Cassidy #2
He leans back in my chair, entirely unconvinced.
“I’ve just watched you replay the same clip three times.”
My mouth opens, then closes again, and I don’t even know how to explain this.
“I was checking the… timing?” I ask, before shaking my head. “No, the lighting. The pose? The… clothes…”
His laugh is warm, low, and entirely too pleased with himself. “Have you been doing something you shouldn’t?”
“No.” The answer comes much too quickly.
He doesn’t even pretend to believe me. “No?”
“I...” I glance mournfully at the paused screen. “I was working.”
“And were you doing anything else?” he asks.
I frown, shaking my head. “No?”
“You weren’t… touching yourself?” he asks, and now, I really gasp, shaking my head quickly.
He crooks one long finger towards himself, his expression never changing.
“Come here,” he demands, not a single bit of emotion in his tone.
Oh, fuck.
This is bad.
My pulse immediately stutters. “Harlan…”
“I won’t ask a third time, my perfect little luxury. Come here.”
The command settles under my skin before my brain can argue with it.
I carefully climb out of my nest, blankets falling away from my legs as I smooth my skirt and push my hair back from my face, as though that somehow disguises how flustered I suddenly am.
Hopefully, if I keep my front to him, he won’t see the wet spot that is definitely on my skirt.
My heart beats a little louder with every step, until his scent—warm brioche, honeyed citrus—drowns out everything else.
He waits until I’m standing beside his chair before looking up at me, his long legs stretching comfortably beneath the desk, shirt collar open at the throat.
“Do you need some help from your alpha, pretty girl?”
My head tilts. “With the campaign?”
His grin widens, and he shakes his head. “No. Not exactly.”
“Oh.”
Then, with what? I glance down at his trousers, my eyes widening, as I realise.
“Oh,” I repeat, a little more excited this time.
“Oh indeed,” he says softly. “I’ve got the perfect solution for our problems, little luxury.”
The smile that spreads across his face is a warning of what’s to come.
He’s dangerous.
I should probably be frightened.
Instead… oh, my scent perfumes another wave of arousal around the room, slick literally dripping down my thighs.
I’m excited.
“What’s the solution?” I whisper, my voice barely audible, which is probably a good thing considering how much lust is dripping into my tone.
Harlan leans back in my chair, his eyes travelling slowly up my body, causing my skin to prickle with heat.
“Have you ever heard of cockwarming, little luxury?”
I shake my head, my mouth dry, but my knickers literally soaked.
Fuck, I wish I could control myself around him.
“No?” His voice drops to something lower, rougher. “Then let me explain.”
He doesn’t shift from his relaxed position, but something in the air changes. His scent thickens, curling around me until I can almost taste it on my tongue.
If only I was tasting a different part of him…
“Cockwarming is a very simple concept,” he says, his voice so measured it almost sounds clinical. “You sit on me. On my cock. And you stay there. Dripping wet, painfully tight, and keeping me warm.”
My lungs seize, the air turning to thick honey in my throat. My fingers dig into my skirt. Everything else fades except the low, commanding rumble of his voice.
“Stay there,” I repeat dumbly.
Dripping wet.
Painfully tight.
“Stay there,” he confirms. “But there’s a catch.”
I whimper, a whine escaping my throat without permission. He smiles at me, almost as if he’s taking pleasure in my desperation.
“I know, little omega,” he murmurs, his voice huskier than it was before. He reaches out, and I whine again, neediness in my entire being, but rather than touch me properly, he just flicks my hair off my shoulder.
Teasing me.
“You don’t get to move,” he says, and even in this haze of lust, my brows draw together. “You don’t rock on me. You don’t grind, you don’t chase your own pleasure. No, you sit, and you feel me inside you. Feel how hard I am for you. How much I need you.’
My thighs press together instinctively, but I can’t do a single thing about the fluid dripping down them. About the way my scent is practically suffocating the rest of the air out of the room.
“You’ll sit there, dripping all over me, whilst I finish up—”
“You get to finish?” I gasp, betrayal easily seen.
He grins, that dark, seductive one that gives me tingles. “Not finish like that. But you did interrupt me from working, my lovely luxury, and unfortunately, I can’t enjoy you until I’m done.”
Holy fuck. Oh, wow.
Oh, wow.
I don’t have the words to explain how much this is turning me on. How much I want him to just… use me a bit.
My jaw drops. “So, I have to just sit there until you’re done? How long will you be?”
