Chapter 22 Deena
TWENTY-TWO
DEENA
I expected Cal to move fast. He’d won; I thought he’d rush to claim his prize. Instead, he watched me through half-lidded eyes, studying my every reaction. His hands skimmed down my sides, and the feathery touch sent bolts of heat through me.
I’d missed this. It had been a little over seven weeks since my parents’ anniversary party, and I felt like I’d been starving ever since.
Touch starved. Attention starved. Sex starved.
How could I have gone years without sex before him when now it felt like I’d die if I didn’t feel him inside me?
I trembled as his hands splayed over my thighs, tracing the crease at the base of my ass.
His declaration rattled around my brain, but I couldn’t make sense of it. Was he telling me he cared about me? Was he telling me he wanted more than just sex and bickering? Was he telling me he loved me?
I couldn’t think straight at the best of times when he was around. And especially not when his hands were on me.
Slowly—too slowly—Cal inched my skirt up my thighs. It was a black pencil skirt that hit just below the knee, and there seemed to be endless yards of fabric for him to tug. I squirmed impatiently, and Cal’s lips curved.
“Missed this,” he hummed. The way he said it made me feel like he meant more than just sex. He meant the energy zapping between us, the electricity that made me jump and writhe.
I’d missed it too.
But giving in right now felt like giving up—on everything I’d worked to achieve. Everything I’d run away from. On me. The very fabric of me. If I surrendered to the desire to be Cal’s perfect little pet every time he touched me, didn’t that make me weak?
The tight bottom hem of my skirt pinned my thighs together, and Cal stopped pulling it up. His hands slid over the sides of my neck, and he tilted my chin up with his thumbs. His eyes were intent. “Do you remember what I told you the last time, Deena?”
Just like that—just like he always did—Cal cut through the noise in my head. I immediately knew what he was referring to. I swallowed. “I’m in charge,” I whispered.
“You’re in charge,” he confirmed, eyes never leaving mine. “Now tell me what you want.”
Words clogged in my throat. I didn’t know what I wanted. I just knew that I was restless and wound up too tight, and he was the only man who’d ever been able to make that feeling go away. I stared at him, pleading.
“Do you want me to make you come?”
I blinked over his shoulder to look at the door.
He turned my head so I’d meet his gaze. “No one’s here.”
“Willa—”
“Left after she sent that email. Now answer the question, Deena.”
Did I want him to make me come? “Yes,” I whispered.
He grunted, and the line of his shoulders softened. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and commanding. “Keep grabbing that desk, love. Don’t let go.”
My grip tightened on the desk on either side of my hips, and Cal’s lips curved into a smile. Then he leaned down and kissed me, slow and thorough, until I was glad I gripped the desk because my legs were doing nothing to keep me upright.
The kiss was salvation. It was everything I’d told myself I didn’t need.
It was all his attention, his affection, his all-too-perceptive assault on my every sense.
Stubble rasped against my cheek as he kissed my jaw before returning to my lips.
His scent filled my nostrils. His tongue slid against mine, and I let go of whatever last defenses were holding me back.
I wanted this. I’d wanted it every day that I’d worked here. I’d wanted it every day I’d had him blocked. I’d wanted it the night we spent in rooms at opposite ends of the hall at my parents’ house. When Cal kissed me, everything was right in the world again.
And when his hands continued their task of lifting my skirt, I knew everything was about to get better.
He kissed me unhurriedly, his tongue tasting, his teeth nibbling, while his hands swept over the bare skin of my upper thighs.
Then his hands paused, and he looked down.
His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, his gaze intent as he stared at my thighs. At what I was wearing.
“I like to wear the stay-up stockings when I’m wearing skirts like this,” I explained. “Otherwise there’s the waistband of the tights and the underwear and the skirt and then the shirt tucked in, and it’s just a lot of fabric around my stomach… Are you okay?”
“Deena.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Have you been walking around this office wearing lace thigh-high stockings under your clothing every day?” His voice was raspy and harsh.
“Well, not every day—” I gasped as Cal’s hand slid up between my thighs, fingers curling around the gusset of my panties so he could slide his middle finger inside me, all the way in.
His eyes snapped up to mine. He bared his teeth as I bit back a moan, my back arching at the suddenness of his touch.
My lungs heaved, and a surprised laugh slipped through my lips.
Cal was not gentle. He curled his body around mine and bit the fleshy part of my shoulder where it met the side of my neck. He added a finger and stretched me until I had to grip his shirt and muffle my moans against his chest.
It was divine. It was everything I needed. Rough and hungry and all-consuming. Finally, I could breathe again. Finally, I was alive again.
“You have no idea how many times I imagined bending you over this desk and fucking you until you said you were mine,” he growled, fingers pumping as his thumb found my clit.
“And now I find out you were wearing these?” His free hand gripped my thigh, fingers digging into the lace top of my stockings.
He lifted my leg to curl it around his hip.
He rocked against me, his hand penetrating, his whole body rutting.
Then, just as suddenly as he’d started, he stopped.
And dropped to his knees.
He slung my left leg over his shoulder and grabbed my underwear like it had personally offended him. It snapped free, ripped clean in half. I gasped, then scrabbled at his shoulders as he licked between my legs with the flat of his tongue.
“Hands on the desk, love,” he growled, lips moving against my folds.
“Cal,” I whined.
“Grab that desk and don’t let go,” he ordered.
I pouted and gripped the desk just as his tongue found my clit.
My hips jerked. He clamped his hands around them and held me down, only to redouble his efforts.
He found my nub and sucked it—hard. A half scream slipped through my teeth, and my hands flew to his head.
I buried my fingers in his hair, not sure if I wanted to pull him closer or push him away.
