Page 5

DECLAN

It’s Friday and I’m losing my goddamn mind.

Here I am, mid-afternoon in the fucking conference room, actively hallucinating about what it would feel like to shove my cock deep in my PA’s sweet, little pussy.

She’s wearing this soft blue blouse today, tucked into a skirt that rides just this side of acceptable for professional settings.

Every time she bends to pick up a paper or reaches for her phone, I have to dig my fingernails into my palms to keep from reaching for her.

She never breaks character, never lets the mask slip, but I see the way her pupils dilate, the flush under her skin when we lock eyes.

I see the way she avoids sitting directly next to me unless it’s necessary.

I see it all, and it makes me want to eat her alive.

She’s halfway through presenting a proposal to the IT team when Harris Smith, who has a wandering gaze, leans forward and lets his eyes drag all the way from her face to her hips and back. The fucker licks his lips. It’s not even subtle. It’s like he wants me to see him do it.

I have a fleeting fantasy of yanking Harris by his tie, hauling him across the conference table, and slamming his face into the neat stack of project reports.

I want to say something. I want to rip his tongue out and make him apologize to her on his knees, but I can’t, because that’s not how grown men behave in offices, and because she’s perfectly capable of handling it herself.

She does, too. She pivots toward him and hits him with this icy, polite smile that is all teeth. “Is there something you need clarified, Mr. Smith?” she asks, her tone so icy you can feel the temperature in the room drop several degrees.

Smith recoils, grunts something about line items, and stares into his coffee mug for the rest of the meeting. I catch her eye and she gives me a look like, “Handled, boss.” It’s smug, and she’s right, but it only makes me want her more.

She’s fucking magnificent. And I’m going to self-destruct if I don’t do something about it soon.

I let the meeting run another fifteen minutes, just to make everyone squirm, but mostly to see if Natalie will ever look at me again. She doesn’t. Not once. When the last agenda item is dead, I dismiss everyone, and Smith is the first to scuttle out.

Natalie stands to collect the folders. “Mr. McDaid, do you want a copy of the?—”

I don’t wait. I cross the room, close the door, and click the lock shut.

She freezes, folders tight against her chest. “Sir?” she breathes out. Her pulse is visible at the hollow of her throat, jumping with every beat.

I could play it off, act like there’s a “business matter” or some scheduling issue, but I’m done pretending. I’m sick of the cold, empty nights dreaming about her.

I move closer, crowding her against the conference table. She doesn’t back away, but her breathing turns shallow and fast, eyes locked on mine. There’s a moment of perfect, unbearable silence.

“Natalie,” I say, and my voice comes out like gravel. “Have you ever wanted something so bad you can’t sleep? Can’t think? Can barely keep it together long enough to do your goddamn job?”

She nods, a faint shiver coursing through her body, as if a cool breeze had swept over her. “Yes, sir,” she responds, her voice barely a whisper.

I gently take the folders from her hands, feeling the weight of the moment, and place them on the table with a deliberate motion. “Say it,” I urge, my gaze steady and unwavering.

She swallows hard, her throat working to form the words. “I want you, Mr. McDaid,” she confesses, her voice carrying a mixture of vulnerability and determination.

The sound she makes when I kiss her is something between a whimper and a growl. Her hands go straight for my hair, yanking me closer, and it’s so fierce I almost bite her lip.

There’s no softness here, no tentative exploration. It’s raw, primal, and fucking filthy. Our tongues clash, teeth scraping, and I can taste the days of pent-up hunger on her breath. She’s trembling, but it’s not from fear. It’s pure, unadulterated lust.

I back her up against the glass wall, the cool surface pressing into her back as I hoist her onto the edge of the table.

Her skirt rides up, and fuck me, her thighs are smooth, perfect, and begging for my touch.

I run my hand along the inside of one, my fingertips skimming higher, higher, until I feel the heat radiating from her pussy.

She’s already soaked, her slickness coating my fingers as I tease her.

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking drenched,” I growl, my voice low and rough.

She laughs, breathless and wild, and her hand cups my cock through my pants, squeezing hard enough to make my knees buckle. “You’re not exactly subtle either, sir,” she teases, her voice dripping with mischief.

“You drive me fucking insane,” I snarl, and I don’t waste another second.

I push her panties aside, my fingers sliding into her wetness with ease.

She gasps, biting her own lip to stifle a moan, but I don’t let her hold back.

