4. FOUR #2
“Yes.” The word was strained, almost desperate.
I flattened my hands against his chest. His heart hammered under my palm. For all his outward control, he was shaking with the effort of letting me touch him.
Something in me softened. I kissed him slower, gentler.
His free hand gripped my thigh hard enough to bruise. “Don’t.”
I pulled back. “Don’t what?”
“Kiss me like I might break.”
The edge in his voice told me everything.
“I don’t think you’ll break.” I cupped his face, forced him to meet my eyes. “I think no one’s ever been careful with you.”
He said nothing. But he didn’t pull away, and when I kissed him again—slow, deliberate, almost tender—he let me.
His fingers never stopped moving. He added a third, stretching me, thrusting deeper while his thumb kept relentless pressure on my clit.
My head tipped back. Pleasure built too fast. I had been carrying the unfinished need from last night through every single hour.
Now every stroke landed against nerves already wound tight.
“Alex—”
“Tell me.”
“I’m close—fuck—”
His free hand slid into my hair, gripping, holding my face so he could watch. “Then come. Let me feel it. Don’t you dare hold back.”
I came hard, thighs clamping around his wrist, his name torn from my mouth. Alex didn’t look away. He worked me through every pulse, fingers still moving until I was shaking and oversensitive.
When I could finally breathe again I became aware of the desk under me, my open clothes, and the thick, hard length of him pressing against my inner thigh.
I reached for his belt. His hand closed around my wrist, tight.
“Not here.”
I looked around the library, still breathless. “You’ve got me half-naked on top of club history with your fingers still inside me. What part of this is suddenly too much?”
“I want you in my bed.”
The words landed low in my stomach. Not a request. Not quite an order. A confession in the only language he knew.
I slid off the desk. My legs were unsteady.
“Then take me there.”
His gaze sharpened. “You’re sure?”
I tried to button my blouse, gave up when his eyes tracked every movement of my hands. “If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it past the stairs.”
Alex picked me up again.
I laughed against his neck and wrapped my arms around him. “This is starting to feel excessive.”
The bedroom was through a door beyond the gallery. Dark walls. A large bed. Tall windows overlooking the rain. Nothing personal. Nothing that belonged to anyone but him.
He set me down beside the bed and for the first time hesitation flickered across his face. Wanting me had brought him into a space he had never shared.
I touched the open collar of his shirt. “You can still tell me to leave.”
His expression closed. “Do you want to?”
“No.”
“Then stop offering.”
I pushed the shirt from his shoulders. It hit the floor. He was beautiful in a way that felt almost unfair—broad chest, hard muscle, faint scars I wanted to map with my mouth later.
His eyes moved over my open clothes. “Take the rest off.”
The quiet command should have sparked defiance. Instead I held his gaze while I slipped the blouse and bra the rest of the way off, then unzipped my skirt and let it fall. I stepped out of my ruined underwear and stood in front of him completely bare.
Alex’s breathing stopped.
“Come here,” he said, voice nearly gone.
I did.
He pulled me against him and kissed me like he was starving.
Hands, mouth, teeth—everything rougher, hungrier.
My hands went to his belt. This time he didn’t stop me.
Trousers and underwear hit the floor. When only skin remained he walked me backward until the backs of my knees hit the mattress and I fell onto it.
He followed me down, settling between my thighs. The heavy weight of his cock dragged against my wetness and my hips lifted helplessly.
“Condom,” I whispered.
Alex reached into the nightstand drawer, tore the packet open with his teeth, and rolled it on with hands that weren’t entirely steady.
I watched him, then pulled him back over me. He pushed inside in one slow, thick thrust that stole the air from my lungs. The stretch was intense. Perfect.
Alex froze, forehead pressed to mine, every muscle locked. “Emily—”
“I’m fine.” I locked my legs around his waist and rolled my hips. “Now move. Hard.”
His eyes shut for a second. Then he did.
The first few strokes were controlled. That lasted until I dug my nails into his back and lifted to meet him.
Something in him snapped. His hand fisted in my hair, the other braced beside my head, and he started fucking me in earnest—deep, hard, relentless strokes that forced broken sounds from my throat with every thrust.
He watched my face the entire time, like the sight of me taking him was something he’d been denied for years.
“Tell me what you need,” he gritted against my mouth.
“Harder. Don’t you dare stop.”
He gave it to me.
The bedframe creaked under the force of him.
My hands slid down his back, gripping his ass, pulling him deeper.
There was nothing quiet left in Alex—only harsh breathing, the low, rough sounds he made every time I clenched around him, and the words he kept murmuring against my skin like he couldn’t stop them.
Beautiful. So fucking tight. Mine. Stay.
That last one hit somewhere deeper than the rest. I couldn’t answer. I could barely breathe.
Pleasure slammed through me without warning, sharp and overwhelming. I came with a broken cry, nails scoring his shoulders. Alex followed almost immediately, driving deep one last time and burying his face against my neck as a low, shattered sound left him.
For several long seconds neither of us moved. Then he carefully shifted his weight and looked down at me. The intensity had softened into something raw and unguarded.
I brushed the damp hair back from his forehead, still trying to catch my breath.
“That,” I managed, “was considerably more effective than office supplies.”
I felt the quiet laugh against my skin as he kissed my shoulder, then the side of my neck, softer now.
“You’re staying tonight.”
I heard the command. I also heard the uncertainty beneath it.
I touched his face. “Ask me properly.”
His eyes met mine.
“Stay, please.”
I laughed.
"Maybe you are a Beast."