“You love you,” she corrects breathlessly, but her fingers are already fumbling with my shirt, pushing it open to rake her nails over my scales. They flare gold at her touch, hypersensitive ridges that send sparks straight to my groin.
I love her. Gods, I love her—even when she’s impossible, especially then.
I catch her wrists before she can free me completely, pinning them to the desk on either side of her hips. She strains against my grip, testing, and the bond floods with her frustration and arousal in equal measure.
“Not yet, mate.” I lean in, dragging my tongue up the column of her throat, feeling her pulse thunder beneath my mouth. “You’ve been teasing me all morning. Now you wait.”
“Rynn—please—”
“Please what?” I release one wrist only to slide my hand down her body, cupping her breast through the thin undershirt, thumb circling her nipple until it’s a hard peak. She arches into me with a whimper.
“Touch me. Really touch me.”
“I’m touching you.” I pinch her nipple lightly, rolling it between my fingers until she gasps. “But I think you want more.”
“You know I do,” she pants, her free hand diving for my belt. I catch that wrist too, pinning both again.
“Tell me exactly.” My voice is rough, strained with the effort of holding back. “Tell me what you’ve been fantasizing about all day while you pretended to work.”
She licks her lips, eyes locked on mine, defiant even as her body trembles. “I want your fingers inside me. Your mouth on my clit. I want you to fuck me so hard this desk leaves bruises on my thighs. I want to feel you for hours—every time I shift in that meeting, every time I cross my legs, I want to remember exactly who I belong to.”
The words snap the last of my control.
“There’s my good girl,” I growl.
I release her wrists only to strip her with ruthless efficiency. Jacket gone. Undershirt ripped over her head. Bra shoved down just enough to free her breasts—full, perfect, nipples beggingfor my mouth. I take one between my lips, sucking hard while my hand works her trousers open, shoving them down her hips along with her underwear.
She’s breathtaking like this—half-undressed, flushed and panting, thighs already slick with how badly she wants me. I drop to my knees between her spread legs, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her arousal.
“Rynn—” It’s a plea now, all bravado gone.
I don’t make her wait any longer. My hands grip her thighs, spreading her wider, and I drag my tongue through her folds in one slow, deliberate lick. She cries out, hips bucking, and I pin her down, holding her open for my mouth.
She’s soaking, dripping onto the desk beneath her, and I feast like a starving man. Long, slow licks at first—savoring her taste, circling her clit until she’s writhing, then pulling back just enough to make her whine. I slide two fingers into her heat, curling them against that spot that makes her see stars, pumping slowly while my tongue flicks faster.
The bond is a wildfire—her pleasure crashing into mine, amplifying everything until I’m dizzy with it. I can feel how close she is already, how every stroke of my fingers winds her tighter.
“Come for me, Polly,” I murmur against her clit, the vibration making her sob. “Let me feel you fall apart on my tongue.”
She does—shattering with a broken cry, her walls clenching around my fingers, flooding my mouth with her release. I work her through it, drawing it out until she’s shaking, oversensitive, trying to push me away and pull me closer at the same time.
But I’m nowhere near done.
I stand, licking my lips clean of her, and she watches me with glazed eyes as I free myself from my trousers. My cock springs free, heavy and aching, the ridges along its length already flushed darker with need. A bead of precum glistens at the tip, and her gaze locks on it hungrily.
“See what you do to me?” I wrap my hand around myself, stroking once, twice, watching her thighs clench at the sight. “A year, and I still get this hard just smelling you. Just thinking about being inside you.”
“Then do it,” she breathes, reaching for me. “Fuck me, Rynn. I need—”
I sink into her in one slow, relentless thrust.
We both groan—the stretch, the perfect, wet heat of her taking every inch, the way her body yields and clenches like it was made for me. She wraps her legs high around my waist, heels digging into my back, pulling me deeper until I’m seated to the hilt and still not close enough.
Through the bond, everything doubles: the slick drag of her walls, the pulse of her pleasure, the way she feels utterly claimed and still wants more. I can feel the ghost of my own cock inside her, the ridges catching on every sensitive spot, driving her wild.
I start to move—long, deep strokes at first, savoring the way she gasps my name with every thrust. Then faster, harder, the desk rocking beneath us, datapads clattering to the floor. Her nails score my shoulders, my back, urging me on.
“Harder,” she demands, voice wrecked. “Make me feel it tomorrow.”
