Page 22

“Well,” I say lightly, though my voice trembles slightly at the edges, “they did. They stripped me. They humiliated me. They beat me.” My chest tightens as I force the words out. “And it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. So please—let me go.”

My hand falls free as his grip loosens, but I don’t stay. I step back, creating space between us as quickly as my legs allow. He steps closer, and before I can process what’s happening, his hand slides around the back of my neck and pulls me toward him.

My breath catches sharply in my throat, my body stiff against his. His mouth moves against mine with heated insistence, as though he’s been waiting for this moment, starving for it. The pressure of his kiss is dizzying—not soft, not patient. He’s devouring me, and my pulse hammers in my ears.

And then—just as quickly—he pulls back.

I stare up at him, heart pounding, lips tingling from the roughness of his kiss, and in that suspended moment, my mind fractures, dragging me backward into the memory I’ve tried so hard to bury.

The present blurs, melting into the past.

I see us again—alone in his room, the air thick with heat and want.

I’m sprawled beneath him on his bed, my skin flushed and bare, his weight deliciously heavy over me.

My chest rises and falls with shallow breaths as his hands roam over every inch of me, fingers splaying over my ribs, sliding up to cup my breasts.

My nipples are tight, achingly sensitive as his thumbs brush across them, and a whimper slips from my lips. My hips arch helplessly, grinding against the hard ridge of his cock pressing against my slick center.

“More,” I beg, my voice breathless, trembling with desperate need. “Please…more.”

His mouth captures mine, swallowing my plea, his kiss just as hungry as now, commanding, possessive. His tongue plunges into my mouth, claiming me like he owns me, like my body is his to take and use and ruin.

I feel the heat spiraling inside me as his hands travel lower, fingers slipping between my thighs, finding the wetness there that pulses for him. He groans into my mouth, voice dark and ragged.

“You're so fucking ready for me,” he growls, his breath hot against my cheek. “Beg for it again.”

I moan, words tumbling from me without shame. “Please…please, I need you inside me.” My voice breaks as I say it—raw, desperate, hungry.

His hand tightens on my hip, and he positions himself at my entrance, the swollen head of his cock nudging against my slick folds—

And then the memory shatters.

I’m back. Back in the present. Back in the hallway, staring up at him, lips still burning from the kiss he just stole.

His gaze searches mine—dark, intense—as if he knows exactly what memory just ignited in my head.

And my legs feel weak beneath me.

His eyes darken as he watches me, as though he can see my pulse pounding beneath my skin. Without warning, his hands seize my waist, and before I can catch my breath, he lifts me effortlessly, carrying me across the office toward the heavy desk.

His body crowds mine, the heat of him sinking into me, making me dizzy.

His hands cup my face, fingers rough against my cheeks as he leans in again.

This time, his kiss is slower, deeper, but no less demanding.

His lips seal over mine, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth, his tongue tasting me like he can’t get enough.

He tastes of cigarettes and alcohol—sharp, smoky, intoxicating.

The scent of him fills my head, thick and heady, and I close my eyes, inhaling deeply, surrendering to the press of his mouth.

I feel his breath hitch as my hands slide up his chest, fingertips tracing the hard lines of muscle beneath his dress shirt.

He breaks the kiss briefly, his gaze sweeping over me, hungry, almost predatory.

His hands drop to the straps of my dress, his fingers curling under the thin material and pulling them down, exposing my shoulders.

I swallow hard, my breath shivering as he tugs the dress lower, inch by inch, until it pools around my waist. The cool air kisses my bare skin, and goosebumps rise along my arms. His hands find the clasp of my bra next, deft fingers releasing it with practiced ease.

The straps slide down my arms, and the cups fall away, baring my breasts to him completely.

His eyes flash with something primal, his breath deepening. “Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, as though seeing me like this strips away whatever control he was clinging to.

I gasp as his mouth descends, hot and hungry. His lips close over my nipple, sucking it into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the sensitive peak, making me arch my back and press into him. A moan escapes me, unbidden, as his hand cups my other breast, thumb circling the aching bud.

“God—” I whimper, clutching his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt.

He switches sides, giving my other nipple the same attention—wet, warm, insistent—his stubble scraping gently against my skin, making me squirm beneath him. I can feel the wet heat gathering between my legs, my thighs instinctively pressing together for relief.

Still kissing, sucking, biting softly at my breasts, he works one hand down between us and shoves the dress further up around my hips, exposing my panties. His touch is rough, purposeful.

Finally, he pulls back, his breath ragged, chest rising and falling sharply as his eyes meet mine. Without breaking eye contact, he reaches for his own shirt, yanking it up over his head and tossing it aside. The muscles of his chest ripple beneath the dim office light, his skin flushed with heat.

His belt is next—his fingers make quick work of it, then his zipper, the metallic sound loud in the heavy silence. He shoves his pants and briefs down in one motion, releasing his thick length, already hard, veined, and heavy.

My breath catches, lips parting as I stare for a moment, my body pulsing with a mixture of anticipation and raw need.

