Chapter 3
Chapter Three
He stood and pulled me up with him. I went for his belt, and this time he let me.
I got it open, got his slacks down his hips.
When I freed his cock, I found it thick, hard and already leaking at the tip.
I wrapped my hand around him and stroked, and the hiss he made through his teeth was the best sound I had heard all year.
“Careful,” he warned, his hand covering mine to slow me. “I’ve been thinking about this too long to waste it in your hand.”
I sank to my knees on his rug instead. I looked up at his length and took him into my mouth just to watch his composure crack.
His hand flew to my hair, his head dropped back, and the patient man from the office groaned my name as if it cost him his life.
I hollowed my cheeks and took him deeper, greedy for every inch of control I stole back.
He let me have a minute of that before he dragged me off by the hair, gentle but firm. “Bed,” he ground out. “I want to be inside you when I lose it. I don’t want you on your knees.”
He stripped off his shirt, and then there was nothing between us.
All that warm skin and the hard length of him pressed against my stomach.
He kissed me hard, walked me backward down a short hall, and tipped me onto a bed that smelled like him.
He came down over me, settling between my thighs, and braced on his forearms so his weight pinned me just right.
“Last chance to change your mind,” he said, his hips already finding their place against me.
“Don’t you dare stop now,” I said.
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
He reached into the nightstand for the condom and rolled it down his hard length. Wes notched himself at my entrance, dragging the head through my wetness until I was begging.
He pushed in inch by inch, watching my face the whole time. His girth stretched my entrance and had me clutching his shoulders. When he was fully seated, he paused, jaw tight, and gave me a second to adjust.
“You feel even better than I imagined,” he said against my ear, “and I imagined a lot.”
I rocked into him just to feel the drag, and his breath stuttered against my neck.
“Stay still,” he warned, though he was already losing the fight with himself. “Let me do it. I’ve got plans for you.”
He gave me a few slow, careful strokes first, all the way out and all the way back, until I was the one begging for more.
“There she is,” he murmured, satisfaction thick in his voice. “I’m going to make every one of those months worth the wait.”
Then he moved and careful went out the window. He set a hard, deep rhythm, one hand gripping my hip to angle me up. Every thrust drove against a spot that made me cry out. The headboard tapped a beat against the wall. I dug my heels into the backs of his thighs and met him stroke for stroke.
“You wanted me to know,” he growled, driving into me. “Now you know. This is what you do to me.”
“Wes, God, right there!” I screamed.
“I’ve got you.” He hooked his arm under my knee, opening me wider. The new angle had me seeing stars. “Take all of it, you good girl. You dirty girl.”
He fucked me like he meant to ruin me forever. I clung to his shoulders and took every pounding inch. His forehead dropped to mine; our shared breath ragged between us.
He set his teeth to the cords of my neck, and I felt the growl against my skin more than heard it. Every part of me that had spent months pretending was being rewarded right now. I was loud, and I did not care, and the snap of his hips told me he liked me loud.
“Keep your eyes on me,” he said. “I want to watch you come.”
I came again with a sharp cry, my whole body locking around him.
He fucked me straight through it without slowing.
Sweat slicked us both. He pulled out, flipped me onto my stomach, and dragged my hips up before sliding back in.
The way he filled me from behind pulled a sound out of me I had never made before.
He fisted my hair, and I arched my back in response. His other hand found my clit, working around it in tight circles while he pounded into me. He leaned over my back, his chest against my spine, his mouth at my ear.
“You like this, my dirty slut?”
I could feel my pussy leaking. “Yes, Wes. Yes!”
Every drive forward rocked me into his fingers; there was nowhere to escape the pleasure.
His voice burned down to short, rough words.
The slap of skin on skin punctuated them.
I gripped the sheets and pushed back into him, chasing the next climax I knew was coming.
He rewarded me with a groan and a harder thrust.
“One more,” he ordered. “Give me one more and I’ll fill you up.”
“I can’t,” I gasped, even as the coil tightened again.
“You can. You will. You’re mine to command.” He bit the curve of my shoulder; his fingers relentlessly attacking my clit. “You’re mine tonight. Say it.”
“Yes, Wes! I’m yours,” I moaned, and that was all it took.
I shattered a third time, screaming into the air.
My pussy clenched around him, and he finally let go.
He buried himself deep, hips stuttering, and groaned my name as he came.
His cock pulsed inside me through the last of my orgasm.
We collapsed together onto the mattress.
His weight was warm and heavy across my back, both of us wrecked and gasping.
We lay tangled and still, his lips resting against my shoulder, his hand stroking lazy lines down my side. He pressed a kiss to my damp hair, then to the curve of my shoulder where his teeth had left a mark. His touch was softer now, almost apologetic.
“You okay?” he asked, the drawl gentle again.
I hummed, boneless, and felt him smile against my skin. The man who had just wrecked me handled the aftermath as if I were something precious.
When he finally rolled us onto our sides, he kept me tucked against his chest. I could feel his heart slamming as hard as mine.
“So,” he said, and I heard the smile in it. “Monday’s going to be interesting.”
I laughed, loose and happy. “Monday, you’re my boss again.”
“I’m your boss who knows exactly how you sound when you cry out in bliss.” He kissed the back of my neck. “Good luck sitting through the next budget meeting.”
“You’re terrible.”
“You wanted me to know.” He tightened his arm around me. “Best decision you’ve made all summer.”
“For the record,” I said, tracing a lazy line down his forearm, “I’m going to want to do this again. Probably Tuesday. Possibly in the supply closet, if you feel daring.”
His laugh rumbled against my back. “Darlin’, you tell me when and where. I waited for so many months. I’m not waiting that long again.”
I didn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong. And this was exactly how a hot girl summer was supposed to end–sore, smug, and already planning the next time.
THE END