Chapter Six
Stone
Seraphina's text should reassure me, but it doesn't. I'm worried out of my fucking mind that I hurt her, or that she's already having second thoughts about the two of us.
I pushed too far today, asked for too much too soon. She barely had time to wrap her mind around the fact that I had feelings for her before I had her on top of her desk, fucking her raw. And then she had no time to process what we'd just done before Hector walked in.
If our roles were reversed, I'd have panicked, too.
I'm nervous as hell on the drive to her place.
She may very well kick my ass out of there and refuse to ever come back to work.
It's going to kill me if that's her choice.
I need her in my life. I've come to that conclusion every damn day for the last six months.
Finally realizing that maybe, just maybe, I had a shot of making it a reality instead of a pipe dream felt like winning the lottery.
If I fucked it up already, I won't recover.
I pull into her driveway with my heart in my throat. My steps are heavy as I jog to her door, praying she doesn't slam it in my face and tell me to fuck all the way off.
My fist thumps against the heavy oak. I don't think I breathe, not even when I hear her moving around on the other side of the door.
"Angel," I rasp…the only word I can say when she pulls it open. Her hair is dripping wet, her body wrapped in a fluffy blue robe, and nothing else. She looks even more edible than she did two hours ago, sprawled on her desk and whimpering my name.
"I'm sorry!" she cries, flinging herself against my chest hard enough to knock me back a step.
My arms immediately surround her, pulling her up against my body. I bury my face in her damp hair with a groan, stumbling inside her place. I nudge the door closed with my foot.
I see glimpses of bright colors and soft fabrics from the corner of my eye, but all of my attention is on her.
"I didn't mean to run off, Stone," she says, her voice muffled where she's got her face pressed against my throat. "I panicked."
"Hey. Hey." I cup her cheeks, tilting her head back until her eyes meet mine. "You don't owe me an apology, Seraphina."
"I feel like a jerk," she mumbles.
"So do I."
"What?" She blinks like the thought is shocking. "Why?"
"I didn't even give you time to process the thought of us before I was all over you," I growl. "You needed me to go slow, and I just charged ahead, desperate to get you on the same page."
"Stone," she whispers, her expression softening. "We didn't do anything I didn't want."
I press my forehead to hers, breathing her in. "Are you okay, angel? Did I hurt you?"
"Yes. I mean, no. God no, you didn't hurt me," she promises. "I just…" She stops, huffing out an adorable breath. "Yesterday, I was fantasizing about strangling you with the lanyard for your whistle. And now, everything is different. I'm trying to process. That's all."
I meet her gaze again, needing her to see me when I say what I have to say.
"Not everything is different, Seraphina," I murmur.
"I've been fucking wild about you since you came to work as my assistant.
The university has a policy that made it impossible for us to date without risking our jobs, and I wasn't going to be the prick who got you fired, so I didn't make a move.
Instead, I slowly lost my fucking mind every day.
I figured it was my cross to bear because you didn't feel the same. And then…"
"And then things changed," she whispers.
"Yeah." I nod. "Things changed. I saw that goddamn game board and realized that I wasn't the only one feeling things." My lips curve in a rueful grimace. "I saw that little bastard's name on your paper and I just…snapped."
"He's made up, Stone." Her cheeks turn pink. "You were the only one I could think about when I was writing names down, so I just made up the rest."
"Jesus." I kiss her hard on the mouth, my heart thumping wildly. She told me that already, but I like knowing she actually meant it and wasn't just trying to get me off her back.
"What did Hector say?" she whispers when I let her up for air.
"Nothing," I murmur. "He was there about a schedule change."
"Oh." She squirms in my arms. "I guess that's good. I was worried…"
Fuck.
"Full disclosure, but technically, I'm still your boss right now," I murmur. "As far as Hector and I are concerned, he's your boss now. But until the Chancellor approves the reclassification of your position, as far as the university is concerned, I'm still your direct supervisor."
Her face pales slightly. "W-what does that mean?"
"It means…" I sigh. "It means if you want to kick me out of here right now, I won't blame you, angel. You have every right. I won't try to change your mind. I won't ask you for more than you're willing to give."
She considers this for a moment and then cocks her head to the side. "And what if you weren't my direct supervisor right now?" she finally asks. "How would that change things?"
"Right now?" I ask, and then wait for her to nod before I sink my hands into her hips.