My breath shakes as I reach between us, wrapping my fingers around his thick cock. His skin is hot and smooth under my touch, the weight of him heavy in my palm. I stroke him at first, my thumb brushing over the slick bead of moisture at the tip.

A deep groan rumbles from his chest, low and guttural, as his hips twitch forward, chasing the friction.

I feel his muscles tense beneath my fingertips as I stroke him a little harder, watching the way his jaw clenches, how his breathing grows heavier with every movement of my hand. His eyes flicker down to where my fingers glide along his length, and there’s something raw, almost feral in his gaze.

When I finally can’t take it any longer, I guide him toward me, positioning him at my entrance. My core pulses, already dripping and desperate for him. He slides the head of his cock against my slick folds, teasing me for just a moment before pressing forward.

The thick crown stretches me as he pushes inside, inch by inch. The pressure is intense—my walls straining to accommodate him—and a sharp gasp escapes my lips. His groan mingles with mine, both of us breathless at the tight fit.

“Jesus,” he growls, gripping my hips tighter. “So fucking tight.”

I clutch at his shoulders, my nails biting into his skin as he finally sinks all the way inside, filling me completely. My body shudders, stretched and aching in the most delicious way.

He pauses for a moment, his chest heaving, giving me a second to adjust, but the hunger burning in his eyes tells me he’s barely holding back.

Then he moves.

He pulls out slowly, almost to the tip, before thrusting back into me in one deep, claiming stroke. My head falls back, a moan ripping from my throat as the desk creaks beneath us.

His mouth crashes onto mine, devouring me with hot, open-mouthed kisses as he sets a steady rhythm—hard, deep thrusts that make my toes curl.

One hand holds my waist, steadying me with every powerful stroke, while the other slides up to cup my breast, squeezing it roughly, his thumb flicking over my nipple.

The sensation sends sparks through me—his cock filling me over and over, his mouth stealing my breath, his hand kneading my breast with delicious pressure. I whimper into his mouth, completely lost to him, my body trembling under his control.

“Fuck—” he pants against my lips, his voice shaking. “You feel so goddamn perfect.”

He pulls back from my lips, eyes burning as his thrusts slow for a moment. His breath is ragged, chest heaving, sweat glistening along his brow.

“Down,” he growls, voice low, rough, thick with desire.

Before I can even respond, his hands slide under my thighs, lifting me off the desk effortlessly. My legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he carries me a few steps to the open floor, lowering me gently onto the cool hardwood.

The air leaves my lungs in a breathless gasp as my back touches the ground, but before I can adjust, he’s already guiding me, turning me over onto my stomach.

“I want to feel you from behind.”

I obey, my breath shaking, heart pounding in my chest. My hands press to the floor, my back arching as I lift my hips for him, completely exposed. I feel his hands slide along my waist, thumbs digging into my skin as he positions me exactly where he wants me.

“Perfect,” he growls, his voice thick with hunger.

The head of his cock presses against my entrance again, and I shiver, biting my lip as he pushes back inside. The stretch feels even deeper like this, his thick length sliding in with a slick, aching resistance that makes both of us moan.

He draws his hips back and thrusts forward sharply, filling me again in one hard, deep stroke. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the office, mixing with the wet sounds of our bodies, the desk still creaking softly behind us.

He picks up the pace—harder, deeper—his hips slamming into me as his grip on my waist tightens, anchoring me to him as he drives in again and again. My moans turn breathless, broken, the rhythm of his pounding leaving me dizzy and trembling.

“Yes,” I whimper, barely able to breathe. “Oh my God—yes—don’t stop.”

He groans in response, slamming into me even harder, his cock driving so deep I swear I can feel him everywhere—the pressure, the fullness, the sheer overwhelming pleasure spiraling inside me.

The air is thick with our panting, the raw sounds of skin on skin, and the wet, messy slaps of his body driving into mine, faster and deeper with every stroke.

“Fucking perfect,” he growls again, his voice breaking into a groan as his pace grows almost frantic, like he’s barely holding himself together anymore.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, wet, filthy, beautiful. His breathing grows heavier, rougher behind me. I can hear him losing control, feel the way his rhythm starts to falter—deeper now, harder, like he’s chasing that last impossible inch inside me.

“Fuck—” he growls, voice hoarse, strangled. “You’re so fucking perfect—so tight—I can’t—”

And then I feel it.

The sudden hot flood of him spilling inside me. Thick, warm, pulsing deep as his cock throbs and empties, filling me completely.

The sensation rips through me like lightning.

My orgasm crashes into me so hard I sob—my back arching, thighs trembling violently as my pussy clenches around him, milking every drop.

“Ah—ahh—oh God!” I cry out, voice breaking as the waves of pleasure consume me, each pulse stronger than the last, my entire body shaking under him.

He groans against my ear, holding me tight, his hands gripping my waist as though anchoring himself while my body convulses around him. His cock stays buried deep, twitching inside me as my release coats him, blending with his warmth.

The sounds of our panting fill the air, his chest heaving behind me as his thrusts finally grind deep inside, like he never wants to leave my body.

The aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through my core as I sag against the floor, completely undone in his hands.