Chapter Five #2
I grin, feral. My thighs lock, stomach clenching, sweat breaking hot at my hairline.
“Good girl.” I fuck her throat harder, my grip on her hair brutal, my eyes glued to her face.
I watch for fear, for doubt, but all I see is blushed skin, tears, and the smallest moan vibrating against me.
“That’s it, trouble. Moan for me. Let me hear it. ”
Heat claws down my spine. I’m close, too close. Her lips are perfect, wrapped around me, but it’s not enough. I want her ruined under me, dripping with me. No rubber, no barrier, nothing between us. She’s clean, I trust her, and I want to feel every inch of her little cunt clench on me raw.
I yank her off, spit shining on her chin, a line of it trailing down her neck. I step back, not taking my eyes off her. She’s a beautiful mess, eyes wide, lips swollen, a flicker of surprise breaking through the haze.
I head to the desk, veins standing out on my forearms as I point to the rug. “Crawl.”
She gasps, chest rising fast, doubt flickering across her face. “We do this my way.” My eyes on her, my shoulders tight as a bowstring. “Crawl to the rug, trouble.”
Her eyes dart from me to the rug, lips parting like she might argue. Then she moves, slow, palms pressing to the floor. The dress strains at her waist, pulling over the curve of her breasts as the slit rides higher. Black lace flashes, and I swear I feel it pulse just by seeing it.
Her breath shakes by the time she reaches the rug. She sits back on her heels, knees pressed into the fibres, her hands trembling against her lap. She tilts her chin up, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy with nerves and want.
“What now?” she whispers. Her voice is wrecked, shaky, dripping with honey.
My cock is heavy, and my knuckles ache from clenching my fists so I don’t grab her and fuck her right here.
Her hands press into her thighs like she is trying to keep them from shaking.
The sight claws at me, makes my blood thunder.
I put my cock inside my boxers. I circle her slow, steps heavy on the floorboards. My suit jacket hangs open, sweat beading at the hollow of my throat.
“Look at you,” I rasp, the words dragging out of me. “On your knees, waiting. You don’t even know what you’ve asked for, trouble.” Her breath hitches, eyes darting to follow me, wide and unsure.
“You want my cock inside you?” I crouch just enough so the light from the window catches her flushed face, spit drying on her chin. “Then you take my rules.”
I straighten again, rolling my shoulders back as I keep moving around her.
“Rule one,” I growl, voice a warning and a promise. “When I tell you to look at me, you fucking look. No hiding, no shyness. I want your eyes on mine while I ruin you.” Her lips part, a soft sound slipping out, her thighs pressing tighter together.
“Rule two. You don’t tell me to stop unless you mean it. Otherwise every little moan, every little ‘no’, is mine to ignore. Understood?”
She nods too quickly, and I grab her chin hard, forcing her head up, holding her there until she whispers, “Yes.” I release her, stepping back.
“Rule three.” My voice drops lower, edging on control, chest heaving with the effort of restraint. “You come when I say. Not before. Not after. When I allow it.” Her throat works as she swallows, cheeks burning, eyes glassy.
I circle behind her, crouching close enough to let my breath coast over her ear.
“I’ll bend you over this rug, lift your dress, and fuck you until your voice breaks.
You’ll feel me for days, sweetheart. Every step, every time you sit, I’ll be there inside you.
” She shivers, hands curling into fists on her lap.
“Say the rules back to me.” Her voice shakes, but she obeys, whispering each one. Every word she speaks makes my dick throb harder, my control slip further.
I stop in front of her, the scent of her shampoo is sweet, just like her.
My chest rises slow, as I slide my jacket off.
The fabric drops heavy to the floor, and her eyes track it, then snap back up.
I roll my sleeves higher; black ink cuts across my skin with skulls, drops of blood, pieces of violence carved into my flesh.
My hands flex, knuckles cracking, the tendons standing out like I’m seconds from breaking her open.
Her throat bobs. She swallows, small, nervous and I smirk, feral. “What’s wrong, trouble? Never seen a man’s sins written on his skin?” Her lips part, but no sound comes. “Every mark has a story. Every drop of blood, every skull.”
I crouch in front of her, arms on my knees, muscles tense, tattoos glaring in the dim light.
