28. Leo
28
Leo
H er eyes widen in surprise, maybe alarm, but she doesn’t resist.
Her lips part slightly. “Leo, what…”
“Celebration,” I murmur against her mouth, cutting off whatever protest or question she was about to form. And then I’m kissing her. Not tentative like the night before. This is pure impulse. Relief, desire, possessiveness all tangled together. It’s hard, demanding, staking a claim right here in the heart of my empire, my office.
She makes a small, surprised sound, then melts against me, her hands coming up to grip my arms. Her response is immediate, fiery, meeting my hunger with her own.
When her lips part beneath mine, it’s a silent surrender that ignites something feral in my veins. I don’t kiss her anymore... no, I fucking claim her.
Our tongues clash, exploring, tangling, heat and hunger twisting into something raw.
“You taste so fucking good,” I say from the side of my mouth .
In response, she arches into me, a breathy moan vibrating against my lips. I swallow it like a man starved. Every rational thread inside of me snaps. There’s no going back, not now. Client meetings, contracts, the cold distance I’ve artificially raised between us, it’s all incinerated by the way her fingers knot in my hair, anchoring me to this moment.
To her .
Because Sabrina doesn’t just kiss me. No, she fucking unravels. Each flick of her tongue is a dare, a challenge to forget the world where she’s the consultant and I’m the client, where we’re supposed to be anything but this: reckless, desperate, alive.
My hands grip her fucking hot curvy waist, pulling her flush against me until there’s no space for pretense, no space for lies, just the primal rhythm of our bodies speaking what we’ve refused to say.
She’s the fire in my arms, and I’m fucking burning.
Fuck it all.
Let the world crumble.
Let it turn to ash.
All I want is her.
I pull back slightly, breathing hard, resting my forehead against hers.
“The sofa,” I rasp. “Now.” I nod towards the leather couch in the corner seating area.
Not the desk. Never the desk with her.
That’s reserved for the hollow transactions, the Michelles and Jens and Victorias of my past life.
This is different.
Needs to be different.
Sabrina’s eyes are dark, dazed, her pupils blown wide. She searches my face for a second, conflict warring in her expression .
Then, she gives a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
Surrender.
Or maybe just desire winning out.
I take her hand, ignoring the cane propped against my desk, and lead her towards the sofa. My leg protests but cock hardens even further with every fucking step, if that’s possible. I can’t tell what aches more at the moment, my leg or my cock. Probably the latter.
I push her down onto the edge of the supple leather so that her face is basically in front of my cock. She looks at it again, licking her lips. This time it’s not a microexpression, but an all out longing stare.
“Take off your shirt,” I command, my voice rougher than I intend. Testing boundaries. Seeing if she’ll push back.
She hesitates for only a heartbeat, her cheeks flushing again, then her hands go to the buttons of her silky blue blouse.
She undoes them slowly, deliberately, her eyes never leaving mine. A challenge? Or just… playing along? Fucking hell, I don’t know. But watching her reveal the lacy black bra underneath… it nearly undoes me.
“Good girl,” I murmur, the praise escaping instinctively. I reach out, my fingers tracing the edge of the lace before moving to the clasp at her back. It comes undone easily.
I push the blouse and bra straps off her shoulders, exposing her breasts. Full, marked by motherhood, but fucking perfect. Beautiful.
I lower my head, taking a nipple into my mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder when she gasps, her head falling back against the sofa cushions. I’m a little disappointed to discover she’s no longer lactating, but that’s fine. I could suck her nipples all day regardless.
She tastes so fucking good. All Sabrina.
I find her other nipple with my tongue, and I’m rewarded by another breathless gasp. Her hands find my hair, her fingers tangling, holding me there.
Then I pull back, needing more. “Your pants. Off.”
She complies without argument, shimmying out of her tailored trousers and sensible lace panties, leaving them pooled on the expensive rug.
She’s naked now, kneeling slightly on the edge of the sofa, looking up at me with those wide, dark eyes filled with a mixture of apprehension and arousal.
Fucking intoxicating.
I undo my own belt, my fly, and shove down my pants, then my underwear, freeing my hard cock.
Jesus. Finally. The pain of constraint was almost too much.
Free now. Fucking free.
My cock pulses hungrily, thick and ready, slicked with pre-cum. It looks bigger than I’ve ever seen it. And I’m being fucking serious. None of the other girls could ever do this to me.
Her eyes drop, widening slightly.
“You’re so... big,” she whispers, her voice shaky. “Condom?”
Right.
Fuck.
Almost forgot. Safety first, even in the fucking home office.
Especially in the home office.
I reach into the inner pocket of my suit jacket slung over the back of my desk chair and retrieve a foil packet .
Always prepared.
I hold it out to her.
“You put it on,” I command softly.
Her eyes fly back to mine, startled. But then I see a flicker of that same hungry I saw earlier when her eyes dipped to my crotch.
“A little present for you,” I explain.
A sly smile forms on her lips, and she swallows eagerly. Her fingers tremble slightly as she takes the packet, rips it open, and carefully, expertly rolls the latex down over my throbbing length. Her touch is incredible, wrapping around a thick, pulsing vein in my cock, and sending fire straight to my groin.
I’m almost surprised I don’t cum in her face.
Watching her perform such an intimate act, right here, in the seat of my power… it’s a fucking power trip unlike any IPO win.
“Good girl,” I praise again, my voice thick. “Now, turn around. Kneel on the edge. Hands on the back of the sofa.”
She obeys instantly, gracefully turning and kneeling, presenting her incredible ass to me. Her back is straight, her dark curls tumbling down. I place my hands on her hips, feeling the soft skin, the curves beneath my palms. She’s trembling slightly.
“Perfect,” I murmur against her ear, pressing the head of my cock against her wet folds. She gasps, arching her back instinctively.
