Page 31 of Johan. (Van Den Bosch #8)

We move together, finding a rhythm in our movements, our breaths coming in short, heated bursts that echo in the quiet room.

Hannah's lips trail down my jawline, each kiss sending shivers through me like ripples in water.

I tilt my head back slightly, giving her more access as she nips gently at my neck, her touch both electrifying and tender.

“Hannah, not here,” I finally manage to say, pulling away reluctantly. “The last thing we need is to be caught here again.”

“The room is locked, though.” Her voice is a soft murmur, filled with desire, as she pushes me gently towards the desk. I stumble back a step, finding myself leaning against the solid wood, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of the moment.

“What if they start wondering where we are?” I try to bring some much-needed rational sense into this, though my voice wavers with the conflict of wanting her and knowing the risks. Hannah’s warm body pressed against mine makes it even harder to think clearly.

“Just five more minutes,” she whispers against my ear, her breath warm and inviting. The plea in her voice is impossible to resist, and for a moment, the world outside this room fades away, leaving just the two of us suspended in time.

Turning my face towards hers, I grab her chin between my thumb and forefinger, kissing her hotly, “Five minutes, eh? Should I be offended? Surely, by now, you know I can last much...much longer than that.”

Hannah's cheeks flush a pretty shade of red, and there’s a knowing look in her eyes as her hands travel down my chest. “Of course. But I have an idea for something a little quicker.”

To my disbelief, Hannah sinks to the floor gracefully, her beautiful gown pooling around her as she does so.

My mouth hangs open in excited shock as she reaches for my belt, unbuckling it with her nimble fingers before making quick work of the fly of my pants.

The mere thought of what she's about to do threatens to make my eyes roll into the back of my head.

“At this point, I'm convinced the danger of getting caught turns you on,” I tease, looking down to watch as she slowly frees me from the confines of my boxer briefs.

Her mouth touches my bare skin, just a gentle whisper of a kiss as she nips and licks the skin just above where her hand is holding the base of my thick shaft. “Clever man. Maybe you can use that to your advantage in the future. For now, just let me work.”

I should argue. I want to argue.

But when the tip of my cock brushes against her plush lower lip, all my resistance melts away.

Her tongue swipes across my slit, tasting me for just a moment before she begins to lean forward.

And though I know what’s coming, the moment I feel the wet heat of her mouth engulfing my swollen head, there’s a hitch in my breath, a fluttering in my chest, and the dam bursts.

Hot blood pounds in my ears, my breaths come in harsh pants, and, oh God, she’s still staring up at me, her lashes low over her eyes, the top of her dress gaping open now to reveal bare flesh, the low candlelight flickering shadows across the tops of her breasts.

This feels so wrong and right at the same time.

Hannah puts both hands on my ass, squeezing firmly as she forces herself down my length, my very vocal appreciation of what she's doing coming out as garbled words of gratitude.

With one hand on the edge of the desk and the other fisted in her hair, I hold on for dear life and give in to every feeling surging through my body.

She knows exactly how to suck me, to use her hands, her mouth, her tongue, how much pressure, and when to pull away.

She's relentless, and I watch for a while before forcing myself to close my eyes.

We don't have long, and this is already almost too much.

I don't want to blow it too soon—I want her to feel everything I'm feeling.

But Hannah refuses to let me fall behind.

As she draws me in even deeper, until I feel the head of my cock nudge her throat, she brings one hand around to my base, gripping and pumping just enough that I know she wants me to take over. Giving up the last of my protest, I tighten my fingers in her hair and thrust into her grasp.

I groan from the pleasure and the effort to keep silent, swallowing over and over as I concentrate on holding out as long as I can.

“Not going to last if you keep doing that,” I warn her, fisting her hair more firmly.

Hannah redoubles her efforts, letting me know that she has no intention of dragging this out.

She wants me to come for her, fast. The wet sound of her mouth and the wicked gleam in her eyes just make it harder to hold out against her.

My groin tightens, and the tension only grows until I force the whispered words out, “Fuck, Hannah.” It feels as though I'm on the brink of insanity. There is no logic here. No sanity. My body takes over completely as she swallows me over and over. “Yes, baby, yes.”

Hands tight on my ass, her grip on my hips, and the sight of her kneeling before me is far too much, and with a muffled groan, I release in her mouth, Hannah drinking me down as I come apart completely.

Opening my eyes, we share a look, a laugh bubbling up from my chest. My head tips back with a shake, and I gasp out my euphoria, reveling in this moment that I'll never forget.

It takes a moment for the daze to clear, but when it does, I allow the embarrassment over my quick finish to filter in. Leaning down, I collect Hannah from the floor, her gown soft in my hands as I gently help her to her feet.

After our passionate moment together, Hannah leads us to the petit salon where everyone is gathering.

I start to follow but quickly stop in my tracks, noticing three missed calls and a text message from Astrid.

Guilt twists in my stomach; I’ve ignored her almost all week at Conrad’s and didn’t call her on Christmas Eve either.

The last thing I need is her wrath before I get to go to Oman.

Quickly excusing myself, I search for a quiet place away from prying ears. Finding solace in the living room, far from the petit salon, I stand by the large windows and dial Astrid's number. The phone rings a few times before she picks up, her voice cheerful and warm.

“Merry Christmas, Johan!” she says brightly. Her tone is light, filled with the joy of the season.

“Merry Christmas, Astrid,” I reply, trying to match her cheerfulness. “How's everything going over there?”

“It's beautiful here,” she gushes. “The Maldives are absolutely stunning. We've been snorkeling, lounging on the beach, and just soaking up the sun. How about you? How are things with your parents?”

I hesitate for a moment, glancing around the unfamiliar living room. “It's good. Just the usual family gatherings, you know.”

“That sounds nice,” she says, a hint of longing in her voice. "I wish we could have spent Christmas together. I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” I say, feeling the weight of my words. “We'll make up for it when you get back.”

“We better,” she teases lightly. “Alright, I'll let you get back to your family. Merry Christmas, Johan.”

“Merry Christmas, Astrid,” I reply, hanging up the phone.

Turning around, and to my shock, I see Elise standing in the center of the room, having just picked up her clutch from the sofa. Her eyes lock onto mine, and I can tell she overheard at least part of my conversation. Embarrassment floods through me, and I clear my throat, trying to remain composed.

“Just making a few phone calls to family. I'll join you all soon,” I say, attempting to sound casual.

Elise doesn't move. She stands there, her expression shifting from curiosity to something more intense. Her eyes narrow slightly, and she crosses her arms defensively. After a moment of hesitation, she blurts out, “What are you trying to achieve by coming here?”

I frown, genuinely confused by her question. “What do you mean?”

“A good friend? Really?” Her voice drips with sarcasm as she arches an eyebrow. “Why did you come here? Why aren’t you with your fiancée spending Christmas?”

I heave a long sigh at her question. “It’s complicated, Elise. And with all due respect, none of your business.”

But I should know Elise better, and instead of leaving, she takes a step closer, her posture rigid and confrontational. “Right. Don't try using my sister to hurt me.”

My eyes widen in shock. “What? To hurt you?” I step back, shaking my head in disbelief. “I like your sister. A lot. But it has nothing to do with you.”

Elise’s eyes narrow further, skepticism evident in her gaze. Her lips press into a thin line. “If you say so.”

I shake my head, my patience wearing thin. “I mean it, Elise.”

Finally, she turns to leave, her self-centered behavior a stark contrast to Hannah’s warm and genuine nature. I watch her go, a mix of relief and irritation settling over me. Taking a deep breath, I ready myself to rejoin the others in the petit salon.