Her breath catches. Her fingers twitch against the rug, like she doesn’t know where to put them.
“Still want it?” My voice is a growl, deep enough to scrape her bones.
I lean closer, so my shadow swallows her whole.
“Still ready to let me inside that sweet little body and fuck you until you can’t walk? ”
Her pupils are blown wide, her cheeks flushed.
She nods once, quick, but it’s not enough. “Use your words.” My hand fists her hair again, pulling her head back so she has to look at me. “Say it.”
“I… I want it.” Her voice is a whisper, shaking, but it’s there.
“Good girl.”
My blood boils at the sight of her trembling, knees digging into the rug, every inch of her screaming nerves and need.
I yank her up by the waist, her gasp warm against my chest. The rug scrapes under her knees as I drag her behind the desk.
It is darker here, the light from the garden barely cutting the shadow, but if anyone enters, they won’t be able to see her.
Her back hits the floor, dress pushed up around her waist, thighs trembling under my grip.
Black lace stretches thin, already damp.
I hook my fingers in and rip, teeth gritted as the fabric tears away.
“Fuck. You are ready for me.” My tone scrapes low as I spread her knees, folding her tight, pushing them up and trembling.
Her breath hitches, chest rising too fast, eyes wide.
I pull my cock out, hard and ready to dive into her.
I line up between her legs, caging her small body under mine, and press forward.
Her heat clings instantly, wet and sucking at the head of my cock. She arches, a sharp cry escaping.
“You’re tight.” My jaw clenches as I ease in. “So tight you’re fucking strangling me.” She whimpers, nails digging at my arms. Her stomach hollows under the pressure, every inch of me forcing her body to take it.
“You’re too big,” she gasps, voice wrecked, head thrashing side to side. “Flynn…” Sweat running down my spine. I lean closer, one hand on the desk that creaks under my weight.
My chest heaves, feral and desperate, but I force the words out. “You want me to stop?” The words grind out, deep and rough. “Say it now.” For a heartbeat she freezes. Then her hips jerk, pushing up, forcing me deeper inside her tight, trembling cunt.
“Don’t stop, please don’t.” She moans.
The sound that leaves my throat is not human.
A guttural growl tears out as my control shatters.
“Fuck Autumn.” I slam forward, the desk groaning next to us, her cry muffled against my shoulder as I cage her in, pounding her into the rug, claiming every inch but still not able to go all the way in her.
I growl, chest pressed to hers, sweat dripping from my temples onto her flushed skin.
My cock buries inch after inch, the stretch making her back arch, her nails carving red down my arms. “You feel that?” My voice is rough gravel, primal and ragged.
My hand presses flat against her stomach, pushing down so the bulge rises under my palm.
“That’s me, sweetheart. That’s how deep I am in your cunt. ”
Her whimper breaks into a cry, head thrown back, throat arched. “Flynn—it’s too much—”
“Too much?” I slam deeper, teeth sinking into the soft skin of her shoulder.
“Oh baby, I’m not even all in your cunt.
” The desk shudders behind me, wood creaking with every thrust. Her dress is bunched at her waist, her legs pinned opened, trembling under my grip.
Every time I drive in, her voice breaks, raw and ruined, yet she doesn’t pull away. She moves with me. She moans for me.
“You’re so fucking tight.” Sweat rolls down my chest. “Milking me already, dragging me deeper. You want me to wreck you, don’t you?” Her lips part, eyes glassy, and she whispers,
“Yes.” That single word destroys me.
I pound into her, pace brutal, hips slamming into hers until the rug burns into her skin and the shadows swallow us whole.
I move my hand to her clit, pressing and circling.
Her body clenches hard, spasms around me, her cry muffled as I grip her throat hard, forcing her to meet my eyes as she struggles to breathe.
“Look at me while you come. Let me see you break.” Her pupils blow wide, her nails rip into my shoulders, and her body convulses, climax tearing through her in hot waves. The sound of it, the feel of it, rips the last shred of control from me.
I slam in one final time, balls deep, groaning low against her neck as my cock jerks inside her, filling her raw.
For a long second, all I hear is our breathing—hers, sharp and shattered, mine, ragged and feral.
My muscles quake, sweat dripping down my back as I cage her beneath me, my body still twitching inside hers.
