Common sense suggested that Carol take it slow. They were in her place of work and had known each other all of a few moments. The fire in her body might be temporary.
In the end, that was her rationale, that she might not have a chance to climb a hot troll if she didn’t take it now, and the appetite she’d had for cookies earlier wasnothingto the hunger she had now.
They crashed together in a second kiss that left the first one in ashes.
This time there was no denying the magical energy that swirled between them as they kissed. The cubicle lit up as Carol’s arms slid up around his neck and he bent to wrap her into his embrace.
It was like she was literally on fire, her skin crackling as she soaked up his sexual energy. He kissed and kissed her, his teeth scraping her eager tongue, her lips against his ivory tusks. He was musky and masculine and Carol could not get close enough to him.
“Whatisthis?” she asked, when she finally pried herself away, both of them panting for breath.
“I think you’re a succubus,” Keenan said in wonder. “Look at you!”
Her skin was glowing, and as he stroked her arm with one of those big, gentle hands, Carol could feel the energy in her rising to a fever pitch. Little tendrils of light chased his touch.
She tamped down the overwhelming hunger and pulled back. “Am I making this happen?” she asked in dismay. “Am I controlling you? I don’t want to--”
Keenan caught her face effortlessly in his fingers. “I’m controlling myself,” he growled at her. “But barely. You may be feeding on our connection, but this attraction isentirelymine.” He leaned close, his breath a tickle on her face as he spoke. “If you don’t want me to fuck you, right here, say so now.”
“I want--”
What did she want? To be taken spread-eagle on the cubicle floor with the distant sounds of an office party? To see if his cockcompared with his handspan? To taste his toothy kisses again? Carol was still glowing, drinking in the intoxication of his hunger and her own. This was new ground for her.
“Office r-romance never w-works,” she stuttered.
“I’m freelance,” Keenan countered. “And fuck this job. They couldn’t even get me a decent chair. I had to steal one from some hot programmer…”
4
KEENAN
It took all of Keenan’s self control not to maul Carol on the spot and rip her clothing right off of her. His lust for her was like nothing he had ever felt. And to his astonishment, she seemed every bit as attracted to him. It wasn’t just that she wasn’t afraid of him, she was actuallyintohim, and she didn’t flinch at his kiss or hesitate to touch his rough skin. She was the one tugging at his shirt, dragging them onto the desk as she wrapped one leg up around him.
There was no way that she could doubt his interest, rubbing against his swollen cock.
The desk gave an ominous creak as he planted one hand on it and used the other to grab her by the waist and pull her closer. Keenan caught her up as the poorly-attached work surface threatened to pull away from the cubicle walls and collapse.
He pivoted to set her down in the chair, which fit her like a throne, but left no room for any of the things he wanted to do to her. He pulled her right up again to press her up against one of the cubicle walls and a OSHA poster behind her about hygiene crumpled as a thumbtack pulled out.
It was clear that the cubicle was not going to be a comfortable place for this.
“There’s a break room,” Carol gasped.
“Does the door lock?” Keenan asked hopefully. A counter was more likely to be sturdy enough than a desk.
“No.” Carol grinned at him. “But it has a couch.”
Keenan growled and bent just far enough that he could scoop Carol up into his arms.
She sucked her breath in sharply. “Are you…sure you can…?”
She was no lightweight, but she was barely a burden to Keenan, and for once, he was grateful for his size and strength, because cradling her in his arms was more than just sexy—and it was plenty sexy! It was like bringing her home.
She belonged in his arms, and it wasn’t just the undeniable attraction he felt for her, or even the appealing curves of her. It was like he’d just stepped into a childhood home full of festive holiday smells and sounds, like she was the most comfortable, perfect, natural match for him. She was cinnamon and warm cookies, spruce bough wreaths and chiming Christmas bells. It was like drinking spiced cider to kiss her.
He started to carry her out, turning the wrong direction at first, and she giggled and directed him through the maze of cubicles for the break room in the middle of the building.
The raucous sounds of the Christmas party were louder here, closer to the conference rooms where more traditional celebration was happening, but the noise went away completely when Keenan pulled the door shut behind them.
