Page 124 of Love By Design

“Get yourself ready for me,” I said. “Spread yourself open so I can watch.”

He cursed under his breath, bringing his heels onto the edge of the coffee table. He was bent like a W, his cock so hard he didn’t even need to lift himself out of the way for me to watch him spear two slick fingers into his ass. I poured lube into my own hand and stroked my dick until it shined under the living room light, my stare alternating between the indecent-looking stretch of Silas’s hole and the enraptured look on his face. He was bruised from back to front, cheeks wet with tears and spit, stomach smeared with precum. If I watched him carefully, I bet I could see him trembling from the want of it all.

“Silas, now.”

I bracketed my hand around the base of my cock and held it tall. Silas climbed onto my lap and sank down slowly until my entire length filled him up, and once we were fully joined, he settled his hands on my shoulders and started to move. He rode me tentatively at first, not wanting to go too deep or too hard, but the need to have him quickly became too overwhelming for me to let him go slow any longer.

With a rumbling growl, I looped my arm around his waist and pushed into a standing position. Silas cried out in shock, then laughed, and I brought him down to the coffee table on his back. Angling one of his legs straight into the air, I presseda sloppy kiss against the inside of his calf, then I fucked him the way we both knew he wanted to be fucked.

Silas shouted my name, coming almost immediately. Ribbons of white shot out of his cock, painting his chest, and I continued fucking into him with the same level of force until his balls were well and truly emptied, and then I fucked him even harder. Silas begged for more, whined for less, and I thrust into him harder and harder and harder each time. There was no way for me to get deep enough into him for my need to ever be sated, but I would surely die trying.

One final snap of my hips and the table gave way beneath our weight. Wood groaned and cracked, buckling under Silas’s back. We both fell straight through to the floor, but I couldn’t be bothered to care. My orgasm railed into me like a freight train, and I dug my nails into him with so much force he’d end up with ten more bruises whether that had been my intent or not.

Coming inside of Silas was like coming home, and I dropped my chin toward my chest to try and slow my breathing. Desperate breath after breath, my vision was still dark around the edges from the force of my orgasm. Silas’s knee hooked over my shoulder, but I was pressed so tight against him with the table all around us, I managed to steal a kiss. The taste of his spit and his sweat were enough to bring me back into the present, and I moved out of him slowly so I didn’t hurt either of us more than the fall already had. My knees were going to kill me.

Carefully, I pulled him out of the debris and onto my lap, trailing my fingers down his back to check him for splinters.

“Are you all right?” I asked. “Did that hurt?”

“I’m fine. I’m more than fine,” he murmured against my mouth, the words trying their hardest to turn into a kiss. “That’s my kind of celebration.”

I laughed, burying my face into the crook of his neck and smiling against his sweaty skin.

“Me too, sweetheart, but I’m nowhere near finished with you.”

Scooping Silas into my arms, I carried him down the hallway and tossed him on the bed. “In fact, I’m just getting started.”

CHAPTER 37

SILAS

Tuesday, I couldn’t sit down at work with Cory. Wednesday wasn’t much better, but by Thursday, I could manage a couple hours at a time before having to get up and stretch my legs to ease the ache of the bruises on the backs of my thighs and my ass. Marshall had done a number on me Monday night, and the worst part was, I’d deserved it and more. I’d lied to him, for no reason at all. Marshall had never done anything short of putting me above him in almost all things, and for me to worry he’d be mad about my work on a competing bid—in hindsight—was ludicrous.

He’d been particularly sweet the rest of the week, whispering very affectionate praise every morning when I tied his shoes, and even better kisses when I brought him his coffee. I’d been at his house the whole week, but I was looking forward to getting back to my apartment and my things on Friday night.

At least, for a little while.

We’d agreed I’d have my usual date with Lincoln, and he would have dinner with his brothers, all four of them, and then we’d meet up at Rapture. Lincoln would come if he wanted, but at the end of the night, we would go our separate ways.

When I pulled into the parking garage at work, my nerves about Cahuenga Pass were beginning to get the better of me. I truly believed Marshall didn’t care if he lost the bid or not, butIcared.

I cared.

And I found myself with no time to reconcile those feelings because when I walked into the office, Cory sat on the edge of a clean conference room table, bottle of champagne and two glasses to his right.

“Good morning,” I said, pushing open the door and joining him in the space that had become a second, or rather third home to me over the last week.

He smiled brightly and raised the champagne.

“It is,” he agreed.

The cork popped and champagne fizzed, and my heart somersaulted behind my sternum before sinking to the floor.

“Did you win it?” I rasped.

“I didn’t,” he said, pouring two flutes of champagne at eight-thirty in the morning. “You did.”

“I hardly?—”