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“Shut up and touch me, asshole.”

He rumbles out a laugh. “Since you asked so nicely.”

I close my eyes when he kisses me, not because I can’t look at him, not anymore, but because sometimes kissing Ezra feels like too much. The weight of his mouth is heavier than just a physical presence, it’s a consuming thing that I feel everywhere; it’s toomuch, kissing Ezra. Part of me thinks it always has been. Maybe that’s why I’ve always been so afraid of it.

But I’m not now.

His tongue slides against mine in a slow caress, his hands rucking up my skirt until it’s gathered at my waist with decidedly more urgency. He groans when his palms slide across the lace on my thighs, hovering there only for a moment before moving higher to hook his fingers into the elastic of my underwear.

“Sometimes I pretend you’re not wearing these under your skirt,” he says huskily, still nipping at my lower lip as he begins to inch them down. “I pretend that you’re always ready for me. That at any moment I could have you just like this. Fill your soft, wet cunt anytime I like.” My thighs clench when his fingers caress me there, proving that I’m just as wet as he’s describing. “Would you let me, Dani?”

“Fucking touch me and find out,” I practically growl.

Ezra just chuckles, still slipping his fingers between my legs in a lazy exploration. “But I am touching you.”

“You’re being purposely infuriating again.”

“It’s one of my favorite pastimes.”

I huff as I reach for the zipper of his slacks, deciding to takematters into my own hands. This is the twenty-first century, after all. If Ezra wants to be intolerable, that’s his prerogative. I’ll just take what I want myself.

“Someone’s eager,” he croons as I shove his fly apart.

I curl my other hand around his nape, pulling him close and smashing his lips to mine just after uttering a quiet “Shut up.”

His low moan tumbles into my mouth when I get my hands around his cock, giving him a slow stroke from root to tip, going at the same infuriatingly slow pace that he teased me with. My lips curl when he begins to try to fuck into my fist, pulling back as I squeeze him tight enough to make him hiss.

“Not so fun when you’re on the receiving end, is it?”

He chuffs out a strained laugh. “Fine. You win. Have your way with me.”

“God, I hate you,” I say with absolutely no bite.

He’s already leaning in to kiss me again. “Sure you do.”

I wrap my arms around his neck when hefinallysinks two fingers inside me, pumping them deep and curling them to stroke at my inner wall until I shudder with it. I’m dripping for him, and I know that there will be a mess at the edge of my desk that is going to deeply embarrass me later, but right now I can’t find it in me to care. Not when I can feel the slick crown of him rubbing against my inner thigh. And he’s right. Iwouldlet him bend me over my own desk. At this moment, I would let Ezra do whatever the fuck he wanted to me.

I press my knees to his hips, trying to draw him closer. “Enough with your fingers. Want the real thing.”

“Fuck, Dani. I really like you greedy.”

I don’t argue. It’s pointless. Iamgreedy for him.

His fingers are still wet from me when his hands hold myhips, his mouth open on mine as he notches against me. His harsh breath matches mine as he starts to push inside, and the delicious way he fills me, leaving no part of me untouched, is a sensation I’ve become wholly addicted to.

“Move,” I beg breathlessly. “Fuck me.”

I feel his palm between my breasts, pushing against my torso and urging me down to my back. He spreads me out over my notes and files, and there’s something about the idea of it that has my stomach twisting with desire. The picture we paint, both dressed and neat from the waist up but completely undone where our bodies are joined, has me clenching around him where he’s still buried inside.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, eyes raking down the length of me and settling between my legs. “You’re fucking edible, Dani.”

His hands curl under my thighs, pressing at the backs of them to push them higher toward my stomach, leaving me splayed out for him. He leans to press his lips to the lace of my thigh-highs, his eyes shuttering as he draws his hips back just to glide back inside. I bite my lip when he does it again, and I try to hold back my sounds for fear of Larry wandering too close to my office outside.

Ezra’s head lolls as he watches the way he’s begun to steadily thrust in and out of me, seeming enraptured at how we’re connected. If he didn’t look so in awe of it, I might be mortified by the way he’s gazing at me. As it is, it only makes me burn hotter.

“Tell me this pussy is mine,” he rasps, snapping his hips forward so hard that a sharp cry escapes me despite my efforts. “I want to hear it.”

“Ezra, fuck, I—”