"You can," she agrees without hesitation. The way she says it makes me ache. Christ, the way she lets me do whatever I want to her is so fucking addictive. I'll never get enough of it.
When we finally reach her office, I open the door and guide her inside. She steps in first, surveying the room like a queen inspecting her throne.
I close the door behind me, locking it.
The party noise fades to nothing, leaving just the two of us.
"You want to ruin me, don't you?" she teases.
"I always want to ruin you." It's nothing but the truth. Every moment of every day, I want her in my arms, falling apart on my cock, mine all the way to her soul.
She leans back against the desk, her expression feral. "Then come get me."
"I love you."
"I know," she says, smiling brightly.
"Arrogant."
She shrugs one bare shoulder. "You like it."
"Yeah," I admit, moving closer. "I really fucking do, princess."
She reaches for me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me down to her. Like always, her kiss is the only goddamn thing in the universe that matters.
"I want you to eat me alive," she whispers against my lips, her voice a dirty dare.
"Plan on it," I murmur, reaching into my pocket to pull out the small, flat box. It's wrapped in plain black paper, the kind Iknow she loves because she thinks it's more decadent than any diamond.
I press it into her palm.
"A present?" She raises an eyebrow, then tears off the paper and pops the box open with zero ceremony.
She laughs when she sees the lace panties nestled on a bed of tissue—the same panties I gagged her with back when she thought she hated me, and I knew she didn't. Back when I ruined her for the first time.
"You're unbelievable," she says.
I take the box from her hand and set it aside, smirking down at her. "Can't have you making too much noise, princess," I say, then ball the panties in my fist and stuff them in her mouth before she can say anything.
She moans, the sound lost in the lace. Her hands go to my shirt, dragging me in closer, then up under the fabric, her nails scoring my chest and shoulders. She always marks me like this, almost like she wants to remind herself that I'm real and I bleed, too.
I wear each scratch and bruise like a badge of honor.
I lift her by the hips, dropping her on top of her desk. She sprawls back, her legs spread, inviting and insolent all at once.
When I push her dress up her thighs, I find exactly what I always do—bare skin, no panties. She's already wet for me, her arousal coating her pussy and the inside of her thighs.
I spread her open with my thumbs, then slide two fingers inside her, curling them up. She bites down on the panties, her moan vibrating through her whole body.
I keep my eyes on her face as I fuck her with my fingers. Her eyelids flutter, her cheeks flushing as she grinds against my hand, desperate for more.
She doesn't beg. She knows she doesn't have to.
I pull my fingers out, popping them into my mouth to suck her taste from them.
She holds my gaze the whole time, moaning around her gag.
I flip her over on the desk and bend over her, nipping at the inside of her thigh, the curve of her waist, her perfect ass. I bite just hard enough to leave marks, because I want her to remember this every time she sees herself in the mirror. I want every inch of her marked with the proof that she's mine.
