Chapter Forty-Two #2
I wake up early the next morning, hit the local gym I favor for a workout with Gio, and finally unblock and call my manager.
I’m amazed he hasn’t dropped me considering I ghosted him for a long time, but he’s happy to hear from me.
I pass on my openness to PR—albeit reluctant openness—and listen to him drone on about image and strategies, but hang up on him when he suggests I do an underwear photoshoot for a second-rate magazine.
By the time I get to HQ, I’m reasonably content with my start to the day. Things really start looking up when I pass Victoria in a hallway. I’m heading to our in-house gym to work on neck strength and play around with a lightboard; she’s presumably heading somewhere to join the nerd army.
We’re in the hallway with the maintenance room. The one that she tried to hide from me in.
It takes a split second for me to make a ridiculously reckless decision that will make both of us late. Good thing I’m early, and I don’t care about delaying her entrance to the analyst’s cave.
I grab her arm, wrench open the door to the cursed room, and tug her inside.
Automatic lights switch on as the door slams shut behind her; I swallow her gasp in a scorching kiss.
She’s stiff for only a few beats before she melts into me, body softening against mine and hands sliding around my shoulders.
I’ve had a hard time thinking about anything other than her since the night I had her in my bed. Getting to touch her, taste her again makes me lose my grip on rationality.
“You didn’t text me last night,” I growl into her mouth, nipping her bottom lip in reprimand. I sent her a tipsy text at around 11pm, telling her that she would be proud if she saw how I was getting along with Elio.
She tugs on my hair in response, and fuck, my cock is going to punch a hole through my pants if I don’t get inside her in the next two minutes.
“I was busy,” she gasps when I fist her hair and tug her head back.
Too busy for me? Unacceptable. I am more than happy to remind her why I should come as top priority to her.
“What’s so important that you can’t fucking text me back?” I demand. I’ve never cared about something as insignificant as texting before, but everything’s different with her. I need to know I live in her thoughts rent-free as often as she lives in mine.
“Getting you on a podium,” she breathes. “Getting my algorithm—”
“Enough talk about work and your algorithm. I only want to know one thing.” I capture the shell of her ear with my teeth. “How many hours did you spend focusing on Elio yesterday?”
She stiffens. “Um…”
I tighten my grip on her hair, and her pupils dilate. “Four.”
“Four it is,” I repeat with a nod.
“What?”
I release her, only long enough to spin her around and flatten her against a desk holding a collection of cleaning products. I sweep them off with an arm.
“Asher, we’re at headquarters,” she hisses, even as she presses her ass right into my erection.
“So tell me to stop,” I tug at the hem of her shirt, teasing the bare skin of her flat stomach, “and I’ll stop.” It might kill me, but I’d never cross that line.
Her only response is a whimper.
“Tell me to stop, sweetheart,” I grit out, calling on every vestige of my self-control. “Do it now, or I absolutely will not stop.”
A heartbeat passes. Then two, three—
“Please don’t stop,” she whispers.
Satisfaction softens my stance. I drag her shirt up like we have all the time in the world, when realistically, we both have places to be. Her absence will be noted faster than mine, since she has a reputation for coming into HQ early.
I strip her one item at a time, admiring every inch of creamy skin as it’s bared to my gaze. My movements might be leisurely, but my need is the most urgent thing I’ve ever felt.
When there’s nothing left protecting her from my gaze, I have to rub a hand over my jaw. Her curves are slight but delicious. Her hair is a canvas of darkness, striking a sharp contrast over her pale skin.
“Hold the desk,” I tell her. “Or get on your elbows and spread those gorgeous fucking legs for me.”
She obeys without hesitation. There’s my good girl. I love that I’m the only one who gets to see her like this. I love that she wants to yield power to me—that she trusts me enough to do so. I love everything about this.
I run my fingers over her pussy. My cock hardens to dangerous levels when I find her already swollen and wet for me.
“My, my. Somebody’s already dripping like a needy, beautiful little slut,” I observe.
She releases a low, tortured moan when I rub over her clit with gentle, teasing strokes. Ten seconds in and her legs start trembling.
I need to taste her. I also can’t afford to come in my pants like a fucking idiot again, but thankfully, I took care of the worst of my need during my post-workout shower. I should be able to control myself.
