Chapter 16
Liam
“Ithought I’d make you come in your pants.” She smiles, her gaze hooded.
Little minx.
I step closer and grip her chin between my thumb and index finger. “Just remember. You make me lose control as well.”
Fusing my lips over hers, I stop her retort, but also finally take the mouth that has been teasing me for weeks now.
She whimpers into the kiss, grabbing my lapels, pulling me closer. Her taste explodes on my tongue—all the sweetness of the culinary foreplay in the dining room, along with something that is uniquely Roxy.
I can’t get enough. Kissing this woman feels like a basic need. Like I don’t need to eat or sleep anymore, but kissing her is life-preserving. I have never felt like this.
I’m not sure whether I like it.
She wraps her legs around my waist, her arms gripping my hair as we duel with our tongues. Desperate. Crazed. Untethered.
As she pointed out, this is the worst idea ever. But it might be the best one, and I’m willing to risk it at this point.
I can deal with my demons, have my revenge, and have this woman as well. At least for now.
It’s not like she won’t raise her walls the minute we are out of here. But for now, we’re still here.
I deepen the kiss, wanting to take with my mouth all she is willing to give. And more.
All her insecurities she masks so well with snarky comments.
All her self-doubt she dresses in confident retorts.
All her fight that she channels the wrong way, finding enemies in all men because of her family.
And she kisses me back with the same fervor.
I groan and reluctantly leave her lips, grazing her cheek, her neck, her clavicle. Kissing, biting, sucking.
She sinks her teeth into my shoulder, stifling the sounds of her pleasure. Fuck, I wish we were in my bed. Or her bed. Somewhere where she could scream and moan freely.
With my teeth, I pull at her corset. The top clasp comes undone, finally freeing her tits from that stupid casing. They are small and perky.
“Fucking perfect,” I mumble.
I close my lips around one nipple while cupping the other breast, my thumb grazing the hard tip.
She curls her slim fingers around my cock, gripping harder than I would expect. But that’s the thing about Little Thunder: she’s much stronger than people believe. Inside and out.
“You want my cock, Little Thunder?” I bite her gently, and she bucks her hips. I chuckle. “I take that as a yes.”
“Maybe you need to talk less—”
I put a finger over her lips. “My show, my pace.”
She glares at me. As if by now she didn’t know that her venom is my aphrodisiac.
Producing a condom from my pocket, I hand it to her. With a heated smile, she closes her teeth around the wrapper’s corner and rips it open, spitting the piece of plastic.
I get harder, if that’s even possible. She rolls the condom on, and I curl my fingers over hers, guiding my cock to her wet entrance. I swipe it up and down her wet heat.
“Tell me you haven’t enjoyed every painful minute of this from that first taste of mango cheesecake? Lie to me, Little Thunder, if you must, but the fact remains… you surrender, and I reward you.”
Her breath hitches. That tiny sound almost makes me come again. Instead of a rebuttal, she jerks her hips forward.
“You promise to be quiet?” I still deny her.
“You promise to finally give me what I want?”
“I would never deprive you, Little Thunder. You’re Roxy fucking Moretti, and you deserve my cock.”
Her eyes widen, pupils darken, and a swallow works her throat. “I thought we were pretending to be someone else.” She licks her lips, and I chuckle.
God, she’s breathtaking. This undone. This needy. This reckless.
With a side of a little hatred. Of me for making her lose control. Of herself for surrendering.
It’s a heady visual.
I scoop her thighs and jerk her closer, positioning my tip at her entrance.
I thrust forward. She gasps. Fuck. She’s tight. Even after her orgasm, nicely wet for me, my cock meets resistance.
She grips my shoulders, her eyes down where we’re connected, holding her breath.
“Baby, you need to relax for me. Let go.” I graze the shell of her ear with my lips. “Breathe for me.”
She flexes her legs, digging her heels into my ass. The move lifts her pelvis, and she slides farther.
“Fuck,” I groan, only barely hanging onto my control. “You feel so good. This tight cunt is perfect.” I snake my finger between us, rubbing her clit, and she finally yields.
