What the fuck does that mean?”
Brody had no idea. He’d given up trying to figure out what women wanted years ago. These days, he had better luck with cats. Flynn did have a man-ho past that might give any woman pause, but since meeting Becca, a doctor finishing up her residency in Houston, he’d settled down.
“This can’t be it, Flynn. Give her time to think about it.”