Chapter Sixteen #2
My answer is to turn us, to press her back against the hard wood of her office door. The movement is quick, possessive. Her back hits the door with a soft thud. I cage her in with my body, my hands on the door on either side of her head.
I'm a predator who has cornered his prey.
Her eyes darken with desire and a hint of fear. It speaks to the most primal part of me. The part that revels in this power, in this control.
But the other part of me. The part that I'm trying so hard to ignore. That part wants to protect her. From me.
My hands remain on the door. I don't touch her. I don't move.
Her hands, which had been on my chest, are now at her sides. Her knuckles are white where she grips the hem of her sweater. Her breathing is shallow.
My gaze drops to her throat. To the delicate, vulnerable skin begging for my teeth. To the pulse that beats a frantic rhythm there. A primal, protective instinct rises in me, so strong it almost chokes me.
I want to mark her. To claim her.
But I won't.
I lean in, my lips brushing against her ear.
"Don't move," I whisper.
My hands stay on the door, a cage of her own making.
My lips leave her ear and trail a path down her jawline. I'm testing her. Testing myself. Her breath hitches. Her hands remain at her sides.
My lips find the soft skin of her throat. I don't kiss her there. Not yet. I just let my breath warm her skin. A promise.
Her head falls back against the door, her eyes closed. Surrender. Submission.
My blood roars under my skin, in my ears.
I press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the place where her pulse beats a frantic rhythm. She shivers, a full-body tremor that she can't control. A soft moan escapes her lips.
My control is a frayed thread. A thin, fragile thing that could snap at any moment.
I straighten up, pulling away from her. Just enough to look into her eyes.
Her eyes flutter open. They're hazy with desire. Confused.
"My name," I say, my voice low and rough. "Say it."
Her lips part, but no sound comes out. She swallows, trying to find her voice.
I don't tell her again, just watch until finally, she manages to say, "Roberto." It's a breathy, pleading sound.
The thin thread of my control snaps.
I close the small distance between us, crushing my lips to hers. This isn't a test. This isn't a question. This is a declaration.
My hands leave the door and are on her in an instant. One tangling in her hair, the other sliding under the hem of her sweater to find the warm, smooth skin of her back.
Her response is immediate and passionate. Her arms wrap around my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair. Her kiss is as desperate as mine.
I walk us back, away from the door, towards the large oak desk that dominates the room. Her back hits the edge of the desk, and she gasps into my mouth.
I break the kiss, my hands gripping her hips. I lift her onto the desk, the papers scattering to the floor. She doesn't seem to notice.
I step between her legs, my body pressing against hers. I look down at her, at the woman who has invaded my thoughts, my dreams. My life.
I reach for the hem of her sweater. She raises her arms above her head, allowing me to pull it off.
She's wearing a simple bra underneath. Nothing fancy. But on her, it's the most erotic thing I've ever seen.
My gaze traces the line of her collarbone, the swell of her breasts, the flat plane of her stomach.
I want to memorize every inch of her. To worship her with my hands, my mouth.
My hands find the waistband of her jeans. The sound of the zipper loud in the quiet room.
My gaze never leaves hers as I slide them down her hips along with her panties.
I am a man who takes what he wants. And I want her.
Her hands are on my chest again, but this time they are not resting. They are pushing. Not away. Under my jacket, seeking the heat of my skin. Her touch is a brand.
I capture her lips again, a kiss that is meant to punish and to praise.
Her fingers fumble with the buttons of my shirt. I'm not helping her. I'm letting her do it. Letting her undress me.
My jacket falls to the floor. Then my shirt. Her hands explore my chest, my shoulders, my back.
I reach behind her and unhook her bra. It falls away, and I have to stop. Just look at her.
Perfect.
I dip my head and take a nipple in my mouth. She arches against me, her fingers digging into my shoulders. Her breath hitches on a sob of pleasure.
I move to the other breast, giving it the same attention.
Her hands are on my belt now, undoing the buckle. Then the button of my trousers.
My control is gone. Shattered. Now there is only need.
I pull her to the edge of the desk, my hands gripping her hips. I enter her in one smooth stroke.
She cries out, her head falling back.
I'm still for a moment, buried inside her. This feeling. This rightness. I've never felt it with anyone else.
She moves her hips, a silent plea for more.
I give her what she wants. I give her what we both need.
My movements are hard, fast. Taking. Claiming.
The desk rocks with each thrust. The papers on the floor are forgotten. The world outside this room is forgotten.
There is only us. Only this moment.
Only the heat, the friction, the desperate need for more.
Her hands are everywhere. On my back, my chest, tangled in my hair.
Her name is a prayer on my lips. A curse.
I feel her tightening around me, her body arching as she shoots up and over the edge quickly. She calls out my name, nearly dragging me over with her, but I hold out. Gritting my teeth, I keep moving, thrusting into her over and over.
But I'm not done with her yet. Not by a long shot.
I pull out of her and turn her around, bending her over the desk. Her hands flatten against the wood, her head bowed.
I enter her from behind, a new angle. A new depth.
Her gasp is one of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
I lean over her, my chest to her back, my lips at her ear.
"Mine," I growl.
Her answer is a choked sob.
I move, setting a punishing pace. The desk scrapes against the floor with each thrust.
She reaches between her legs to touch herself, and a wave of something hot and possessive washes over me. I grab her arms and pin them behind her back with one of my own. She's completely at my mercy.
I expect resistance, but Olivia doesn't fight me. She presses her cheek against the desk and surrenders to me.
It's the most erotic thing I have ever experienced, and it fuels the beast inside me, fighting to get out.
I can't go slow. I can't be gentle. I can only give her the raw, primal, dominant pleasure my body craves. The kind of pleasure that leaves marks, inside and out.
She meets my thrusts, pushing back against me, her body welcoming my possession. Her moans fill the room, a symphony of desire that drives me wild.
I bring my other hand down on her ass. The slap echoes in the quiet room.
She yelps, her body tensing for a second before relaxing into the sensation.
I do it again.
"Roberto, please," she sobs.
"Please, what? Tell me what you want," I say darkly.
"Mark me," she cries out. "Bite me."
The last of my control shatters.
I move my free hand to her throat, my fingers wrapping around her neck. Not enough to hurt her, but enough to make her feel my power. To make her feel owned.
I lean down and sink my teeth into the soft skin of her side, right next to her sensitive breast.
She screams, her body convulsing as she comes, a violent, shattering orgasm that rips through her.
The feel of her clenching around me, the taste of her skin, the sound of her release is my undoing.
I follow her over the edge, my own release a blinding, all-consuming force that leaves me empty and full at the same time.
I collapse on top of her, both of us breathing heavily. The room is silent except for the sound of our ragged breaths.
I stay inside her for a long moment, not wanting to break the connection. I press a soft kiss to the bite mark on her side.
She shivers.
I slowly pull out of her and turn her around to face me. Her eyes are closed, her face flushed. I kiss her, a soft, gentle kiss that is a stark contrast to the raw, primal sex we just had.
She wraps her arms around my neck, her body pressing against mine. Her kisses are hungry and demanding, a silent request for more.
I can't deny her anything.
I lift her into my arms, her legs wrapping around my waist. She's light, her body fitting perfectly against mine.
I carry her to the sofa in the corner of the office. I lay her down gently, her hair fanning out around her head like a halo.
I kneel between her legs, my gaze taking in every inch of her. The bite mark on her side is already darkening, a brand of possession. A claim.
I want to brand her everywhere.
I lean down and press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, then I set my teeth against it. Her body trembles.