Chapter 16
JENNA
“Yeah, just like that.”
The words slip out of Abram as I take him in my mouth slowly, savoring the way he groans, low and guttural.
The taste of him is clean and intoxicating, tinged with something masculine and salty. He’s hot and heavy on my tongue, and the way his hand gently pulls my ponytail makes my stomach tighten with pleasure.
I glance up. His head is tilted back against the chair, mouth parted, throat exposed, vulnerable in the sexiest way. His suit jacket hangs open along with his white shirt, and that expression on his face—eyes dark, jaw tight—drives me to near madness.
Abram brings out something in me I never knew existed.
Something hungry. Something wicked.
One hand rests on his thigh, the other at the base of his cock, my mouth working him in long, deep strokes. When I swirl my tongue just beneath the crown, I feel his whole body tense, his breath stuttering. He’s close and I want it. I want to taste him, to feel him erupt against my tongue.
Suddenly, his hand tightens in my hair, and he pulls me gently off him.
“Fuck,” he mutters, standing and drawing me to my feet. His eyes are wild, his mouth dangerous. “I’d love to watch you drink every last drop, kotenok. But I’m not done with you yet. Not even close.”
Before I can catch my breath, he pulls me to my feet and turns me around, pressing me down against the desk. His hand rests on my lower back, pinning me there. My pulse spikes. I love it. The roughness. The way he takes control.
I’ve never experienced anything like this before, never let anyone take me in this way. Not because I didn’t want it but because no one’s ever deserved it.
But Abram?
He doesn’t ask. He claims.
I hear the crinkle of foil, the soft snap as he slips on the condom, and then—
He thrusts inside me in one smooth, deep motion.
I cry out, gripping the edge of the desk. The stretch is so intense, so perfect, I can hardly breathe. He fills me completely, like we were made for each other.
He takes me from behind, his touch sure and commanding. My palms press against the cool surface of his desk as his body moves with mine, steady, relentless.
The sensation is maddening—each thrust tightening the coil inside me until I’m breathless, aching, filled with heat and the quiet knowledge that I’m completely his in this moment.
He presses deeper into me, slow and sure. His hands are firm on my hips, guiding me, anchoring me. He leans in, his mouth brushing the shell of my ear, his voice low and rough as gravel.
“Fuck, Jenna,” he murmurs, every word curling down my spine like smoke. “You feel even better than I remember.”
I shudder. The memory of that night has already been burned into me, but hearing him speak it aloud—like he’s been thinking about it too—sets something wild and loose inside me.
“You were made for this,” he says, his breath hot, his pace steady and relentless. “For me. The way you move, the way you squeeze around me… you have no idea what you do to me.”
A moan escapes before I can stop it, high and broken.
He groans, thrusting deeper. “That’s it. Let me hear you. I’ve been thinking about this from the second I saw you walk into my office.”
My head dips forward, hair falling into my face, and I bite my lip to keep from whimpering too loud. But he notices. Of course he does.
“No,” he growls. “Don’t hold back on me. You wanted this and now you’ve got it. You’ve got me.”
“Abram.” His name leaves my lips on a shaky breath, hot need pooling low in my belly.
“Say it again,” he commands, voice like thunder against the storm of my thoughts.
“Abram,” I gasp, desperate now.
He grunts his approval, fingers tightening on my hips, and then his mouth is at my neck, teeth grazing skin as he says, “You’re mine, Jenna. Say it.”
God help me I do.
“I’m yours.”
I grip the edge of the desk, heart pounding. I’m so close, trembling with the effort to stay on my feet, with the weight of how much I want this.
And somehow, he knows. He leans in, his chest brushing my back, his breath hot against my ear. “Not yet,” he murmurs. “You don’t get to finish until I say so.”
A sharp little sound of half frustration, half bliss escapes me. Part of me wants to push back. But another part, a stronger one, thrills at being undone by him. “Yes,” I whisper.
His hand stills on my hip. “Yes what?”
My breath catches. The air thickens. “Yes… sir.”
He groans, satisfied, and picks up the pace again, faster this time. My body’s on fire while my mind unravels. But still, I hold back, right on the edge, held there by sheer will and the sound of his voice.
“Ask me,” he says.
I try to form the words, but they catch in my throat, tangled in pleasure. Finally, breathless and desperate, I manage, “Please, can I come?”
There’s a heartbeat’s worth of a pause before I hear, “Now.”
The orgasm crashes over me like a wave, shattering me in the best way. I cry out, raw and open, the sound echoing in the office like a secret that can’t be taken back. He holds me through it, steadying me, his hands sure and strong, even as I tremble beneath them.
When I finally find air again, he pulls me gently to my feet, turning me around to face him.
His expression is different. There’s still hunger, but there’s something softer, too.
He brushes a thumb across my cheek, leans down, and kisses me slowly, like he’s tasting me for the first time all over again.
It’s a perfect contrast. The man who just wrecked me now holding me like I’m something precious.
And I let him.
My hands curl against his chest as his mouth lingers on mine, and I swear I could live in this moment forever. The way he balances force and tenderness, roughness and care. It’s everything I didn’t know I wanted.
And maybe everything I’m a little scared I might need.
He lifts me onto the edge of the desk, his hands firm under my thighs as he steps between them. My heart’s racing—I can hear it in my ears, feel it in my fingertips. I gasp when he enters me again. It’s deep and slow, like he’s savoring every inch of me, and my legs instinctively wrap around him.
His eyes are locked on mine, and for a second, the whole room feels suspended.
I feel full, claimed. My fingers dig into his shoulders, broad and strong beneath his shirt, and I hold on as he moves.
Each thrust is deliberate, patient but powerful, like he wants to make sure I remember every second of this.
His muscles flex beneath my hands, every motion sending heat curling through my belly. I look at the unmistakable tattoo on his chest. The one I’d memorized that night.
A grin tugs at my lips.
He notices my smile and raises an eyebrow, still moving inside me. “What?”
I shake my head. “Just wondering how long you planned to keep it a secret.”
He chuckles, a deep, husky sound that vibrates straight through me. “Not long, apparently.”
His mouth finds my neck, then my shoulder, and I arch into him, needing more. Needing him. The heat is building again—my body humming, core tightening. I glance down to see the way we fit together, and when I glance up again, I see the way he’s watching me, his face intent with focus.
“Tell me,” I whisper, breathless. “Tell me what you want.”
He leans in, brushing his lips against my ear. “I want to see you fall apart for me. I want to feel you shake around me. I want to take you right to the edge and keep you there. Again.”
And just like that I’m close, so close it’s almost unbearable.
My hands find his jaw and I kiss him, hard and open, moaning against his mouth as we move faster. His rhythm grows erratic, breath ragged. I can feel him holding back, the tension in his body like a wire about to snap.
“Together,” I whisper. “Please. I want to feel it with you.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, grip tightening on my hips. He doesn’t need to say a word.
The final thrusts are almost too much. My name on his lips, his body trembling with mine. I cry out into the crook of his neck as pleasure crashes through us like a wave.
We slow together, our bodies slick with heat and sweat. He doesn’t pull out right away. Instead, he holds me, his hand stroking along my back, grounding me. My head drops to his shoulder.
“I can’t believe...” I start to say, but trail off, lost in the joy of the afterglow.
He presses a kiss to my temple. “Believe it.”
At that, I melt a little bit more.