14. Dominic #2
Her mouth opens under mine, and I catch her waist as she pulls me against her. I kiss her harder, done pretending I can keep this contained once she has chosen it. She tastes like mint and the coffee she stopped drinking hours ago. I’d watched the cup sit untouched on her desk while she worked.
She pushes my jacket from my shoulders. It lands over the chair she uses for senior executives who arrive prepared to challenge her numbers. Her hands move to my tie, dragging the knot down without taking the time to undo it properly.
I close one hand around the back of her neck and make myself pull away.
“Still yes?”
Her cheeks are flushed, and her lipstick is smeared at one corner. “Yes.”
“The office?”
“Yes.” She grips my tie and draws me back toward her. “I locked the door because I want you here, Dominic.”
I kiss her again.
She backs into the desk and lifts herself onto the edge before I can do it for her. The move sends a neat stack of reports sliding. Elena catches them with one hand, puts them on the credenza, and reaches for me again.
“You cleared your desk,” I say against her mouth.
“I moved confidential files. Don’t make it more romantic than it was.” The blend of foresight and determined practicality is so uniquely her.“”
I laugh and slide my hands beneath her skirt. “You planned it.”
Her legs open around my hips.
I kiss the place below her ear that makes her nails dig into my shoulders. “You spent the afternoon thinking about this.”
“You spent it waiting for me to ask.”
“Yes.”
Her fingers pause against my collar.
I draw her lower lip between my teeth. Elena makes an impatient sound and reaches between us for my belt.
“No.” I catch her wrist, needing her to understand this isn’t about speed, it’s about control. I press her hand flat on the desk beside her hip.
Her eyes sharpen. “No?”
“You asked for the man who’s been holding back in this office for four years.” I guide her other hand down beside her. “Tell me to stop if this isn’t what you want.”
She studies my face. “Don’t stop.”
I slide one hand beneath her skirt again. “Keep your hands there.”
“For how long?”
“Until I tell you otherwise. Yes?”
Her thighs tighten around me. “Yes, Dominic.”
I kiss her while I drag her underwear down. She lifts her hips to help, keeping both palms against the desk until the lace reaches her knees. I take it the rest of the way and set it beside her laptop.
I push her skirt higher and lower myself into the chair in front of her. Elena gasps when I spread her legs and pull her to the edge of the desk.
“Dominic.”
“Quiet.” The word is rougher than I intended, born from a sudden need to hear everything she doesn’t say.“”
She glances at the covered walls. “The floor is empty.”
“Then you can try.”
I put my mouth on her.
Her palms slide across the glass, but she keeps them where I told her. I work my tongue over her clit, slowly at first, then with the firm pressure that makes her hips lift. She tries to close her thighs around me, and I hold them open.
“All these years,” she says, already breathless. “We were just supposed to be working.”
I slide two fingers inside her and curl them. “We were.”
“You thought about this anyway.”
“Every time you argued with me from this desk.”
Her hand leaves the glass and grips my hair.
I stop.
“Seriously?” she asks.
“Where does your hand belong?”
“You can’t expect perfect compliance while you’re doing that.”
“I expect you to choose.”
She returns her hand to the desk, her jaw tight, and the silent choice is hotter than any word she could have said.
“You chose. Now hold still.”
I give her what she asked for until her thighs tremble against my shoulders, then rise before she can come.
Elena glares at me. “Why did you stop?”
I move between her legs. “Because I want to feel it.”
She pulls my shirt open, sending one button across the desk. “Then take your clothes off.”
She opens my belt and trousers while I drag off my shirt. Her fingers close around my cock, and the first firm stroke tears a curse out of me.
“There you are,” she says, satisfaction flickering in her eyes.
She strokes me again. I grip her wrist and bring her hand back to the desk. “You asked for the unrestrained version.”
Elena’s breath hitches when I turn her around.
I guide her forward until her palms meet the glass desktop and bend over her, my mouth close to her ear. Her reflection is faint in the dark window beyond the blinds, her cheeks flushed and her skirt bunched at her waist.
“Do you want me like this?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Without a condom?”
“Yes.”
“If I come inside you, you could get pregnant.”
“I know.” She pushes back against me. “I want you inside me.”
The directness of it, the absence of any excuse, almost finishes what her hand started.
The words almost finish what her hand started.
I guide my cock between her legs and slide inside slowly. Elena’s fingers spread against the glass as she takes me deeper, and I keep one hand at her hip until I’m fully inside.
“All right?”
“Yes.” She rocks back, taking me deeper. “Move.”
I draw out and thrust into her.
The desk shifts across the carpet. Elena shoves the laptop safely out of range without breaking rhythm.
“That has the revised model on it,” she says, because of course that’s what she’s thinking about.
“Of course it does.” I grip her hips and give her the harder rhythm she’s pushing back to meet. In an office typically full of phones and voices, every sound she tries to hold back lands with stark clarity.
I slide one hand around her and find her clit.
Elena’s head drops. “Fuck.”
“Look at me.”
Her eyes lift to our reflection in the window.
“Tell me what you wanted all afternoon.”
“This.”
“Be specific.”
I circle her clit and drive into her harder. Her mouth opens on a broken breath.
“You,” she says. “I wanted you to fuck me over my desk.”
Hearing the words, specific and stripped of all justification, feels like its own kind of coming.
“You wanted me to fuck you here. Now look at us.”
Her body tightens around me.
I watch her face while I change the pressure under my fingers. “Say my name.”
“Dominic.”
“Again.”
“Dominic.” She pushes back hard and loses the next words on a moan. “Fuck, Big D.”
I stop.
Elena goes still beneath me.
I’m buried inside her, trying to understand how Elena knows a nickname I haven’t used in years.
“What did you call me?” My mind races, trying to connect the name from a decade ago to her, to this office.
“I was distracted.”
“Elena.”
Her eyes close. “This is not the best time to have this conversation.”
“You know that name.”
“I’ve heard it.”
“Where?”
She turns her face toward the covered wall. Color spreads down the side of her neck.
“At Cliff’s wedding,” she says.
I know exactly which video she means.
“You were a teenager.”
“Yes, Dominic. I’m aware.”
“Who told you?”
“No one. Some of the bridesmaids were watching a video on a phone, and I looked before I knew what it was.”
The video.
I close my eyes for one second. “You saw it.”
“A few seconds.”
“And you heard me.”
“Enough to know you really like hearing your name.”
I think of Elena flinching when Marcus nearly said the nickname and questioning our compatibility while knowing exactly what I looked like naked. Making her say my name—she’d understood exactly what it did to me.
She shifts under me. “Are you horrified?”
A slow smile spreads across my face. “Horrified? No. I’m wondering how long you’ve been thinking about it.”
I pull almost all the way out and slide back into her slowly.
Her lips part.
“That isn’t what I said.”
“You remembered the nickname.”
“It’s hard to forget.”
I thrust deeper. “You remembered what I like.”
“You were very clear in the video.”
“And you sat across this desk from me for four years pretending you didn’t know.”
I laugh quietly. “If your ego gets any larger, we’re going to have a structural problem.”
“You called me Big D.”
“It slipped out.”
“Say it again.”
“No.” The answer is teasing, and the smile she tries to hide gives her away.