"Then I'd fucking beg on my hands and knees for you to let me stay.
I'd ask you to let me take care of you tonight, the way I've wanted to do since you walked into my office for the first time.
" I exhale a shuddering breath. "And I'd be inside you again, over and over, until you forget your own name. "
She whimpers—the sweetest little sound—and then her arms wrap around my neck, anchoring her to me. "Can we…?"
"What?" I growl, my fingers digging into her hips.
"Can we pretend you aren't still my supervisor?" she breathes. "Just for tonight?"
For the second time today, I just…fucking snap.
Within seconds, she's pressed against the door, her legs around my waist. I yank at the belt of her robe, attacking her throat with little kisses and bites that have her mewling and rocking her hips against me.
"Gotta make you smell like me again," I snarl against her skin, pinching one hard nipple between my fingers.
She cries out, her head thumping against the door.
I pull back to look at her, watching the way her skin flushes all the way down her chest, seeing how fucking soft and sweet she is beneath that robe.
Christ Almighty. I'm never going to be able to keep my hands off her, not when I know she looks like this beneath those adorable little dresses she loves to torture me with.
I slip my hand between her legs, growling when I find her soaked for me already.
"Stone!" she shouts, arching up.
"You want me again, angel?" I ask, fucking her hard and fast with two fingers. "You want to come all over me?"
"Yes! Please, please," she sobs, choking on the words.
She's already so sensitive, so desperate, that it takes almost nothing to have her on the edge, her eyes glossy and unfocused, her mouth working soundlessly.
I haul her closer, grinding my cock into the heat of her thigh as I fuck her with my fingers.
With my other hand, I fumble my fly open, not caring how needy I look.
I want her to see it. I want her to know exactly what she does to me.
My cock springs free, hard and angry and leaking for her, the tip painting pre-cum across my knuckles as I stroke it.
She looks down, sees what I'm doing to myself, what I'm about to do to her, and whimpers. The sound is pure surrender.
"Look at me," I rasp. "Look at the way I want you. You see this?"
She nods, her entire body a trembling mess.
"This is what you do to me, Seraphina. This is what I am for you." I line myself up, hauling her hips forward until the head of my cock is at her entrance, and then I slam her down on me in one rough, perfect thrust.
She screams, her whole body going rigid as I fill her to the fucking hilt, her walls squeezing so tight around me I lose my mind for a second.
"Stone!" she sobs, the sound echoing in the little entryway, her hands fisted in my hair.
"That's right, angel," I snarl, fucking up into her, not caring if I leave bruises on her hips from how hard I'm holding her. "This is what you need, isn't it? My cock. My hands. My mouth."
She just whimpers, her head lolling back against the door.
I pound into her, relentless. The only thing she can do is hang on and take it.
Everything out there—work, rules, all the reasons we shouldn't—melts away until there's only the drag of her nail down my neck, the bruises I'm stamping on her hips, and the perfect way her pussy chokes my cock.
"Stone," she whimpers, a broken, desperate sound.
"That's right, angel, say my name. Beg for it." I slam her harder against the door, loving the way she gives me everything, loving the flushed, wild look in her eyes. "You know what I think about every time you look at me? Every time you stutter or stumble or blush?"
She shakes her head, barely hanging on.
"I think about this," I growl against her ear.
"I think about your sweet pussy squeezing around me, about making you beg for it.
I think about bending you over every surface in my office until you can't walk straight.
I think about tying you up with your own goddamn pantyhose and making you scream my name so loud everyone hears you.
" I nip her throat, driving her down on me. "So loud they all know you're mine."
She shatters, her voice breaking on my name. Her pussy clamps down on my cock in a hot, rippling vise. The sound she makes is nothing short of worship, a desperate, keening wail that seems to burn in my chest and light up every place inside me.
I lose it.
I slam her down on me with a roar, coming so hard I can't breathe. My head drops to her shoulder as I empty myself inside her, my legs shaking.
The world narrows to this—her smell, her heat, the urgent press of her nails in my neck. It's still not enough for me.
I hold her, fucking her through her orgasm, refusing to let her go until she's wrung out and boneless in my arms.
"Stone," she whimpers as she finally goes limp in my arms. "Stone."
We stay locked together in the entryway, her body trembling against me, my hands splayed over her hips, holding her in place like the whole universe might fall apart if I let her go.
I think maybe it might.
That's how badly I need her.
That's how completely she has me.