I curl my fingers inside her, finding that sweet spot that makes her hips jerk and her breath hitch.

“Declan,” she breathes, and fuck, it’s the first time she’s said my name. It’s like a punch to the gut, and I almost lose it right there. My heart squeezes in my chest, something changing deep inside my soul, and I have the feeling I’ll never be the same again.

I pull back just enough to look her in the eye, my fingers still buried deep inside her. “Is this what you want?” I ask, my voice rough with need. I’m not going to take her like this unless she says it, out loud, where anyone could walk in and hear.

She nods, frantic, and grabs my wrist, pressing my fingers deeper. “Yes. Please. Don’t stop.”

I growl, actually fucking growl, and drop to my knees.

Her thighs part for me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The first taste of her is so fucking sweet I almost black out.

I bury my face between her legs, licking and sucking her clit while my fingers fuck her hard and deep.

She fists her hand in my hair and drags me closer.

She comes fast, loud, not even pretending to hold it in.

Her hips buck against my mouth, and she clamps down on my hand so tight I feel the pulse of her orgasm from wrist to shoulder.

The sound of it echoes in the glass-and-steel conference room, and if anyone is outside, they’ll hear every fucking second.

But I’m not done with her. Not even close.

I stand up, my cock straining against my pants, and I yank them down just enough to free myself. She’s still panting, her chest heaving, but her eyes are locked on mine, dark with hunger. I grab her hips and pull her to the edge of the table, lining myself up with her dripping pussy.

“You want more?” I ask, my voice a low growl.

“Yes,” she gasps, her nails digging into my arms. “Fuck me, Declan.”

I don’t need to be told twice. I thrust into her hard and fast, burying myself to the hilt in one smooth motion.

She cries out, her back arching as I start to move, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. Her pussy is so fucking tight, so wet, and I can feel her clenching around me with every stroke.

“You feel so fucking good,” I groan, my hands gripping her hips as I fuck her relentlessly. “So fucking tight.”

She moans, her head falling back as I pound into her, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. I can feel her getting close again, her body trembling as she clenches around me. I reach between us, my thumb finding her clit and rubbing it in tight circles.

“Come for me,” I growl, my voice rough with need. “Come on my cock.”

She does, screaming my name as she shatters around me. Her pussy clenches me so tight it almost hurts, and I can’t hold back anymore. I thrust into her one last time, deep and hard, and I come with a roar, filling her up as she rides out her own orgasm.

We collapse against each other, both of us panting and trembling. Her legs are still wrapped around me, and I can feel her heartbeat racing against my chest.

“Holy cow,” she breathes, her voice shaky. “That was… insane.”

I laugh, low and rough, and press a kiss to her forehead. “You’re fucking incredible,” I tell her, and I mean it.

But even as we catch our breath, I can feel the heat building between us again. One round isn’t going to be even close to enough.

For a minute, neither of us moves. The world is silent except for the sound of our breathing and the faint hum of the air conditioning.

Finally, she rolls onto her side and looks at me. Her glasses are crooked, her lipstick is smeared, and she’s never looked hotter. “That was unprofessional,” she says, deadpan.

I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth and laugh, sudden and loud. “Best meeting I’ve had in years,” I tell her.

She grins, then pushes up on shaky elbows and starts gathering her clothes. “Should we… talk about this?”

I shake my head. “Not yet,” I say. “Not until I’m sure I haven’t dreamed it.”

She buttons her blouse, fixes her hair, and gives me a long, searching look. “You’re not going to fire me, are you?”

I tuck myself back into my pants, zip up, and close the distance between us. “If I fired you, who else would keep me in line?”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “You’re a mess, Mr. McDaid.”

I lean in, kiss her one more time, softer now. “You have no idea, Ms. Hollister.”

She laughs, and the sound is sunlight after a long, black winter.

* * *

By five o’clock, the office is empty except for the cleaning crew. I sit at my desk, staring at the city skyline, feeling alive in a way I haven’t since before the Marines.

My phone buzzes and I glance down to find a message from Natalie.

Natalie

Same time Monday?

Me

Don’t be late. We’ve got a lot to catch up on.

She replies with a single thumbs-up emoji.

I shut off my computer, stretch, and let the anticipation pool in my belly. For the first time in years, I’m looking forward to Monday.

I think, maybe, this is what it means to be at war with your own fucking heart. And for once, I don’t care if I lose.