He doesn't tell me no. Honestly, I don't think he's capable of telling me no.
I unbutton his shirt, pushing the fabric aside so I can see the tattoos, the scars, the vulnerable places he never lets anyone but me touch. I trail kisses down his throat and chest, tasting salt and sweat.
He watches me with a hunger I've never seen before, like he's starving and I'm the only thing that'll satisfy his hunger.
I sink to my knees at his feet, undo his pants, and slowly take him in my mouth. He moans, the sound soft and broken. I keep my eyes locked with his, never letting him look away.
I want to ruin him the way he's ruined me. I want him to remember this, to know he's more than just a monster.
He grips my hair, but not to control—just to hold on. His hips lift, and I pull back, letting him see the spit and precum glistening on my lips.
"You're also so fucking beautiful when you're covered in me, Brielle," he groans.
I drag my tongue from the base of his cock to the tip, slow as sin, letting my lips linger until he groans again. I slide my palm along his thigh, feeling the muscle tremble, and then I take him back into my mouth, deeper than before. I want to taste him, to drown in him, to see if I can make him forget the entire world for just one fucking minute.
His hands tangle in my hair, but he doesn't try to guide me. For the first time, he surrenders, letting me set the pace, letting me do this for him. I flatten my tongue and take him all the way down, choking myself until my eyes water. The burn in my throat matches the ache in my chest.
His breathing goes ragged. I hear the moan before he stifles it, biting down on the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound that might echo down the glass hallway.
But I want to hear it. I want him as desperate and wild as he makes me.
I climb back onto his lap, adjust my skirt, and impale myself on his cock. I ride him slow, holding his face in my hands so he has to look at me.
He's perfect inside me. There are no other words—just the fullness, the stretch, the dizzying pressure where my body meets his. But it's the way he looks at me that does it. Like he's been starved for a thousand years, and I'm the only thing he wants.
Every time I sink down, his eyes burn, and his hands flex on my hips, but he doesn't force me. He lets me ride him, lets metake exactly what I want, even when I know every cell in him is begging to flip me over and fuck me through the desk.
"You're so beautiful," I whisper. It's not even a line. It's the brutal fucking truth. He is so goddamn beautiful.
He makes a sound—a soft, broken thing that's more animal than human. I grip the back of his chair and rock against him, slow and deep, savoring how perfectly we fit. How good this feels.
He tries to bite back his own pleasure, but every time I clench around him, he shudders, like he's barely holding on.
"God, you feel so good," I gasp, leaning forward until my lips are at his ear. "I want the whole office to hear us, Asher. I want them to know that I'm yours."
He snaps. There's no warning, just him wresting control away as he slams me down on him, every thrust brutal and perfect.
"Yes," I moan, not trying to be quiet. "Yes, Asher."
He spreads me wide, using my juices to soak his hand before he pushes two fingers inside my ass.
I clench around him, choking on his name.
"Say it again," he growls, adding a third finger, stretching me until I see stars. "Tell me whose good little slut you are, princess."
"Yours," I moan. "I'm your little slut."
He bites my shoulder, leaving marks, but he never looks away, not even when he wraps his hand around my throat, choking me.
He squeezes, hard enough to make black bloom at the edges of my vision, and then he fucks up into me, brutal and perfect. Every thrust slams me harder onto his lap, his cock buried so deep I can't even form words. Heat pulses through e. My lips are numb, my throat raw with the effort it takes just to take in a sliver of air around the pressure of his palm.
His other hand works my ass, stretching me. God, he's got his whole hand buried in me now, and the burn is so intense I nearly sob from it.
My body doesn't know where to focus, doesn't know which pain or pleasure to process first. I want to claw at his hand, to plead for oxygen, but I don't. I just take it, riding him even harder, desperate for the next jagged gasp of air.
"You like being fucked like this?" he growls, his lips right at my ear. "You like choking on my cock, on my hand, like you're nothing but a pretty little toy?"
I can't answer. I can't do anything but nod and whimper, my whole body shaking as he pounds into me, the slap of skin loud in the silence. Everyone out there could hear if they tried. If they cared.