I can’t see anything in this goddamn office except her face in the dark, lit up in flashes like a dream I wasn’t supposed to have. Her cheeks are flushed, lips raw from where I bit her, eyes wide and too fucking quiet.
I hover above her, still half-inside, and for a second I swear I feel the pulse of her heartbeat.
I lean down and sink my teeth into the mark I left on her shoulder; when a single drop of blood wells up, I drag my tongue over it, slow and possessive.
It tastes like sex and sin, like something I should regret but already miss.
“Flynn,” she whispers, voice small and trembling. My name barely escapes her lips. I lift my head and stare down at her.
“You okay, trouble?” I ask, and before I can stop myself, I lean in and kiss her.
I press my mouth to hers like I need the contact to tether me to this moment, like I’m terrified of what I just did and how badly I already want to do it again.
The kiss ends too fast. She shifts under me, tries to move, and the sound she makes when I slide out of her and her body locks under me drags a chill down my spine. I feel her wince. Her whole body tenses; there’s pain in it.
I open my mouth to ask again, to demand she tell me if I hurt her, but she’s already moving. I try to look at her to see if I left too many bruises or anything on her skin, but the lights are off, and I can barely see past the sheen of sweat and afterglow clinging to both of us like a curse.
She stands up too fast, gasping as she pushes her dress down and stumbles a little. Her gaze drops between her thighs, and I watch the way she freezes before she turns her back to me. Her voice is tight when she speaks.
“Bathroom,” she mumbles, and just like that, she bolts.
I’m still on the floor, half-naked, half-hard, still fucking stunned.
The door clicks shut behind her, and I exhale a shaky breath, letting my head fall back against the desk.
For a second, I think I might pass out. My heart’s racing.
My whole body’s buzzing. I don’t remember the last time I came like that.
Fuuuck.
I close my eyes for just a second and try to steady my breathing.
When I open my eyes, I look around, and I catch sight of the paper napkins by the bar in the corner.
I stand up; my fucking legs shake, and I need to take a breath.
I walk to the bar, but my mind keeps looping the scene like it’s burned onto the backs of my eyelids. Her face, her moans, the way she came, the little winces she tried to hide. I shake my head.
Shit, I’m getting hard again. I grab a napkin and wipe myself down, quick and rough. I need to check on her. See if she’s okay. See if she needs anything. I fucked her hard, and I’m almost certain she’s not used to this kind of sex.
She probably expected something slow and soft. A man who kisses her gently and says a lot of sweet nothings. I didn’t fuck her like that. I fucked her like a goddamn animal.
I can still hear the sound of her skin slapping against mine.
The garbage basket is in the other corner next to the entrance door. I toss the napkin and turn towards the door. When I pull it open, the bright hallway lights hit me hard. My eyes sting, and I look down to shield them until they adjust.
The napkin sits there, right on top. I blink. Lean in. Something about it makes my stomach tighten. Is that blood? I step inside, close the door again, and walk back. I reach in, pull the napkin out, unfold it. Just… a spot, dark and dried at the edges.
I stare at it like I’m waiting for it to explain itself. I pull my cock out and look down. More of it. Did I hurt her? Was I so fucking rough I made her bleed? I grip the napkin tighter and tuck it into my suit pocket. My chest is tight. My skin feels too hot.
I leave the office and head to the nearest bathroom. I knock, but no one answers. I open the door and step inside. Empty.
I walk straight to the bin. I don’t even know what I’m expecting. Maybe to see nothing and tell myself I imagined it, but there it is, paper towels right on top, with blood and cum. I don’t move. I just stare at it.
She winced, her body tensed, but she pulled me deeper anyway. She kept moving, didn’t tell me to stop. She wanted it.
Is that why she left in such a hurry? Did the blood scare her? Was it her period, and she got embarrassed?
I dial her number as I push the door open to the outside, needing the cold air more than I want to admit. The sky is dark, the gates wide open, and only the staff stands here.
Her car’s gone. Straight to voicemail. “Autumn, are you okay? Call me back.” I hang up, jaw clenched, just as Kaden steps out beside me.
“Everything all right?” he asks, his eyes scanning my face.
I don’t answer.
I can’t.
I’m still staring at the gate. Still trying to figure out what the hell just happened.