Chapter 5 – Cassandra #2
He sinks to his knees before me, hands sliding my underwear down my legs with agonizing slowness. My skirt is bunched around my waist, leaving me exposed to his gaze. I should feel embarrassed, but the naked hunger in his eyes makes me feel only desired, powerful.
"Wanted to taste you from the first moment," he confesses, pressing kisses to my inner thighs, working his way higher with deliberate patience. "Dreamed about it."
The first touch of his tongue makes me jerk, a cry escaping my lips. He holds my thighs open, giving himself access as he explores me with devastating thoroughness. Slow, broad strokes alternate with focused attention to the bundle of nerves that has me panting, trembling.
"Jonathan," I moan, one hand gripping the edge of the desk for support, the other tangled in his hair. "Oh god, yes."
He growls against me, the vibration adding a new dimension to the pleasure. When he slides two thick fingers inside me I nearly come undone.
The pressure builds, coiling tight in my core as he drives me higher. His fingers thrust deeper, faster, while his tongue circles my clit with relentless precision.
"I'm close," I gasp, thighs trembling around his head. "So close."
He sucks hard on my sensitive bud, fingers curling inside me, and I shatter. The orgasm crashes over me in waves, intense and all-consuming. I cry out his name, back arching off the desk as pleasure pulses through every inch of me.
Before I can fully recover, Jonathan is standing, fumbling with his belt. His eyes never leave mine as he pushes his jeans and boxers down his hips, freeing himself.
He steps back between my legs, one hand guiding himself to my entrance. "You're sure?" he asks, voice strained with the effort of holding back.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "I've never been more sure."
When he's seated fully inside me, we both pause, foreheads pressed together, sharing ragged breaths.
"Move," I urge, rocking against him. "Please, Jonathan. I need you to move."
He starts with slow, measured thrusts, each one sending sparks of pleasure up my spine. The desk creaks beneath us, papers and pens clattering to the floor with each movement.
"Harder," I plead, digging my heels into his lower back. "I won't break."
His pace quickens, each thrust more powerful than the last. The angle drives him deeper, hitting spots inside me that make coherent thought impossible.
"Like that?" he asks, voice rough. "This what you need?"
"Yes," I gasp, meeting each thrust. "God, yes."
His hands slide under my thighs, lifting them higher, changing the angle again. The new position has me seeing stars with every movement, pleasure building impossibly higher.
"Wanted this," he mutters against my neck, sweat beading on his brow. "Wanted you. From the first moment. So fucking beautiful."
His words, combined with the relentless rhythm of our bodies, push me toward a second peak. I cling to his shoulders, nails digging into the firm muscle, leaving half-moon marks I'll see tomorrow.
The thought of tomorrow—of seeing these marks, of knowing what we've done—sends a fresh wave of heat through me.
"Jonathan," I moan, feeling the tension coil tight inside me. "I'm going to—"
"Not yet," he growls, suddenly slowing. "Not like this."
Before I can protest, he withdraws, leaving me empty and aching. I whimper at the loss, but then he's lifting me from the desk, turning to sit in his office chair pulling me into his lap.
"Like this," he says, guiding me over him. "I want to see your face when you come."
I sink down on him slowly, taking him even deeper in this new position. We both groan at the sensation. His hands settle on my hips, helping me find a rhythm that soon has us both panting.
I can see everything, the flush on his chest, the concentration in his eyes, the way his jaw tightens with each thrust. His hands roam my body, cupping my breasts, tracing my curves, as if he can't get enough of touching me.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, one hand coming up to brush a curl from my face. "So fucking perfect."
The tenderness in the gesture, contrasting with the raw desire in his voice, makes my heart clench. I lean down to kiss him, pouring everything I can't say into it. He responds with equal fervor, tongue tangling with mine as our bodies continue their primal dance.
The new angle sends him deeper with each movement, hitting a spot inside me that makes sparks explode behind my eyelids. My pace quickens, chasing the building pleasure. His hands grip my hips tighter, guiding me, urging me on.
"That's it," he encourages, voice strained. "Take what you want. Show me how you like it."
I lose myself in the rhythm, in the feeling of him filling me so completely. One of his hands slides between us, finding where we're joined, his thumb circling my sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Oh god," I gasp, the dual sensations pushing me closer to the edge. "Jonathan, I'm close."
"Let go," he urges, eyes locked on mine. "I want to feel you come around me."
His thumb presses harder, circling faster, and the tension inside me snaps.
The orgasm hits like a tidal wave, more intense than the first, radiating outward until I'm trembling in his arms. I cry out his name, back arching, inner muscles clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me.
Jonathan holds me through it, his movements slowing to let me ride out every aftershock. When I collapse against his chest, boneless and gasping, he wraps his arms around me tightly.
I can feel him still hard inside me, his restraint evident in the tension of his muscles. I lift my head, meeting his gaze.
"You didn't..."
His smile is strained. "Wanted to make sure you were taken care of first."
"Your turn," I whisper, kissing him deeply.
His control shatters. With a growl, he stands, still connected, and turns to bend me over the desk. The position is primal, possessive, his body covering mine as he begins to move again.
"This okay?" he asks against my ear, even as his hips drive forward.
"Yes," I gasp, the new angle sending fresh sparks of pleasure through me. "God, yes."
His pace is punishing now, all restraint abandoned. One hand presses between my shoulder blades, keeping me bent over the desk. The other grips my hip hard enough to bruise. The sound of skin against skin fills the office, punctuated by our ragged breathing and occasional groans.
I push back against him, meeting each thrust, wanting to feel him lose control because of me. My name falls from his lips like a prayer, a curse, a confession.
"Cassandra... fuck... I can't hold back much longer."
"Don't," I urge. "Let go. I want to feel you."
His rhythm falters, his grip tightens, and with a final, deep thrust, he groans my name as he finds his release. I feel the pulse of him inside me, his body shuddering against mine, his forehead pressed to my back as he rides out the waves of pleasure.
Our breathing slowly syncs, heartbeats gradually returning to normal. His hand, no longer gripping, now strokes gently up and down my side, a soothing caress that makes me feel cherished.
Finally, with obvious reluctance, he straightens and helps me up, turning me to face him. I expect awkwardness, perhaps regret, but what I see in his eyes is wonder, tenderness, and lingering heat.
He brushes a curl from my face, the gesture achingly gentle compared to the raw passion of moments before. "You okay?"
I nod, suddenly shy despite the intimacy we've just shared. "More than okay."
He smiles. It transforms his face, making him look younger, lighter. I realize I want to see that smile every day, want to be the one who puts it there.
The thought should scare me. It's too soon, too fast, too intense. But as he pulls me against his chest, arms wrapped securely around me, I can't bring myself to care about "too soon" or "too fast."
Outside, the Fall Festival continues, oblivious to the world that's just shifted on its axis in here. Inside, we hold each other, neither willing to be the first to let go, to acknowledge what we've done and what it means.
For now, this is enough—the warmth of his skin against mine, the steady beat of his heart under my ear, the knowledge that whatever happens next, we've crossed a line that can never be uncrossed.
And I don't want to go back.