Sliding fully in, I pause, letting her adjust around me. Her chest heaves, her legs quiver around my waist, but she is Roxy fucking Moretti because she lifts her gaze and says, “Where is my fucking reward, Liam?”
“That’s my girl.” I chuckle, and start moving.
It doesn’t take long, and my control vanishes. We’re just bodies seeking release.
At one point I have to cover Roxy’s mouth, because her moans are the sound of music to me, but would be an alarm bell just feet away in the dining room.
I pound into her with all the pent-up energy I have accumulated over the past few weeks. It’s like redemption and punishment. Like I’m trying to catch up for lost time, but it can never be enough.
It’s not enough, and too much.
I have never felt so unfettered with anyone.
Roxy meets my every thrust, hanging onto me for dear life as I set a punishing tempo, chasing what we both need so much.
“Liam,” she breathes against my palm, her walls closing around my cock.
“That’s my girl, squeeze me hard. Milk me, baby.”
Every muscle in her body tightens as she comes undone. With a few more thrusts, I follow, my orgasm blinding me.
Revenge.
Revenge.
Revenge.
It has been my driving force for a decade. I have spent a lot of time and effort setting fires inside my father’s business.
Minor acts of sabotage he could never trace back to me. Not much damage, but enough to cause trouble for him—financially, legally, morally.
He lost money because of me. He lost exceptional employees thanks to my interference. He got sued due to my indirect influence.
Accumulated, it was enough of a headache for him. But none of it was enough to bring Sterling Stone down.
I came here to get closer to a woman who can help me deliver the final blow. Or that’s what I keep telling myself.
Seated beside me, with her chair angled toward the screen in front of us, Roxy crosses her fishnet-clad legs, and her skirt slides up.
While her legs are dressed for seduction, she has buttoned her granny cardigan up to her neck.
I want to rip it open and see what she has underneath.
I want to discover what color her panties are today.
I need to feel her body pressed against mine.
What I should be doing instead is listening to Declan’s presentation on the large screen.
Corm interrupts with a question, and Roxy pulls a pen from her dreadlock bun and makes a note.
While I got closer to her, I’m nowhere close to finding out what her father holds over my father’s head.
And on most days, I don’t even remember that that’s what I’m looking for.
She hasn’t looked at me once since we entered the boardroom. She is teasing me with her legs, crossing and uncrossing.
With her tongue, wetting her lips. Tilting her head to expose the curve of her neck where her makeup barely hides my love bite.
It’s been seven days since the coatroom. It was the worst idea ever. One that we’ve been repeating daily. Sometimes twice.
I got closer to Roxy just fine. I have a drawer of her underwear to prove it. Instead of getting closer to her family, I’m enjoying an ill-advised secret office affair.
“Liam?” Cal says, and his tone suggests he’s repeating himself.
I turn my head to him, meeting his gaze. I say nothing. He might treat me like I were an intern, but that doesn’t mean I play along.
He raises his eyebrows. I don’t move mine, but I lean back, relaxing in my chair.
“This silent duel is boring.” Corm sighs. “I’ll talk to you later.” He nods to his brother and disconnects the video call. “Liam, get the numbers to Declan by the end of the day. Roxy, I want the minutes and a copy of the presentation in my inbox in an hour.”
He stands up and walks away.
Cal pushes off his chair. “Sometimes I wonder what you are doing here.” Shaking his head, he leaves the room.
The door barely closes, and the dimmed room tightens around us. Roxy stands up, her chair rolling away.
She bends over the large desk slightly as she reaches for the remote to open the blinds.
I grip her wrist. Her pulse jumps, wild and frantic against my fingers.
She turns her head, and our eyes meet. Hers are blown wide, hunger shimmering in them.
I rise and step behind her.
Her round ass presses against me. Heat in fabric. Pure temptation.
I lean over her, my thumb still on her pulse.
We’ve been reckless for a week, but this is a new high. Or a low—I’m not sure yet.
Anyone can walk in at any minute. There is no way to explain this. Fuck, I don’t even understand what drives me to act like this.
“Your heart is hammering,” I whisper into her ear, my body covering her lithe figure.
“Someone might enter,” she whispers, her voice shaky.
