28. Calliope #2
I attack him after that, my lips everywhere they can reach.
Tasting, learning, testing. He groans as my teeth graze his neck, his hands tightening on my hips.
The taste of him, coffee and something darker, more primal, makes me dizzy with want.
My fingers work at the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of him.
“Calliope,” he breathes against my skin, “we should—”
“Stop talking,” I whisper, pulling his shirt open. My palms slide across his chest, feeling the rapid thundering of his heart beneath warm skin.
His mouth finds mine again, hungrier now. His hands slip beneath my thighs, lifting me fully onto the desk. Papers scatter to the floor as I scoot back, pulling him with me. The cool surface of the wood contrasts with the heat of his body as he settles between my legs.
Desperation claws at my insides. I can’t get enough of him. Touch him enough. Kiss him enough.
My fingers trail down his chest, feeling the subtle ridges of muscle beneath smooth skin. When I reach the waistband of his pants, I pause looking up at him. His eyes are dark with desire, pupils blown wide.
“Tell me you want this,” I say, suddenly needing to hear it.
“I’ve wanted this since the first time you walked into my office,” he admits, his voice rough. “You, with your ridiculous questions about artifacts that shouldn’t exist.”
I smile against his lips. “And here I thought you were annoyed with me.”
“Terrified,” he corrects, capturing my mouth again. “Terrified of how much I wanted you.”
“Show me,” I whisper against his lips. “Show me exactly how much you want me.”
His mouth crashes against mine with renewed hunger. I gasp as his hips press against me, the hard ridge of him making my thoughts scatter.
“Gods, Calliope,” he breathes against my neck, his lips trailing fire down to my collarbone. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
Oh but I think I do.
I tug at his hair, pulling his mouth back to mine.
My fingers fumble with his belt, desperate to feel more of him.
The metallic sound of it unbuckling seems impossibly loud in the small office.
Yet when my hands wrap around the hard length of him and he moans the rest of my logic evaporates and all I can think about is having him, right here right now.
Oh his damn desk.
His hand rests against my throat, his eyes dark and hungry with lust. I don’t know what he sees but those hands begin ripping my clothes off in the next moment. While he narrates everything he wants to do to me.
“I’m going to take you apart piece by piece,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl against my ear as his hands push my shirt off my shoulders. “I’ve thought about this so many times. You, spread across my desk, completely undone.”
Oh yes, I need that immediately. It would absolutely fix my attitude.
My breath catches as his mouth trails down my neck, teeth grazing my skin. His hands make quick work of my bra clasp, and then his palms are cupping my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they peak.
“Lazarus,” I gasp, arching into his touch.
“I’m going to taste every inch of you,” he continues, his mouth following the path his hands have taken. “Starting here.”
He takes one nipple between his lips, sucking gently before nipping it with his teeth.
I moan, my fingers tangling in his hair, too consumed by the sensation of his mouth on my skin to think about anything else.
His hands slide down to my waist, then lower, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my pants. I lift my hips as he pulls them down with my underwear, and I kick them the rest of the way off. Cool air hits my exposed skin, making me shiver despite the heat coursing through me.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, stepping back to look at me.
Most of all, he looks at me like I’m beautiful. Like I’m whole and unbroken.
I grip his cock again, dragging him closer. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”
He groans, pressing his forehead to mine as I guide him to my entrance. The first press of him against me makes my breath hitch, my body already aching for more.
“Calliope,” he whispers, my name like a prayer on his lips.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Now, Lazarus.”
He pushes forward slowly, filling me inch by inch until I’m gasping, overwhelmed by the stretch of him. My nails dig into his shoulders as he begins to move.
“Fuck,” I breathe, my head falling back.
Lazarus grips my hips, pulling me against him with each thrust. The sound of skin against skin fills the office, mingling with our ragged breathing.
“Look at me,” he commands, his voice rough.
I open my eyes to find his gaze locked on mine, dark and intense. Something passes between us, something that goes beyond physical pleasure.
It terrifies me.
It thrills me.
He reaches between us, his fingers finding my clit. I gasp, my back arching off the desk.
“Come for me,” he whispers, his pace increasing.
The pressure builds until I can’t hold back anymore. My orgasm crashes through me, my body clenching around him as my vision whites out. My nails dig into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks.
Lazarus follows me over the edge, his body tensing as he finds his release.
His name falls from my lips.
Again and again.
For a moment, we stay locked together, our breathing ragged in the quiet office. My heart hammers against my ribs, and I’m certain he can feel it against his chest. His weight is warm and comforting, even as the edge of his desk digs into my back.
Then reality crashes back.
We’re in his office.
At work.
During business hours.
With colleagues just down the hall.
“Holy shit,” I whisper.
Lazarus lifts his head to look at me, satisfaction and concern mingling in his eyes. “Are you okay?”
I laugh, the sound slightly hysterical. “I just had sex with my boss on his desk. I’m either great or about to have a panic attack. Jury’s still out.”
He carefully pulls out, making me wince. Then he helps me sit up, his hands gentle as he brushes the hair from my face.
The tenderness of the gesture makes my chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with the physical.
His cell rings, reality spoiling the moment.
“Go.” I wave him off. “Take it.”
He drags his pants on and quickly dresses. “I’ll be right outside.”
I exhale when he leaves, my body humming. I dress a little slower savoring the feel of him that lingers on my skin. The smell of him. And the cum dripping from me.
I love it all.
Dressed and ready to get back to work, Lazarus opens the door, phone pressed to his ear. “Hey, I have to go topside. I’ll be back to help with the translation later.”
“Go.” I yawn needing coffee then actual food instead of chocolate.
Seems I really did just need an orgasm to fix my attitude.
Also I have to pick up the damn chocolate. Each individual piece goes into the bag. Except the third one. That goes in my purse. For later.
Done, I put the bag back in its hiding spot. Only when I reach back there, I find a small notebook.
“Don’t do it girl,” I mutter to myself while grabbing the ancient looking thing. It reminds me of a playbill but also not. “I’m doing it.” I grab it because I have curiosity problems.
Only when I open it, I feel my entire world shatter.
Shatter, break, collide with the sun.
“No,” I whisper to no one as I flip the pages. “No, no, no.” It’s exactly what I think it is. “The full fucking translation.”