Chapter 9
SERAPHINA
There’s no way I’m going to deny Rafe Montero, my boss, billionaire real estate investment broker, grumpy to my sunshine, when he’s finally giving in.
When I lock the door, my breathing changes.
I’m not nervous. I’m excited, and with each step I take back towards the man I’ve wanted ever since I laid eyes on him, I see the hunger in his own.
“Right here, Sera.” Rafe pushes back from the table, spreads his thigh, and it’s then I notice that he’s already discarded his suit jacket, rolled his sleeves up, and unbuttoned his shirt even more than when he dressed in my presence earlier this morning.
“Is this spot taken?” I say with a tease. His green eyes change color. Gone are the small flecks of yellow interspersed with green. Now they’re dark, raw, and burn with an unmasked intensity.
“Not at fucking all.” My hands rest on the table behind me and his grip my hips, pushing my backward until I’m sitting down.
I yield to him. At the unspoken command in his gaze when he nods at my legs, I spread them open, opening my thighs.
My tight pencil skirt barely gives way, and when he drags his hands down the outside of my thighs, going straight to the hem, his calloused fingers push the fabric up, and I lift my hips up until it’s bunched around my waist.
“Rafe.” There’s nothing left between us except his scorching gaze and the delicate, damp barrier of my lace panties. He has me right where he wants me, pinned to the edge of the conference table, completely open to him and whatever he wants.
A choked sob full of pure, unadulterated lust escapes my lips and shatters the silence in the boardroom.
Rafe bends his head, squeezing the insides of my thighs with his fingers, and licks me through the lace.
Never in my life could I have imagined how it would feel to have him between my thighs.
My hopes and dreams are coming to life. My grumpy, wounded billionaire boss is finally giving in.
He sucks my clit through the fabric, groaning and causing a shiver to slide through my nervous system.
His hands move from my thighs to wrench my blouse from the waistband of my skirt, large fingers fumbling with a sudden maddening urgency to find his way beneath.
A hear a button hit the polished wood right before he pushes under the lace of my bra.
Big warm palms cup my full breasts, his thumbs sweeping over my aching, sensitive nipple.
“Rafe.” A jolt of pure electricity is sent straight to my core. He breathes me in, deep, intoxicating, muttering a curse against my aching core.
Another whimper leaves my lips. My fingers find purchase in his shoulder, gripping the white fabric of his button-down shirt, wrinkling the tailored perfection.
Rafe keeps licking over my wet center, twirling his tongue around my clit.
The friction of the wet lace has me on the brink of delirium.
He doesn’t stop there. He traces the sensitive lines of my inner thighs, teasing the edge of my panties.
I wish like hell he’d tear the dumb thing off my body.
“Please,” I gasp, my voice coming out broken. The tips of my fingers dig in and my heels press into his back in an attempt to spur him on. It doesn’t work. I arch my back, nearly levitating off the mahogany table as the sensation rolls through me in waves, and still, he takes his time.
“Fuck. Need to taste you right from the source.” His voice is a low, possessive growl that vibrates against my skin. I’m nearly crying in relief when he finally relents, and a finger hooks into the damp lace to push it to the side.
And he eats.
The man laps at my bare, aching center in one long fluid stroke, from my entrance to my clit, going back and forth, fluttering along the way, sucking, licking, pulling.
Every stroke is deliberate, a masterpiece in pleasure that’s leaving me breathless and weeping his name in the otherwise quiet room.
“Rafe.” The damn breaks, violent and beautiful.
I convulse against him. He thrusts two fingers inside me, crooking them upwards, right where he can work his magic.
He doesn’t stop, not even when my body sags from relief, or maybe it’s a bit of why it ended already.
Either way, Rafe holds me steady, even when he pulls away from my breast and pussy.
His hands move to my hips, absorbing the tremors, waiting me out until my breathing slows to shallow gasps.
“Christ, taste better than I imagined, Sera.” He lifts his head from between my legs and rests his chin on my thigh, dark hair disheveled, his lips wet and flushed from driving me wild.
He looks entirely undone, a stark contradiction to the billionaire who spends his day commanding and dictating behind a desk.
“I’m not sure I believe you.” I crook a finger, unable to move due to the muscle-weakening, earth-shattering orgasm he delivered.
A slow, wicked smirk graces his lips. It’s the kind of look that tells me he knows exactly how much power he holds over me, and that he has no intention of ever letting go.
Nevertheless, he rises to his full height, leaning over me, his palms caging me in on either side of my shoulders.
“Then you’ll have to taste yourself on my lips.
” Our bodies meld together when his lips meet mine and he presses a soft, lingering kiss to my lips that lets me taste myself.
It’s intimate yet somehow has my heart continuing to beat like a stampede of wild horses.
My tongue slides against his lips, and Rafe takes control.
A hand slips beneath my head, tilting me the way he wants to deepen the kiss, and he groans into my mouth.
“Rafe,” I breathe his name much like a prayer.
“Fuck, Sera. Not letting you out of my sight, woman. Need you, a lot more of you.” He lifts up, carefully pulling my skirt back down, smoothing the crumpled fabric with a gentleness that makes my chest ache.
“I think that can be arranged.” He offers me his hand. I take it, legs trembling as I slide off the table, attempting to stand upright. Thankfully, he’s there for me to lean against as I regain a semblance of balance. Rafe’s arm winds around my waist, holding me to his chest.
“Maybe next time, we do it in my office. I’ve got a lot more fantasies to play out when it comes to you on a flat surface.” He cups my jaw, tracing the apple of my cheek with his thumb.
“Is that so?” I tease.
“Yeah. Want you bent over it, want you spread out on it, and, fuck, I wouldn’t be upset if you rode the corner, getting yourself off while I watched.
” His possessiveness shines through. For weeks, we’ve been playing a game of chase, him with his strict professionalism, me with my flair to live in the moment.
“I think I can make that happen, Mr. Montero.”
“Christ, it’s going to be impossible to work,” he says with a low, genuine laugh, eyes softening as he looks down at me.
“That’s too bad, considering you have another meeting after lunch.” He grimaces at my response.
“I should have made you clear my calendar.” He brushes a kiss along the shell of my ear, then stands up to his full height, all six foot three, completely dominating my body with his presence. My breathing hitches. We’re standing so close, I can feel his cock pressing into my lower abdomen.
“Had I known when I woke up this morning, I’d have done that without you knowing.”
“Well, when you get back to your desk, make sure you do that for tomorrow. And you’re coming home with me after work.
Not done with you, not by a long shot.” He drops another kiss to my lips, then we both attempt to make sure we’re back to normal, or as normal as possible, before we head out of the conference room, down the hall, and back to the office.