“Hmmm… and you like that.” My lips brush the corner of her jaw. “When is the next meeting here?”
I let go of her wrist and run my hand up her arm, slow enough to make her shiver, down her spine toward the globes of her ass.
She shudders but multitasks, flipping through the screen of her tablet.
“Twenty minutes.” The words are just a breath on her lips.
I squeeze her behind and crouch to trail my hand under her skirt. “What can we do in that time?”
“We should leave.” She swallows around the words, but parts her legs for me.
“Is that what you want?” I inch higher up her inner thigh.
She lowers her forehead to the table and taps it a few times, groaning. “That’s what a sane person would do.”
“I asked if that’s what you want.” I pinch her flesh.
“Ouch. You know what I want,” she snaps.
“I want to hear it.” My hand soothes the spot and continues up her smooth skin, the rasp of her fishnets a delicious scrape against my knuckles.
I finally reach high enough for her to gasp. Fuck. She’s not wearing underwear. “Have you come here to tease me with your naked pussy?”
“I came here wearing a cardigan and pearls to repel you.”
“And how is the pearl-clutching get up working for you?” I drag my finger through her heat, slow enough to make her pant.
Instead of an answer, she pushes into my hand, seeking friction. My cock responds immediately.
“Where is your underwear, Roxy?” I tease her bud with the pad of my finger.
“I ran out since you keep stealing them.”
I chuckle, and enjoy her whimper as I push two fingers into her. Fuck. I wish it were my cock.
“I like you bare like this. And I would like it even more if you walked around with my cum dripping down these beautiful legs while you order people around, managing the office.”
“You’re sick.”
“What can I say, you bring the best out of me, Little Thunder.”
I can’t curl my fingers at this angle, so I scissor them, and Roxy bites her forearm to stifle a moan.
She inhales sharply. Her body responds beautifully: hips tipping back, breath breaking, fingers clawing the desk.
“Please, please, please,” she chants into her arm.
“Still think we should leave?” I withdraw my hand.
She shakes her head, a helpless motion. “You’re—”
I push back in, and whatever she was going to say dissolves into a sound she probably didn’t mean to make.
“Liam, please…”
“That’s my girl. Beg, baby.” I snake my other hand around to massage her clit, and her legs give in. She sags against the table.
I slow down my movements, anchoring her there. Not letting her chase it. Not yet.
“Liam,” she warns, but I pin her with my hips, not letting her move. My cock throbs between us, but I’m too focused on her.
Her reactions.
Her stifled sounds.
Her surrender.
“Easy, baby. I didn’t say you could fall apart.”
She whimpers, the sound sharp and wrecked. It’s the most heady, empowering feeling, to get Roxy to the point where she balances on that edge where control and surrender blur into something dangerous.
My hand moves again, alternating the tempo, drawing it out until her entire body is wound tight around the waiting.
She presses her forehead to the desk, breaths coming in shallow gasps, every muscle trembling like she’s trying not to shatter.
“Liam,” she grunts.
I let the tension build until she’s shaking, until the room feels charged, until even I’m holding my breath.
When I finally let her tip over that edge, it hits her all at once.
She comes undone with a broken sound, knees threatening to give, my name caught somewhere between a gasp and a curse.
I keep her there, steadying her through it, letting her ride it out against the desk, against me, against everything she’s been holding back.
When the tremors finally ease, I straighten, ignoring the situation behind my zipper. I bring my fingers to her lips.
“You made quite a mess, my beautiful, dirty girl.”
Her tongue darts out, and she wraps her gorgeous lips around my digits, sucking on her arousal. Fuck. She’s perfect.
And mine.
The thought—a fucking fantasy—barrels through me like a wrecking ball. What the hell is wrong with me?
She is not mine.
She could never be mine.
To find my equilibrium, I jerk my hand away and pull back like she’s just burned me.
Roxy stands up and falls into the chair, her eyes hooded, a languid smile ghosting her face. Her just-fucked face is arresting.
I want to hoist her into my arms and kiss her. Instead, I reach past her for the blinds’ remote.
“I believe you were reaching for this.”
“Asshole,” she snorts as I step out of the boardroom, leaving her behind.
Along with my sanity.