Chapter 28
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
Alana
With perfect timing, Alejandro walks into the den right as I finish typing up the notes from my afternoon fundraising meeting. I greet him with a smile and place my laptop on the coffee table.
He stalks toward me without a word, his grin dark and wicked, and hoists me over his shoulder.
“Put me down.” I giggle, squirming in his grip.
Uh-oh. We’re headed toward his study. With all the drama of Lucy’s situation and then my meeting, I totally forgot about the preceding panty incident. He seemed to enjoy the picture I sent him, but still … Does the man have no sense of humor?
He kicks the door of his study closed behind us and sets me on my feet. His eyes rake greedily over my body, and heat blooms beneath my skin, anticipation licking a path up my spine. “Are you going to spank me again?”
He arches an eyebrow. “Do you want me to?”
I’m not sure how to answer that. The spanking was a little painful, embarrassing, too, at the time, but it was also sexy as hell, and I enjoyed it a lot. Especially the aftermath. “If that’s what you want, sir.” I flutter my eyelashes.
His dark eyes narrow on mine. My knees tremble. It feels like an eternity before he crosses his arms over his chest and speaks again. “Take off your clothes.”
With trembling fingers, I unzip my skirt before slowly pushing it down my hips and onto the floor and turning my attention to the buttons on my blouse.
His eyes follow my every move, so I go slower, giving him a show I hope he’ll enjoy.
The silk glides along my arms and drops to my feet, and he makes a sound that’s filled with both frustration and satisfaction.
He licks his lips while I unhook my bra, and he gives another appreciative growl when my breasts spring free.
My pebbled nipples harden further as they hit the cool air, and the look in Alejandro’s eyes makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
There’s no denying that he craves my body as much as I do his, and it’s intoxicating to have this powerful, gorgeous man so obsessed with me.
I hook my fingers in the waistband of my panties, continuing my striptease. “I didn’t know when you’d be home.”
“Leave the panties.” His low, commanding tone vibrates through my body.
“If that’s what you want.”
He closes the gap between us. “You are what I want, princesa.” He gives me a brief kiss and takes a seat behind his desk. He spreads his thighs and indicates the space between them. “Come here.”
I move to stand between him and his desk, and he runs his hands down my ribcage. They come to a stop at my waist, his grip firm and possessive, and then he simply rakes his eyes over me. Eventually they travel back to my face.
“So, getting me all worked up today was your idea of fun, was it?”
I bite my lip and nod.
His smile is dangerous and panty-melting. “Do you know what I like to do for fun?”
I hum and tilt my head. “Fuck?”
He barks a laugh. “Sometimes, yes.”
“But not today?” Disappointment swells. If he’s not going to fuck me, then why am I standing here in my panties—my now very damp panties.
“Definitely later.”
I dart out my tongue and wet my lip, and my whole body begins to tremble.
He slides his hands a little lower and grabs onto my hips. “Why are you so nervous, Alana?”
“Probably because you want me to be?”
Another sharp bark of laughter. Then he hooks his fingers under the seam of my panties at the top of my thighs and pulls hard, shredding the fabric in his hands.
“You’re a panty fiend,” I say with as much indignation as I can muster.
“Yes, I am. Yet you thought it would be funny to phone me at work and tell me you were wandering around downtown LA with no panties on. Knowing exactly what that would do to me.”
I wrinkle my nose, trying to look adorable. “It was kind of funny though.”
He taps the desk behind me. “Sit here.”
I sit my ass on the cool wood, and as soon as I’m seated, he grabs my ankles and plants my feet on the armrests of his chair on either side of him, forcing me to lean back on my elbows for balance. And now I’m completely spread open for him.
He groans. “Such a pretty fucking sight. Look how wet you are for me already, Alana. All I’ve thought about for the past four hours has been burying my face in this pussy.”
I moan, aware of the pleasure this man can bring with his mouth. “So you’re not angry with me?”
“Angry? After you sent me that beautiful picture? Why the hell would I be angry?”
Because I can never guess what you’re thinking, I think but don’t say. I’m pretty sure he enjoys that particular dynamic between us. Where I’m always a little on my back foot. He’s a man who thrives on control.
He wheels his chair forward and wraps his forearms around the backs of my thighs. Then he dips his head between my legs, but his eyes don’t leave mine, holding me captive. “Have you guessed what I like to do for fun yet?”
Heat creeps up my neck. “Eating pussy?” I say, still not accustomed to using that kind of language. But I do love him using it, and he always seems to enjoy when I reciprocate.
“Exactamente.” His warm breath dances over my wet center, and he licks a path from my opening to my clit. He repeats this over and over, until I’m squirming on his desk and moaning his name. When I’m close to the edge, he settles his delicious mouth over my clit and sucks softly.
Euphoria rolls through me in long delicious waves as he devours me, his eyes closed and a look of pure bliss on his face. He enjoys this as much as I do. For a man who’s built a reputation for being a cruel, heartless devil, he’s incredibly unselfish when it comes to sex.
He catches me looking at him, and his dark eyes narrow. I’m unable to look away as he brings me closer and closer to that edge.
A violent shudder rockets through my body, and ecstasy lights up every nerve ending I have.
I throw my head back, a strangled cry ripping from my throat, before I sink flat to the desk, my bones melting into the mahogany.
My devil of a husband coaxes the final tremors from my body with his expert tongue.
Gasping for breath, I wait for him to stop, but he keeps going, sucking on the hypersensitive nub of flesh until I’m hovering somewhere between pleasure and oblivion.
It’s too much, but if he stops I might actually die.
I can’t do this, yet I need to. Finally, after I’m driven feral with the need to come again, he slips a finger inside me.
The shift in focus sends powerful shockwaves through my body.
“Oh, god, Alex,” I cry as my second orgasm crashes through me like a freight train.
I buck against him, tears rolling down my cheeks.
I’m vaguely aware of him standing, the loss of his warm mouth and his skilled fingers registering in my orgasm-addled brain.
The metallic jangle of his belt buckle followed by the sound of his zipper has my pussy instinctively aching to be filled.
My body reacts to him on such a primal level—it’s mildly terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.
I’ve barely had a chance to steady my breathing when he fills me to the hilt with one smooth thrust. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you on my desk all day. And until I get you to the office at my hotel, this one will have to do.”
He wraps my shaky legs around his waist and kisses me, sliding his tongue into my mouth until I taste myself. I groan, always so needy for him.
“You love being fucked, don’t you, Alana?”
“Yes!”
“Bueno, because I do love to fuck you.”
Yes he does. He’s barely done anything else for the past few weeks, and even after I convince myself that nothing could ever feel as good as this time, it keeps getting better and better. Our bodies getting more attuned, our desire growing with each day. Never sated. Never done.
No matter how many orgasms he gives me, it’s never enough.
I crave him like a drug, and I don’t know how to stop. Or if I ever want to.