Chapter 5 #2
“Quiet,” I murmur against her, but I’m smiling, and she knows I don’t mean it.
She tries. She bites her lip, her head falling back, her chest heaving. But when I press harder, suck deeper, she can’t help it. A moan rips from her throat, high and desperate.
Footsteps in the hall.
We both freeze. Her eyes fly open, wide and terrified, and I feel the spike of her pulse where my fingers are still buried inside her. The sound is distant, maybe two offices down, but it’s enough. Enough to make her tense, enough to make her try to close her legs.
I don’t let her. I press my palm against her thigh, holding her open, and push deeper, curling hard.
“Logan…” she gasps, her voice panicked, her body betraying her by clenching around me.
“Shh,” I whisper, but I’m not stopping. If anything, the fear in her eyes, the way she’s trying to stay quiet while her body answers me, makes me harder. “Someone’s going to hear you, baby. You better be very quiet.”
Her eyes roll back, her mouth falling open in a silent scream. The footsteps are closer now, maybe one office away. She’s shaking, her hands gripping the edge of the desk, her whole body taut with the effort of holding back.
I stand and lean down, my mouth against her ear, my fingers still working her slow and deep. “You like that. The risk. Somebody coming through that door and finding you like this— spread open on my desk with my fingers inside you, my mouth on your pussy.”
She whimpers, a sound so desperate it goes straight to my cock. “P-please.”
“Please what?” My thumb circles her clit, pressing hard enough to make her jerk. “Please make you come? Please fuck you right here, where anyone could walk in?”
The footsteps pause. Right outside.
My heart hammers, but I don’t stop, don't even slow down. I watch her face—the way her eyes dart to the door, the way her breath comes in short, panicked gasps, the way her hips roll against my hand despite her fear.
Or because of it.
I realize it in the same moment she clenches hard around my fingers, her whole body going rigid.
She’s terrified of being discovered. And she’s never been more turned on.
“Fuck,” I breathe, understanding hitting me like a freight train. “You’re dripping, baby. You’re about to come just from the thought of being caught.”
She shakes her head, denying it, but her body tells the truth. She’s drenched, pulsing, her hips grinding against my hand with a desperation that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with need.
“Tell me,” I command, my voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me you want me to fuck you on this desk with someone just outside.”
“Please,” she chokes out, and the footsteps start again, moving past, fading down the hall. “Please, I need—”
“What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me.”
“I need you inside me. Please. I-I can’t. I n-need—”
I don’t make her finish. I’m already unbuckling my belt, shoving my pants down just enough to free my cock, watching her watch me. Her eyes are fixed on my hand, on the way I grip myself, and she licks her lips, unconscious, hungry.
I reach for her, turning her before she can protest, bending her over the desk. Her dress is still bunched at her waist, her ass bare and perfect, and I run my hand over the curve of it, squeezing, marking.
“Stay,” I order, and she goes still, her cheek pressed to the wood, her hands gripping the far edge.
I find the zipper of her dress and drag it down just enough to expose her breasts, her back still arched, her position obscene and perfect. The silk pools at her waist, her nipples hard and visible. I lean over her, pressing my chest to her back, my cock sliding against her ass.
“You’re going to take every inch,” I murmur in her ear, my hand wrapping around her throat—not squeezing, just holding, claiming. “And you're going to stay quiet while you do.”
She nods, frantic, and I don’t wait anymore. I grip my cock, line myself up, and thrust in deep in one stroke.
She cries out, loud, and I clamp my hand over her mouth, my other hand gripping her hip hard enough to bruise.
“Quiet,” I growl, but I’m smiling, thrusting again, deeper, harder. “You want them to hear? You want somebody to open that door?”
She shakes her head, but she’s pushing back against me, meeting every thrust, her body greedy and desperate. I keep my hand over her mouth, my fingers pressing against her lips, and she does something that nearly breaks me.
She opens her mouth and sucks two of my fingers in, her tongue swirling, her eyes closing in bliss.
“Fuck,” I grit out, my rhythm faltering. “You’re going to be the death of me, baby.”
I fuck her harder, the desk shifting against the floor with every thrust. She’s tight, wet—simply perfect. I can feel her clenching around me, her orgasm building, rising.
“Touch yourself,” I command, my voice harsh. “I want to feel you come on my cock. I want to feel you squeeze me until I can’t think.”
Her hand slides between her legs, her fingers finding her clit, and she moans around my fingers, the vibration shooting straight to my balls. I can feel her getting closer, her body tensing, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps.
“That’s it,” I murmur, my hips snapping against hers, the sight of her bent over my desk, half-dressed and completely ruined, pushing me to the edge. “Now. Let me have it.”
She breaks, her orgasm ripping through her with a force that has her screaming against my hand, her body convulsing, her pussy clamping down on me so tight I see stars. I keep moving, drawing it out, holding her in place while she comes apart.
“Again,” I growl before she’s even finished. "One more.”
“I c-can’t…”
I change the angle, thrusting deeper, harder, hitting a spot inside her that makes her jerk, her eyes flying open.
“You can,” I insist, slamming into her over and over again. “And you will.”
I feel it when she tips over the edge again, her second orgasm rocking her on the heels of the first.
Her body goes limp, her moans turning to whimpers, pleas, and broken versions of my name.
I can’t hold back anymore. I push in deep one final time, burying myself to the hilt, and come with a roar I don’t bother to muffle.
I spill inside her, marking her, claiming her in the most primitive way I know how.
We collapse together, my weight pressing her into the desk, my hand still over her mouth, her body still trembling beneath mine. I ease my fingers from her mouth, pressing gentle kisses to her shoulder, her neck, anywhere I can reach.
“Mine,” I whisper, the word barely audible, but I know she hears it. “You’re mine, Kiera. Don’t ever forget it.”
She turns her head, her eyes meeting mine, glazed and satisfied. And filled with something else—an emotion I willed myself not to understand. “Yours,” she agrees, her voice hoarse. “Only yours.”
I close my eyes, holding her tighter, and wonder how I’m ever going to let her go.
Because walking away from this—from her—is starting to feel like the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
And I’m not sure I can anymore.