Chapter 36 War
Chapter thirty-six
War
The line clicks dead.
Another pointless meeting.
I lean back in my chair, exhaling slow, watching the city burn gold beneath the windows. Four thirty. Almost time to leave.
My mouth curves, sharp with satisfaction.
She chose a ring.
Our ring.
For a man who owns half this skyline, I’ve never felt more like I own the world.
I could pack it in now. Go to her office, collect what’s mine, drive us home. But habit pulls me sideways. One last check.
I toggle the feed. The bookshelf camera blinks alive.
And the air leaves my lungs.
Olivia.
Her chair angled just so. Her skirt hitched high. Her thighs spread wide, soft and bare under the office light.
And her voice—low, breathless.
“Are you watching?”
My heart slams once, brutal, dropping to the floor.
She knows.
She knows about the camera.
For a split second panic rips through me, then the truth clicks in, sharp and savage.
She knows and she’s touching herself anyway.
Touching what belongs to me.
My cock strains against the confines of my slacks as I watch her fingers disappear beneath lace. Her gasp carries through the speakers, broken and sweet, and I grip the edge of my desk hard.
Fuck.
She’s wet. For me. For the thought of my eyes on her.
My good girl.
The sight of her surrender hits like gasoline on a fire. Every instinct in me screams to break distance, to end the delay, to take back what’s mine.
I close the feed with a vicious swipe, stand, and shove my chair back.
Because if she wants to be watched…
I’ll watch her up close.
And if she wants to give me her body like this—then I’ll take it.
All of it.
I leave my office, steps sharp, certain.
Time to collect.
The hallway disappears under my stride, every step a beat of possession hammering through me.
She thinks she can tease me.
Angle herself to my camera, spread her thighs, whisper into the lens like it’s my ear.
She thinks she can touch what’s mine without my permission.
I shove her office door open without knocking.
She jerks, startled, fingers flying away from where they were pressed against her pussy. Her skirt is still bunched high on her hips, thighs slick, lips parted, chest heaving like she’s been caught in sin.
She has.
My Olivia.
Her eyes widen when she sees me, shame and heat battling in her face. She goes to tug her skirt down.
With a smirk.
A smirk.
Oh my girl knows what she’s doing.
“Don’t,” I growl. The sound rips out of me, sharp and absolute.
Her hands freeze.
I stalk across the room, slow, deliberate, eating her with my eyes. Every inch of her is trembling from being caught. From knowing I saw.
“You knew.” My voice is low, dangerous. “You knew about the camera.”
Her breath hitches. She nods.
“And you touched yourself anyway.”
Another nod, smaller this time, her lips trembling.
Hunger knot inside me, burning hot, tearing at my ribs. “That’s my pussy, Olivia. Mine to touch. Mine to ruin. Mine to keep wet. And you thought you could take that from me?”
My hands catch her waist and lift her straight off the chair. She squeaks, weightless for half a second, before I plant her face-down against her desk, hands flat to brace herself.
The chair topples behind us.
“W-War—”
“You wanted me to watch,“ I say, my voice a low growl in her ear as I press into her back. “You spread your legs for the camera. You whispered for me.”
She whimpers. “You didn’t tell me about the camera.”
“I don’t have to tell you when I’m watching what’s mine.”
I push her skirt higher over her hips, baring the soaked lace beneath. I palm the heat of her cunt through it and hear her breath catch. “Didn’t think I’d come take what’s mine?”
She doesn’t answer. She can’t.
Not when I hook a finger beneath the ruined lace and rip it clean down the middle.
I drop the torn fabric to the desk like a receipt.
“Hands flat. Stay down.”
I unbuckle my belt with one hand, the sound harsh in the quiet room. My cock is already hard, leaking, aching.
“Did you come?” I ask, dragging the head of my cock through her soaked pussy. “Before I got here?”
“N-no.”
“Good.”
