“Chain.”
"Jesus, Lark..."
The way she said my name—breathless, filled with need—dug straight into my chest. She looked up at me, and whatever hesitation had been there before was gone, burned off by somethin' hotter, deeper. There was fire in her eyes now, wreckage too—but it was the kind of wreck that begged to be touched, not repaired.
"Touch me," she said, her voice stripped down to nothin' but need. "Show me how good it can feel."
I stepped closer, slow like molasses, lettin' the weight of each breath between us stretch long and tight until her back brushed the edge of the desk behind her. My hands came down on either side of her hips, palms flat on the cool wood, not cagin' her in, just lettin' her feel where I was—solid, steady, right there.
"With pleasure," I whispered, voice drawlin' low like thunder rollin' across open fields.
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Just waited, still as sin, like she trusted me to burn her just right.
So I leaned in and brushed my mouth over hers, slower this time, less heat and more intention. I kissed her like I was layin' bricks, buildin' somethin' real with every soft press of lips, every quiet exhale, every pause that said more than words ever could.
Her hands slid up my arms, fingers diggin' in just enough to let me know she needed more. I didn’t rush. Didn’t shove. I just held her there, kissed her like I was starvin' but takin' my time, learnin' the shape of her mouth.
Then her clothes started comin' off in pieces—slow, then a little faster, but never rough. I didn’t want to scare her with how bad I needed her, didn’t want her mistakin' urgency for somethin' darker. I just wanted her to feel everything.
She was all heat and soft skin under my hands, and I memorized every bit of her—from the way her breath hitched when I kissed the soft skin just beneath her collarbone, to the sweet gasp that escaped her lips when I dragged my palm down the length of her thigh and lifted her onto the desk.
"You sure?" I asked, my voice thick with want, thumb sweepin' slow over the jut of her hip. "You say the word, darlin’, I stop."
Her answer came in the form of a kiss—deep, shaky, full of tongue and ache and everything she hadn’t dared to say out loud.
But her body spoke louder.
The way she opened for me. The way her nails dug into my back. The way she moaned, low and wrecked, when I slid my fingers inside her—not rough, not to hurt—just deep enough to make sure she felt it. All of it.
She kissed me like she was done pretendin'. Like she didn’t give a damn if this destroyed her. And I kissed her right back like I had nothin' else to lose.
The office smelled like her now—like heat and skin and somethin' wild I didn’t have a name for. I had my hands on her thighs, draggin' her closer 'til she was perched on the edge of that desk, legs partin' like it was second nature.
I slid my palms up her stomach, fingers spread wide over ribs, thumbs barely grazin' the soft curve just beneath her breasts. Her back arched up into me, like her whole body hadbeen waitin' for this, like it knew what it needed and finally had it in reach.
"Fuck," I growled, starin' at her like she was somethin' holy. "You’re so damn beautiful."
Not pretty. Not cute.Beautifulin the kind of way that left me breathless—all grit and scars and strength wrapped up in somethin' delicate.
I dipped my head, mouth trailin' slow kisses along her neck, across her collarbone, down to the place just beneath her jaw that made her breath hitch and her fingers twist tighter into my shoulders. When I sucked there, teeth grazin' her skin just right, she let out this soft, broken moan that just about undid me.
"You feel that?" I murmured, voice hot against her throat. "That’s what you do to me, Lark. Every damn time you walk by. Every time you look at me."
She reached up, grabbed the back of my neck, and pulled me into a kiss that was all teeth and need and desperation.
"Fuck," I groaned, mouth trailin' down to her chest, my lips catchin' on her skin. "You’re already drippin' for me and I haven’t even put my hands on you properly yet."
She gasped when I caught her nipple between my teeth, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make her grind into my thigh.
"You want slow," I rasped, fingers teasin' over her slit, "or you want to feel what you do to me?"
Her voice was barely a whisper. "I want you."
That was all I needed.
Permission.
I dropped to my knees right there in that office, the one place I never let another woman inside, no matter what jealous whispers had tried to say. From this night on, this space was somethin' different. Sacred.
