Page 3 of My Office Rival (Keep Your Enemy Closer #2)

CYNTHIA

J ason was fucking hot. Had someone asked me to imagine him in bed, I would have said that he was too robotic to have sex.

I could not have predicted this in a million years.

His eyes and his massive erection betrayed the fact that he was wild with lust, but he kept himself tightly leashed.

I could see his lean frame shuddering with need. How could I unleash him?

“Come here,” I demanded. His eyes went wide. Was I too much? Too needy, too demanding? One second, maybe two, then he moved. Satisfaction at his reactions filled me.

He pinned me to the bed with one large hand against my stomach.

The breath left my chest in an audible rush.

His movements were rough, desperate. He forced my legs apart, and I shuddered.

My body was humming with lust. It had been long, so long, since I had been with a man.

The long hours at the firm, plus my family obligations, meant I had little time to date and even less time to get to know someone well enough to have sex.

But my body clearly remembered what to do as Jason kissed his way down my stomach and then up my thigh to where he had spread my legs.

His exhale ghosted over my clit. Nerves and excitement flared under my skin .

I couldn’t handle this. His intensity, his hot breath on me, so at odds with his demeanor.

I hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected to need him like this.

This should have been boring, or annoying, especially since he was so difficult.

Maybe I would have preferred that. Instead, the need between us felt like a living thing, filling my lungs, making it hard to take a breath without also inhaling him .

“Do you want this? I have to ask.” He paused. “I like it rough. If it’s too much at any point, just tell me to stop.” He trailed a finger down my thigh as he waited for my agreement. His eyes were wild when they met mine. My legs trembled. My chest heaved.

And it was hot as fuck that he asked for permission.

“Yes, make me come.”

He jolted at my words and then licked me, swirling his tongue around my clit. I cried out. “Jason. That’s so good.”

He huffed a laugh against me and kept tonguing me, light swirls, then spearing into me. He spread my thighs even wider and sucked on my clit until I was practically sobbing with the need to come.

“More,” I begged. “I need you inside me.” He met my eyes and my body went taut at the lust I saw blazing in them.

“On your knees like a good girl,” he said roughly.

He flipped me and pressed me into the mattress.

The soft fabric abraded my oversensitive nipples, and I shivered at the contact.

His palms trailed down my back, smoothing over my ass, dipping back between my thighs.

Each caress was tender, sweet, until he gripped my hip with punishing fingers.

I heard the rip of a condom wrapper and then felt the press of his cock.

Thick, silky, warm. The pressure made me arch my back, until inch by delicious inch he seated himself.

I pushed back against his hips, the coarse hair on his legs rubbing against my thighs, and he exhaled a breath.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he groaned.

“Yes,” I hissed.

Those rough fingers on my hip pressed me forward and then dragged me back. He speared a hand into my hair, his fingers as rough on my scalp as they had been on my body. The slight pain sent sparks dancing over me.

“Too much?” he asked roughly .

“More,” I moaned. “More, more.” I needed him like I needed my next breath, and I wasn’t above begging.

He gripped my hip and pulled nearly all the way out before slamming home. I cried out and arched off the bed. “Fuck, yes! Like that.”

A choked sound fell from his lips. “I’m not sure I’ll last. This is too much. You feel really fucking good.”

Thank fuck. He feels it too. Some secret part of me thrilled at the connection. “I don’t care,” I bit out. I pressed back against him, desperate, and he stilled me with a hand on my low back.

“I’m in control of this, not you,” he said roughly. The words wound me tighter. Why was that so hot?

He set a punishing pace after that, driving into me, deep and rhythmic and just right on the edge of what I could handle.

He controlled my body with punishing hands and rough thrusts, and I loved it.

I was moaning, crying out, begging to come, but each time I got right to that precipice, he stilled.

How does he even know when I’m close? Most men couldn’t be bothered with anything except their own pleasure, but this man, he was absurdly in tune with my body.

“Please, Jason. Please. I’m so close.”

“Is that an order?” His tone was dark.

“Yes,” I cried. “Now.”

He shuddered and complied, stroking into me and circling my clit with one finger.

Again. Again. I cried out and came, the sweet sharp edge of my orgasm rushing through me until I was limp.

Only then did I feel him drive into me one final time and then let out a shout, coming hard, his helpless thrusts bucking against me.