Chapter 17 #2
“I will never be comfortable on that thing.”
“You’re not exactly comfortable now, are you?” He shoots a pointed look below my waist. Rude. “Besides, I told you to let me handle the logistics.”
“That night was nothing but a very bad decision.”
His thumb strokes lazy circles on the inside of my wrist while my brain spins lazy circles in my skull. “Then why haven’t I been able to stop thinking about it?”
“Because you have OCD.”
He takes the file from my hands and places it on the table before I can object. “Just once more, Maeve.”
“I—” My protest dies on my tongue as he once again nuzzles my neck. Is it possible that he knew exactly which scent notes would trigger my pheromones? “Have you always smelled this good?” I say instead.
He chuckles against my skin. “My teenage years were a little rough, but—”
I pinch his side, making him squirm, but he doesn’t loosen his hold on me, nor remove his mouth from my collarbone. “Not what I meant.”
“You like it?” he murmurs.
Like it? I fucking want to snort the man, and that’s not saying anything about what I want him to do to my body.
If he can make me feel the way he did a few nights ago, he could smell like a pig farmer for all I care.
Actually, I take that back. My libido would shrivel up and blow away if he smelled like that.
“What’s it called? Your cologne?” I ask. Getting a bottle for myself would be safer than being around Pierce for my fix.
He hoists me up and sets me on the table, then pushes between my legs. “It’s a custom scent.”
Of course it is. I want to snap at him for it, but I know that would only reveal the depths of my desire, and right now, those are the only cards I’m still clutching to my chest.
But as it turns out, he takes those away too the second he slides a hand under my black-and-white floral-print dress and finds me more than eager for him. As his fingers make contact with my damp panties, he lifts his head and meets my eyes.
“You want this more than you let on,” he says, a smug look on his face that I badly want to smack off.
“That’s sweat.” Gross, but better than the truth.
“No it’s not, Panther.” He pushes two fingers inside me, exposing my lie.
I no longer care. My head falls back as I prop myself up on the table.
His hand pumps in and out, and a tiny moan slips past my lips.
He exerts the perfect amount of pressure, hitting all the right spots, but it’s still not enough.
I spread my thighs further apart, and he greedily pushes my dress up higher.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this,” he says, grabbing a condom from his pocket while keeping his other hand busy with me. He holds out the wrapper, and I dutifully tear it with my teeth.
“Well, you’re going to have to stop,” I say, panting just a bit, “because this is the last time.”
“That’s what you said last time.” Pierce winks as he rolls the condom on. “Now, lie back.”
I carefully lower myself onto the table. I will never be able to climax like this, but maybe that will bring him down a peg or two. “Well, this time I mean it.”
Pulling his hand out, he lifts my legs and tosses my ankles over his shoulders, zero regard for my knee-high Saint Laurent boots.
God, it’s like I’m nothing but a doll to him.
“We’ll see if you still say that after I’m done with you.
” Then he pushes my panties aside and thrusts into me hard and fast, sending a sharp burst of pleasure through my core.
I gasp as he fills me, spots dotting my vision for a few seconds.
He grasps my hips and uses them as leverage to push in and out of me. I’m flat on my back on the conference table, but I don’t even feel it. The only thing I’m aware of is the sensation of Pierce seated deep inside me, rubbing against the walls of my vagina like he owns it.
“Nothing changes,” I manage to get out, but it’s like my brain doesn’t remember what words are.
“Everything changed the second we kissed in that elevator, and you know it,” he says, grunting as he picks up the pace.
I shake my head, giving up on verbal communication entirely. As crazy as it is, my core is clenching tightly, and I may have been wrong about not having an orgasm this time. When I say the man is good at this, I’m not kidding.
He reaches for my clit, applying pressure with those expert fingers, and I start to spiral.
“Pierce,” I say around a moan.
He responds by thrusting even deeper. “That’s it,” he murmurs.
When my orgasm hits, I lock my ankles behind his head and cry out. I can feel him pulsing inside me as he releases, and somehow that only increases my pleasure.
Once we’ve both finished, he gently lowers my legs back down and helps me sit up. Now that my sexual needs have been satiated, I feel completely stupid. Mark this down as one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done, and don’t let me ever repeat it.
“Do you want to do this?” Pierce says, zipping his pants back up.
I frown at him as I hop off the table. “Do what?”
“Hook up. In secret, of course.”
“What a ridiculous question.” I smooth down the skirt of my A-line dress, but it looks none the worse for wear, even after being crushed against a hard, wooden table.
“Think about it. Sex whenever we want, no strings, no one finds out. You can relax, and I don’t need to go through the rigamarole of dates and gifts.”
“That’s what dating apps are for, idiot.”
He sticks his hands in his pockets. “This is much easier. Besides, I already know you’re a good fuck.”
I want to point out that it’s definitely not easier, but I trip over the last part of his sentence. “Excuse me?”
“Admit it. We’re good together.” Grabbing my waist, he pulls me toward him.
“I won’t, because we’re not,” I say, tilting my nose up.
“Come on, let’s try it. Any time you want. Text me and I’ll come.”
I bite my lip as I consider what he’s proposing. The day after I went to his flat, I had a million regrets, of course, but I also had one of the best days I’ve had in a while. The tension didn’t stay away for long, though, and by this morning, I was a bundle of nerves again.
Preston is often unavailable for weeks at a time, and even when he is around—he only gives me an orgasm about half the time.
The other half, I get tired of waiting and end up faking it, or he comes too early and it kills the mood for both of us.
I can’t believe I’m saying this, and it pains me to admit it, but Pierce was right about one thing—I hadn’t been properly fucked until he came along.
He tugs my lip from between my teeth, then leans forward to take my mouth with his.
It starts out sweet and innocent, but the second his tongue swipes across my mouth, it turns greedy and hungry.
I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down further.
His hands snake around my waist, trapping me in their wide grip and keeping me from moving.
A knock on the door startles us both, and we break apart just as it opens. One of the senior staff members sticks her head in and blinks in surprise when she sees us. “I’m so sorry.” She starts to close it again.
“No,” I say, and lunge for the door. “It’s fine. Mr. St. James and I were just finishing up our debriefing on the meeting.” Then I grab my folder from the table, shoot Pierce a “we’re done here” look, and walk out.
I may have lost that round—and had sex on a conference table, of all places—but just because you lose a single battle doesn’t mean you’ve lost the war.