14. Dominic #3
I move again, slow and deliberate. “Say my name, then.”
“Dominic.”
The nickname makes me want to provoke her. When she says Dominic, I pull her closer and kiss the side of her throat.
I turn her within my arms and lift her back onto the desk so I can see her face. She wraps her legs around me while I slide inside again. Papers shift behind her, and she knocks a pen to the carpet. Neither of us reaches for it.
“You’ve known all this time,” I say.
“I knew two facts.” She drags my mouth to hers. “The rest required current evidence.”
“And?”
“Your friends weren’t exaggerating.”
Pride, hot and immediate, floods through me.
I laugh against her lips. “Tell me what you want.”
Her hands close around my shoulders. “Harder.”
I grip her ass and give it to her. The desk hits the wall once, and we both freeze.
No footsteps follow.
“Maybe slightly less hard,” she says.
“That’s disappointing.”
“The desk cost eight thousand dollars.”
I kiss her and set a pace that keeps it against the wall. Elena holds on and meets every thrust, her breathing turning rough against my mouth.
I reach between us and press my thumb to her clit.
Her forehead meets mine. “Dominic.”
“That’s it. Let me hear you.”
Her nails dig into my shoulders. Her rhythm breaks, and she stops muffling the sounds leaving her.
“Come for me, Elena.”
She does with my name against my mouth.
Her pussy clenches around me while her legs lock behind my back. I keep moving through every pulse until I can’t hold back.
“Still want me inside you?”
“Yes.” She cups the back of my neck. “Come inside me.”
I bury myself deep, her name a rough breath leaving me as I come.
Elena holds me against her as my hips lose their rhythm. Afterward, her mouth is soft against mine and she doesn’t pull away.
I stay inside her until our breathing slows.
“Big D,” I say.
She groans, the sound vibrating through my chest, and drops her forehead to my shoulder. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I hate that you know.”
“You’re the one who told me.”
“By accident.”
“I’m still going to enjoy it.”
I kiss the corner of her mouth and ease out of her. “Stay there.”
“I’m capable of standing.”
“I know.”
I pull my trousers into place and bring her tissues from the credenza. She watches as I clean her carefully, making no practical argument. When I finish, I lower her skirt and retrieve a bottle of water from the small refrigerator in the corner.
She takes it. “Thank you.”
I sit beside her on the desk. Our shoulders touch.
“You sent Maya home, locked the door, and called me in here,” I say.
“We were discussing confidential information.”
“You’re going to be unbearable about this.”
“For at least a week.”
“Nothing about this was earned.”
“You’re right. You chose it.”
Her bottle stops halfway to her mouth, her eyes wide with a flicker of something I can’t name. Fear? Recognition?
I touch the inside of her wrist. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“Any pain?”
“No.” She sets the water beside her. “My desk may need counseling.”
“I’ll approve the expense.”
She laughs, then looks at the closed blinds. “The no-sex-at-work rule didn’t last long.”
“You wrote a bad rule.”
“You agreed to it.”
“And respected it until you ordered me into your office.”
“I did not order you.”
“You texted two words and expected me to come. It was an order.”
“You could have declined,” she says, but there’s no real heat in her voice.
“I could have.” I angle toward her. “I didn’t want to.”
She studies her bare knees and doesn’t answer.
“You still can’t say it,” I tell her.
“Say what?”
“I wanted you.”
“I moved confidential files, dismissed my assistant, locked the door, and kissed you first. I assumed you could interpret basic evidence.”
She lists the facts, building a case for a desire she still won’t name.
“I can.” I smile. “I just like the way your face gets when you’re forced to admit something. I want to hear you say it anyway.”
Elena slides off the desk and picks up the button from my shirt. “Your clothing is damaged.”
“Deflection.”
“Observation.” She puts the button in my palm.
I close my fingers around it. “You wanted me.”
She pulls her blouse into place and starts fastening the buttons. “The office is private after hours, we are sexually compatible, and natural conception was our agreed method as of yesterday.”
She attaches the choice to conception again.
I walk to her and fix the collar she folded beneath itself. “That’s a lot of words to avoid saying three.”
“You’re wearing half a shirt. I’m not taking criticism from you.” Her chin lifts, the familiar defense clicking into place.
I hear the defense and let it go tonight. She had asked without an excuse. And I had come because I wanted her. For tonight, that was enough.
We put the office back together. Elena straightens the reports. I move the desk away from the wall and retrieve the pen from the carpet. The acquisition model still fills her screen.
“We may need to revise the workplace provision,” she says.
“That won’t make the agreement accurate.”
Her hand stills on the laptop.
“No,” she says after a moment. “It won’t.”