He growled in frustration and grabbed my wrists. His eyes were nearly black when he met my gaze, lips and nose glistening with my arousal. “Am I going to have to tie you down just to eat you out, Deena?”
“Maybe,” I panted.
He huffed, lips curling ever so slightly at the corners, and returned my wrists to the desk.
That lasted until the next time he sucked on my clit, when they flew back to his head and twisted into his hair again.
I couldn’t help it. The sensation was too intense.
Except this time, he didn’t stop. He sucked until I arched off the desk, and then he slid his fingers inside me.
I flew apart. I don’t know if I made any noise. In that moment, it didn’t matter. I came so hard my vision went white. When I was able to see again, I watched Cal stand up from between my legs, wiping his mouth with his hand. His hair was a complete mess from me grabbing and twisting and pulling.
Without saying anything, Cal hooked a hand around the nape of my neck and yanked me in for a kiss. I tasted myself on him, and my whole body trembled. Our lips pulled apart, but our foreheads still touched as we caught our breath.
Something big had just changed.
Then, in a low voice, Cal said, “You didn’t keep your hands on the desk, Deena.”
I huffed, leaning my head back to meet his gaze. I loved the way he was looking at me right now. Like nothing else mattered. Nothing else even came close. “Oops?” I said, and his smile widened. I grinned in response; it was impossible not to.
I had no idea sex could be like this. A moment ago, it had been the most intense pleasure of my life. Now I was trying not to giggle.
Cal leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose. “Turn around and put your hands flat on the desk, love.”
“What, are you going to punish me?” I sassed.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” he said, using his hands on my waist to spin me around. A broad palm pushed down the center of my back, and I had no choice but to put my hands down to catch myself. Excitement curled low in my belly, and I realized it was because I trusted him.
I trusted him with my body and my pleasure. I trusted him to watch and listen and provide.
I trembled as he brushed my hair over my shoulder, then ran his palm down the valley of my spine. He tugged at my skirt, sliding it back down over my ass and thighs before lowering the zipper and letting the skirt fall to the floor.
Fully exposed to him, I exhaled all my stress.
I’d been craving this. I couldn’t deny it any longer. I wanted to give myself to him, and it was only my own stubbornness that stopped me from allowing him in.
He pressed his hand flat on the small of my back, and my fingers curled against the surface of the desk. His zipper scratched as he tugged it down. Fabric rustled. I heard a foil packet crinkling, and his hand left the small of my back for a moment.
Then he was there, hard and insistent, demanding to be let in. There was a moment of panic—it only lasted an instant, in that second when the blunt tip of him pressed against me.
What was I doing? This was a mistake. I was ruining this golden goose of a job, and this would surely blow up in my face. I was putting in jeopardy everything I cared about.
Then his thumbs pressed down on either side of my spine, fingers gripping my waist, and he pushed inside me. The panic evaporated as the pressure of his entrance overwhelmed me. I gasped, legs shaking, but there was nowhere to go.
Nowhere I wanted to go.
I gave in to the desire to soften, and he slid inside. Inch by inch. Stretching, pushing, making room that I didn’t think existed inside me for him. His groan was delicious. The sudden tightening of his fingers around my body gave me a surge of thrilling power.
He was as undone as I was.
Then he pulled out, all the way out, and his palm cracked against my bare ass. I jumped, and a moment later his hand was easing the sting on my skin. “Next time I tell you to hold on, you won’t let go,” he rasped.
I hummed. “Maybe,” I replied.
His palm cracked against my cheek again, and he thrust inside me before I could cry out. My yelp was swallowed by a moan, the sensations overwhelming me. My skin burned and tingled and glowed. And I softened against the desk.
I knew he felt my surrender when he panted, his palm landing near my head, his hips driving me harder into the desk.
I’d have bruises on my hipbones, and I didn’t care.
I welcomed them. I loved the overwhelming, all-consuming feeling of having him on top of me.
Of all my worries melting away, because he held them in his cupped hands.
All that mattered was this moment. These sensations. Him.
He pulled out and pushed back in. “You don’t lock me out again,” he commanded, voice dark and velvety near my ear. “From now on, you’re mine, Deena.”
I floated on a dark ocean, with the only thing keeping me above the surface the feeling of his warmth behind me. “Yours,” I whispered.
Then I was in the air; Cal had picked me up.
He sat down on one of the chairs across from my desk, spun me around, and impaled me.
My feet dangled on either side of him, unable to get purchase on the floor below my toes.
Cal rocked up from under me, his hand gripping the side of my neck as he pulled me down for a kiss.
It was messy and rough and perfect. All I could do was hold on. All I wanted to do was lose myself in this moment, in him. I softened my body, bouncing atop him as the world went fuzzy around the edges.
“Do it, Deena,” he growled. “Touch yourself. Make yourself come while you ride my dick.”
I should’ve burned with embarrassment to be spoken to like that, but instead I burned with pleasure.
My fingers found my bud, and it took only a handful of seconds before an orgasm had me in its grip.
Cal crooned praise in my ear. He held me where he wanted me and thrust into me while I squeezed out the last of my climax, my other hand gripping his shoulder so hard I was sure I was hurting him.
But he didn’t seem to mind. His teeth were bared, his eyes feral.
This was something beyond sex. This was a mutual claiming. This was the start of something—or maybe the end.
“Cal,” I gasped.
“Kiss me while I fill you with my cum,” he commanded, and then he captured my lips with his. His body went rigid, and a rough groan ripped through his throat. That sound, along with the feel of his hands gripping me like he’d die if he let go, made another twist of pleasure cut through me.
I collapsed on top of him, and he held me in his strong arms. His hands made slow sweeps over my skin, keeping me connected to the present. Connected to him.
Nothing had ever felt this good.