9. Elise #2
“I’ve spent two years convincing myself I was imagining things.” I lean against the desk, angling my body toward him. “That someone like you couldn’t possibly want someone like me. But I’m tired of pretending, Mr. Maine. I need to know if any of it was real.”
Something cracks in his professional facade. Hunger shows through, raw and undisguised.
“And if it was?” His voice has dropped, roughened. “If I told you that everything you noticed was exactly what it looked like?”
“Then I’d say…” I push off the desk and move to stand between his spread knees. “I’d say I’m done pretending too.”
For a heartbeat, he doesn’t move. The tension stretches between us, thick and electric.
Then his hand tangles in my hair and he pulls me down into a kiss that’s nothing like a boss should give his assistant.
***
The kiss is consuming.
His tongue strokes against mine, demanding and insistent, and I open for him with a moan that comes from somewhere deep.
His hands grip my waist, lifting me, and suddenly I’m straddling his lap in the leather desk chair, my knees on either side of his hips, his hardness pressing against my center through too many layers of clothing.
“I’ve imagined this so many fucking times,” he groans against my mouth. “You in my office. On my desk. Letting me touch you the way I always wanted to.”
“Show me.” I’m already pulling at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. “Show me everything you imagined.”
He strips his shirt off, and I run my hands over his chest, his shoulders, the ridges of his abs. God, he’s beautiful. All hard muscle and warm skin and the faint trail of hair that disappears into his jeans.
“Your turn,” he says, and pulls my shirt over my head before I can respond.
His eyes drop to my breasts, covered only by a thin cotton bra. “Fuck,” he breathes. “You have no idea how many times I pictured this. How many times I had to lock myself in my office after watching you walk around in those tight little blouses…”
“You thought about me? At work?”
“I thought about you everywhere.” He reaches behind me and unclasps my bra, letting it fall away. “I thought about bending you over my desk. Taking you against the window. Fucking you in the elevator between floors.”
The images flash through my mind, me pressed against the glass of his corner office, the city spread out below us, his cock driving into me from behind, and I feel myself get wetter.
“Which one was your favorite?” I ask, my voice coming out breathless.
“The desk.” His hands cup my breasts, thumbs brushing across my nipples. “Always the desk. You spread out on all my important papers, your skirt pushed up around your waist, begging me to fuck you.”
“I don’t beg.”
“You will.” His smile is pure sin. “Before tonight is over, you’ll be begging me for it.”
He stands abruptly, lifting me with him, and sets me on the edge of the desk. What’s left of the paperwork goes sliding to the floor, and neither of us cares. He’s already reaching for the button of my jeans, his fingers quick and sure.
“Lift up.”
I raise my hips, and he pulls my jeans and underwear down in one motion, leaving me naked and exposed on the desk while he’s still half-dressed. The power imbalance should bother me. Instead, it makes me hotter.
“Jesus Christ.” He’s staring at me, at the slick evidence of my arousal glistening between my thighs. “You’re so fucking wet.”
“That’s what you do to me, Mr. Maine.”
His eyes flash at the title, and he drops to his knees.
“I used to imagine tasting you,” he says, pushing my thighs further apart. “Right here on this desk. After everyone else had gone home and no one would interrupt us.”
His mouth closes over me and my hips buck off the desk.
There’s nothing careful about it this time, no slow build.
He’s hot and demanding, his tongue moving in tight, insistent circles while two fingers slide inside me, curling to find that spot, and I have to brace my hands behind me to keep from falling backward.
“Oh fuck…” The words tear out of me. “Rowan… Mr. Maine…”
He groans against my flesh, the vibration sending shockwaves through my core. “Say that again.”
“Mr. Maine…” I’m past pride, past embarrassment, past anything except the pleasure building inside me. “Please, Mr. Maine, I need…”
“What do you need?”
“More. I need more. I need you to…”
He sucks my clit hard, crooks his fingers inside me, and I shatter.
The orgasm rips through me, my whole body convulsing, my inner walls clenching around his fingers. Whatever comes out of my mouth isn’t language anymore, just his name and broken sounds I couldn’t stop if I tried.
He carries me through the last of it with slow, careful strokes, until I’m lying back on the desk, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe.
“One down,” he says, standing and unbuckling his belt. “I believe I promised you’d be begging before the night was over.”
“I don’t…” I have to swallow, try again. “I don’t beg.”
“We’ll see about that.”
He shoves his jeans down, and his cock springs free, hard and thick and already leaking at the tip. I watch him roll on a condom, my mouth watering at the sight.
“Turn over,” he says.
The command sends a pulse of heat through my already-sensitive body. I slide off the desk and turn, bracing my hands on the wooden surface, presenting myself to him.
“Fuck.” His hand smooths down my spine, over the curve of my ass. “Do you have any idea how many times I imagined you like this? Bent over my desk, waiting for me to take you?”
“Then stop imagining and do it.”
He enters me in one hard thrust, and I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming.
The angle is different like this, deeper, more intense. I feel every inch of him as he pulls out and slams back in, his hips smacking against my ass, his hands gripping my waist hard enough to leave bruises.
“Is this what you wanted, Miss Brown?” His voice is rough, breathless. “Is this what you came to my office for?”
“Yes…” The word comes out as a moan. “God, yes…”
“Tell me how it feels.”
“So good… you feel so fucking good…”
He reaches around, finds my clit, rubs in tight circles that match his thrusts. The dual sensation is overwhelming, pleasure building on top of pleasure until I can barely think.
“I’m going to make you come again,” he says against my ear. “And when you do, I want to hear you say my name. My real name. Can you do that?”
“Yes…”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, Mr. Maine…”
He thrusts harder, his fingers working my clit faster, and I feel myself climbing toward another peak. The tension coils tighter and tighter, every muscle in my body straining toward release.
“Come for me,” he commands. “Come on my cock and say my fucking name.”
I shatter with his name on my lips, his real name this time, “Rowan,” torn from somewhere deep inside me as the orgasm crashes through my body in waves. I feel him follow moments later, burying himself deep with a groan that echoes off the study walls.
We collapse together over the desk, both of us breathing hard, thoroughly wrecked.
“That desk is never going to be the same,” I manage eventually.
“Good.” He presses a kiss to my shoulder blade. “Neither am I.”
He pulls out carefully, deals with the condom, and then turns me around to face him. His expression is softer now, the intensity fading into something almost tender.
“You okay?” he asks.
“More than okay.” I’m still trying to catch my breath. “That was… intense.”
“Too intense?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Just right.”
He smiles and pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me. I let my head rest against his chest, listening to his heartbeat slowly return to normal.
But something in his expression makes me pause. There’s an ache underneath the satisfaction, something that looks almost like longing.
“Rowan?” I pull back enough to see his face. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“About all the time we wasted.” His voice is quiet. “All the years I could have been doing this. Holding you. Making you feel good. Waking up next to you instead of wondering what you were doing, who you were with, if you ever thought about me at all.”
The admission lands somewhere complicated in my chest.
“We can’t change the past,” I say carefully.
“I know.” He meets my eyes. “But we can make different choices going forward.”
I don’t know what to say to that. So I pull him down for another kiss and try not to think about how much this is starting to feel like more than just physical.