“Get your ass on the desk.” My tone is a mixture of anger at having to wait even a millisecond, and pure desperation.
Victoria doesn’t need to be told twice. She lifts her ass onto the table, leans back on her palms, and gazes at me with a mixture of deep lust and wide-eyed wonder.
I plant my hands on her thighs and slowly spread them before lowering myself to the floor. The desk isn’t low, but I’m tall enough to have perfect access to her gorgeous, swollen cunt.
“You might want to cover your mouth for this next part, sweetheart.” I’d do it myself, but I kind of want her to fail.
It’s horrible of me to even have the thought, but I don’t mind the idea of someone hearing muffled noises from inside this room and wondering.
I wouldn’t mind if Victoria screamed the whole building down and let everyone know who she belongs to, but she’d rightly fear for her job if that happened, and I don’t want to get her fired.
I flatten my tongue against her entrance, craning my head to watch her face as she slaps a hand over her mouth and her eyes roll into the back of her head. Her nipples grow even harder, begging me for a taste, but I couldn’t tear myself away from her pussy if I tried.
I slowly slide two fingers inside her, inching them in just up until the first knuckle. She bucks against my face, and her hand can’t entirely muffle her moan.
Footsteps start sounding in the hallway.
They’re fast and sharp; nobody’s heard us yet, but it’s only a matter of time.
I need to hurry before HQ is too populated for us to go unnoticed.
I fix my lips around her clit and suck, at the same time as my fingers slide deeper and curve to hit that special spot inside her.
Now her hand definitely can’t muffle her cry—and we’ll both get fired if I don’t do something about it.
The telling pulse of her orgasm flutters around my fingers, but I only let her ride a few waves of it.
I pull her off the desk, spin her around, and push her upper body down.
She drops to her elbows, panting, letting out a quiet whimper, little trembles shaking her body. It’s the work of a second to free my cock.
I slide a hand around her neck as I line my head up with the promise of heaven. “Is this okay?” I whisper.
“Yes,” she gasps. “Choke me. Ruin me.”
She—is—fucking—perfect. “Tap the desk if it’s too much.” I tighten my hand around her throat, trapping her cry as I slide into her.
Fuck. Immediately, her blazing-hot pussy starts convulsing around me, and there is no fucking way I’ll be able to last.
All that makes it past my hand is a quiet, low, fractured, shuddering breath. She pushes her ass back, nestling it right against me, and my gut clenches. I slot an arm between her hips and the desk to protect her, slide out, and thrust in with enough vigor that she manages a groan.
More footsteps outside, accompanied by chatter.
I tighten my grip on her throat and set a brisk, staccato, harsh pace inside of her.
When another squeak makes it past my hand, I tighten just a little more and lean down to whisper in her ear.
“Be a good girl and stay quiet while I make you come again.” Her fingers curl into the desk, actually managing to scratch the wood, and her pussy convulses around me.
I manage to fuck her through her orgasm, gritting my teeth to stop myself from coming.
We really don’t have much time left, but I promised her four.
I slide my fingers between her hips and the desk as her second orgasm dies down, and stroke over her clit.
She tenses, and her entire body starts shaking, teeth chattering.
One of her hands leaves the desk to hold my wrist, her back bows, and holy shit, this is the most erotic, gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.
When she comes for the fourth time with a painful-sounding squeak, I lose control of myself.
I shoot deep inside her with a silent roar of agonized pleasure.
In the aftermath, she collapses face-first on the desk, little aftershocks shaking her body. I release her and brace my hands on either side to keep my legs from giving out altogether. Is it possible to die from the force of an orgasm?
Something tells me I’ll gladly spend the rest of my life finding out.
“Fuck, Victoria,” I whisper, brushing a kiss over her nape. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.” Her voice is a ragged whisper. Too ragged and scratchy.
Oh shit, did I—
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” With a renewed burst of energy, I straighten and stroke over her throat. “Was it too hard?”
“It was perfect.” Her voice is stronger now. “I came so hard I felt it in my scalp.”
I don’t relax until I turn her around, tip her head back, and examine her throat. It’s a little flushed, but no signs of bruising. Thank god for that; I’d hate myself if I genuinely hurt her.
“That was…” she swallows. “One way to replace our last experience in this closet.”
I chuckle. “That it was.” After a pause: “How would you feel about christening the sim suite next?”