“That’s the idea.” His eyes glint with a wicked blast of lust. “Unless you’d rather go back to your little… video, and suffer alone?”
“No,” I say immediately, the word tumbling out before I can even think about it. “No, I want—I want you. I can do it. I can be good.”
His smile softens into something warmer, almost fond, and he reaches up to cup my cheek. His thumb traces the line of my jaw, and I lean into the touch, taking as much from him as he’s willing to give.
“You’re such a perfect girl for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, cupping my cheek properly now.
The praise hits me somewhere low in my belly. I’m trembling in front of him, my knees barely holding me up. My heart is hammering so hard I’m certain he can hear it.
“Before we start, I need to know you’re comfortable with this,” he says calmly. The lust has pulled back a little, and this is serious Harlan.
Unfortunately for him, I am nothing but horny Cassidy right now.
“I am,” I say, nodding quickly. “Really, really—”
“Shh.” His touch tightens a little, and I look at him, waiting for my next set of instructions. “In the moment, you might be begging and not actually mean it. I need you to be able to communicate with me properly.”
I blink, momentarily pulled from the haze of arousal. “Oh. Like… a safe word?”
“Yes. Something you can say if it’s too much,” he explains, his thumb rubbing back and forth over my cheek now. “Can you pick a word for me, luxury?”
“What kind of word?” I whisper, a little bit of anxiety creeping through the sexual desire.
“Something that’s just yours,” he says. “Something that means stop, no arguments.”
I bite my lip, tasting copper as I think. Harlan doesn’t push, doesn’t get annoyed that I’m debating this over. I don’t know why it feels like such a monumental decision, but it does.
“Home,” I whisper.
“A perfectly appropriate word for my perfect luxury,” he murmurs, and somehow that tone is all it takes to put me straight back into my desperate head space. “If you say home, we stop, we talk about what happened, we make sure you’re safe. Understand?”
I nod, my throat tight. There’s so much care in his voice that it overwhelms me. “I always know I’m safe with you. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he murmurs. “Now, pretty girl, I need you to lock your office door.”
I look at the closed door, realising it’s not locked, and anyone could walk in right now. I hurry across the room, my legs unsteady beneath me, and twist the lock with trembling fingers.
The click feels bigger than it should.
When I turn back, Harlan’s watching me with the same intense focus that used to give me chills. Now, it does the same thing but for a different reason.
For a much better reason.
“Take your skirt off,” he commands, still sitting back in the chair like he has all the time in the world.
I hesitate for only a moment before reaching for the zip at my back. My fingers fumble, slick making them clumsy, but I manage to push the skirt down my trembling legs.
The fabric pools at my ankles, revealing my soaked underwear. I step out of it, leaving me in just my blouse and underwear. His eyes darken, his scent thickening with desire.
Fuck, I’ve never felt so wanted.
“Are you going to mark me?” I ask, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.
His gaze softens, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before his expression settles into something more controlled. “Do you want me to, little luxury?”
I shrug, trying to play it cool, but my scent betrays me, perfuming with a desperate, needy sweetness that fills the space between us.
“If you want to,” I murmur, trying to sound casual, but my voice shakes. “I mean, you don’t have to. Only if you—”
“Cassidy.” His voice cuts through my rambling, giving me a stern look that has no right to make my tummy flutter like it does. “You don’t need to hide your wants from me. Luckily, you can’t hide your needs. I’ll make sure you get exactly what you’re craving, my precious luxury.”
So much heat is pulsing through me. My eyes are hazy — I think I’m drunk on my lust. Every limb is trembling with desire. My scent is practically nothing but fuck me energy.
His voice drops to a silky murmur. “Now, come here. Let me see you properly.”
I step forward, my legs unsteady as I walk. The distance between us seems to stretch and contract with each heartbeat. When I’m close enough to touch, Harlan reaches for me, his fingers curling around my hips, yanking me closer still.
Fuck, his touch burns in the best way.
“Turn around,” he commands, his voice rough with desire. “Let me see all of you.”
I obey, slowly pivoting until my back faces him, my cheeks flushing as he pushes me forward until my palms brace against the cool edge of my desk. His hands slide down my sides, fingers tracing the curve of my waist before settling on my hips. His breath is hot against my neck, and I shiver.
And then, he brushes a finger across the sopping mess between my legs, only a thin piece of fabric separating him from my heat. I whine desperately and immediately move against his finger.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he warns, moving immediately. “You’re going to have to get some better control over yourself than this, my luxury, before you earn yourself a little punishment.”