My hand fists in her hair, yanking her head back so her mouth falls open on a gasp.
I drive into her in one brutal thrust, burying myself to the hilt in that wet, gripping heat.
She screams, sharp and stunned. I slap a hand over her mouth.
“This office isn’t soundproof,” I murmur roughly. “But you know that, don’t you?”
She nods, trembling.
“Then stay quiet while I fuck you,” I say. “Like the good little slut you are.”
I fuck her hard, brutal, claiming.
Each thrust pushes the desk forward an inch. Papers scatter. Her moans muffle under my palm.
She’s soaking me, her cunt clenching tighter with every slap of skin.
“You think I wouldn’t find out?” I bite at her ear. “You thought I wouldn’t see you?”
Her eyes roll back as I hit deep again, again, grinding against the spot that makes her sob.
“I see everything, Olivia.”
I drop my hand from her mouth, grab her wrists, and pin them behind her back. Her cheek is pressed to the desk, lips parted and gasping.
“Fuck,” I groan, driving deep, grinding my hips against her ass. “So tight, baby. Always so fucking tight for me.”
Her pussy grips me, wet and hot, clenching around me like she’s begging me to stay buried forever.
I pound into her, ruthless, relentless, each stroke jolting her perfect body against the desk.
“You’re mine,” I growl, every word a thrust. “This cunt. This body. Every sound out of your mouth. All mine.”
She sobs, broken and needy, “Yes! War; yours!”
“Say it louder.”
“Yours!” she cries, voice hoarse, body shaking under the force of me.
Her thighs tremble, her breath breaks, and I feel it; the quick, desperate flutter inside her.
“Come on my cock, Olivia,” I command, my fingers finding her clit, circling in time with my thrusts. “Now. Let me feel you.”
She shatters with a moan, her body convulsing, cunt spasming around me, soaking me with her release.
The heat drags me under. My thrusts turn savage, each one harder than the last until I bury myself to the hilt and let go.
“Fuck, baby” I groan, spilling into her, filling her so deep it leaks around the base of my cock.
She moans through it, her body clenching around me like it needs every drop.
When I finally still, my body drapes over hers, my breath ragged in her ear, I whisper:
“You wanted to be watched.”
My lips graze her shoulder.
“Next time, I expect you to wait for me.”
She shivers beneath me with a chuckle. “Yes, sir.”
I pull out slow, loving the hiss she makes as I slide free. My cum spills from her, dripping down her thighs onto the floor.
I tuck myself back into my slacks, then smooth her skirt back down, fingers grazing the mess I made between her thighs.
She flinches, over-sensitive. Spent.
Wrecked.
Beautiful.
Ruined by me.
Exactly how I like her.
She slays limp, breath hitching, and I steady her with a hand at the base of her spine. My other hand pulls a cloth from the drawer behind her desk, one I placed there myself months ago. For moments just like this.
I clean her carefully. Slowly. Thoroughly.
Because she’s mine.
Once she’s decent, I help her stand, I steady her with a hand at the base of her spine, then reach for her coat hanging by the door; the long wool one I bought her last month, dark green, soft as sin.
I hold it open and ease it over her shoulders, one arm, then the other.
She’s still shaky, so I pull her close as I button each one for her, slow and sure, like she might unravel if I rush it.
“You shouldn’t have worn the skirt,” I murmur, adjusting the collar so it sits right against her throat. “It’s starting to snow.”
She groans softly, smiling up at me. “War, the car is literally in the parking garage. It’s always warm. I’ll be fine.”
My brows lift. I give her the look; the one that means she’s not winning this argument. Then I wrap her scarf twice around her neck, tucking the ends in, my knuckles brushing her jaw.
“You’re mine,” I say quietly, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. “I take care of what’s mine.”
Her lips curve, soft. “I know.”
I cup her cheek once more before letting go
Then I glance over my shoulder at the bookshelf.
At the red light still blinking.
Still watching.
Just the way I planned.