I slide into her slowly at first, savoring the tightness, the heat. Her pussy clenches around me, slick and welcoming.
“ Fuck , Sabrina,” I groan, burying myself deep inside her, to the hilt.
She cries out, gripping the back of the sofa tighter.
I start to move, finding a rhythm, my hips driving forward, pushing deep, withdrawing almost completely, then slamming right back in.
Taking her.
Possessing her.
Right here.
In my office.
The sheer fucking audacity of it fuels the fire. My hand slides around her waist, finding her breast, kneading gently, my thumb teasing her nipple to a hard peak. My other hand slides down between her legs, my fingers finding her bumpy clit, and I rub slow, deliberate circles.
“Oh Leo,” she moans.
“That’s it,” I grunt against her neck, feeling her start to buck against me. “You like that?”
“Mmmm.” She nods frantically, unable to speak, whimpers escaping her lips.
I increase the pressure on her clit, matching the rhythm of my thrusts.
“Look at your reflection,” I command, nodding towards the large, dark screen of the powered-down monitor on the far wall. It reflects our joined bodies, a distorted, erotic image. “Watch us.”
Her head turns slightly, her eyes finding the reflection. A choked gasp escapes her. Seeing herself like this, taken from behind, exposed, my cock driving hard into her… it pushes her closer to the edge.
Her hips grind back against me harder.
“ Look at you ,” I growl against her ear, fingers digging into the flare of her hips. “Watching yourself take every inch. Loving every minute of it. Fuck, you’re shameless. ”
I look at her reflection, too. At the way her beautiful breasts hang down, framed by her dangling hair. I see the sweat-slick curve of her spine, the primal clench of her thighs as she takes me deeper. It’s abstract, almost obscene... just shapes and movement, her ass flush against my hips, the raw, wet rhythm of us fucking instead of talking PR and damage control.
Her gaze locks onto mine in the glass, defiance and desperation warring in those pupils.
“You love this,” I rasp, my thrusts punctuating each word. “Love getting fucked by my huge cock.”
A shattered moan tears free as her nails scrape the couch. The reflection doesn’t hide a thing, not the way her throat works around my name, not the tremor in her calves as she fights the climax threatening to unwind her body like a loaded spring.
“Whose cock is filling you up, Sabrina?” I demand, my voice rough. “Whose cock is making you come apart right now?”
“Yours,” she finally chokes out, her words almost unintelligible. “Leo… oh god… yours…”
“Yeah, fucking right. Mine .” I thrust harder, faster, rubbing her clit relentlessly. “Beg for it. Tell me you need it.”
“Please,” she sobs, her body convulsing around me. “Leo, please… I’m gonna…”
“Cum for me, you fucking gorgeous momma,” I growl, feeling my own release building, hot and demanding. “Cum on my cock. Now!”
With a final, strangled cry, she shatters, her inner muscles clenching around me in wave after powerful wave.
I can literally feel the clenching, like her pussy is milking me, and that orgasm of hers trigger my own.
“’Brina!” I roar, emptying myself deep inside her... or rather, the condom.
Then I collapse against her back, spent, breathing hard, the scent of sex and expensive leather filling the air. And what does sex smell like, you might ask?
This... salt and sweat and the tang of her slick still on my cock. It’s her perfume turned ferocious, peonies and cardamom and saffron clawing through something darker, more primal... the raw musk of my release smeared inside the condom... the stench of her surrender and my hunger tangled so thickly I can taste it. Like copper, like a split lip, like licking a battery.
Our scent.
Mine .
We stay like that for a moment, tangled, trembling. The frantic energy slowly recedes, leaving behind a vibrating intimacy.
Then, my fucking phone rings.
Loudly.
Jarringly.
Mia wailing at this moment, I could take.
But this?
This I can’t.
I glance up. On my desk across the room I squint and can just make out the caller ID: Luca Briggs.
Goddammit.
The fucker can wait.
But reality crashes back in with brutal force.
No.
No, I better take this.
Could be important.
Still officially working hours, after all.
I pull out of Sabrina slowly, regretfully. She slumps forward against the back of the sofa, burying her face in her arms, her shoulders shaking slightly.
Embarrassed?
Overwhelmed ?
Both?
“Fuck,” I mutter, tossing the condom in a nearby wastebasket and grabbing my pants, which are still around my knees. I slip on my underwear and trousers and then fumble with the zipper.
I glance at the still-ringing phone and sigh, then painfully limp to the desk and answer it. “Luca. What now?”
“Leo! Hey! Just checking in!” Luca’s voice is too loud, too fast, unnervingly cheerful. The kind of cheerful he gets after a few bumps. Or more than a few. “I’m working on that Balinski counter-proposal. How’d the call go by the way? Good? Anyway, I needed… needed a little something to stay sharp, you know? Figured I’d ask if you wanted me to come over and share the love.”
Stay sharp? Share the love?
My blood runs cold.
“Sharp, huh?” I say carefully, keeping my voice level, glancing back at Sabrina who is shakily, pulling her clothes back on. Her back is to me. “Everything under control over there?”
“Control? Absolutely!” Luca laughs, a little too loudly. “King of the fucking world, partner! Just gotta… stay ahead of the curve. You get it.”
I get it, all right. I get that my partner, the co-founder of my billion-dollar firm, sounds high as a fucking kite at ten o’clock in the morning. And I’m standing here, half-dressed, after fucking my PR consultant and baby mama on the office sofa, while our daughter sleeps down the hall.
My carefully compartmentalized worlds haven’t just collided. They’ve fucking imploded. And the fallout… the fallout is just beginning.
“So can I come?” Luca presses.
“No, Luca, you cannot,” I tell him. “Goodbye.”
I hang up.
Fuck me.