“I was stupid,” I confess. “It just felt so good to feel something other than exhaustion from a race I’ve been running for so long. Whether you feel it or not, when you looked at me yesterday, I felt like the shape of who I am changed. I felt like maybe I was finally good enough for something other than an uphill battle.”
His hand lifts to my waist, hovering momentarily before landing with a firm hold. Everything inside me tightens in anticipation.
“You are good enough,” he says with a finality that allows no room for misinterpretation. “More than good enough.”
“Do you feel it?” I ask, the words a whisper as I brace for rejection.
His gaze darkens. “Yes.”
The room feels smaller. Hotter. The city outside fades into nothing as my world narrows to the man standing in front of me and the terrible certainty that nothing will ever be the same again.
“What is it?” I ask, expecting someone like him would know. He is power personified, must have experience in every facet of life.
He swallows. “I don’t know.” His hands have dropped to my hips slightly, his fingers working my skirt up in bunches in his fists. I don’t stop him. I couldn’t if I tried. He dips his head down, his mouth a breath from mine, then says, “But I know there’s no going back.”
Rurik
Her green eyes lock onto mine, wide and fierce, like she's daring me to cross the line we've both been skirting. My hands are on her hips, bunching her skirt higher, the fabric sliding up her thighs with ease that sends heat straight to my groin.
She doesn't pull away. Hell, she leans in, her breath mingling with mine, hot and ragged.
"No going back," she murmurs, more to herself than me, because this isn't just lust anymore; it's a goddamn avalanche, and we can’t stop it.
She grabs my tie, yanking me down to her level, her lips crashing into mine with a force that matches my own. It's a battle, tongues tangling, teeth grazing, her nails digging into my scalp as she pulls me closer.
I growl into her mouth, one hand sliding up her back to fist over the knot of her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. She tastes sweet and sharp, and I want to devour her whole. But she's not passive; her free hand shoves at my jacket, pushing it off my shoulders until it tightens around my arms. I let her, breaking the kiss just long enough to shrug out of it, my eyes never leaving hers. There's fire there, a challenge, and it mirrors the storm raging in me.
I spin us around, backing her against the window, my body pressing into hers so she feels every inch of how hard she makesme. She gasps with want, pure and raw. Her legs part slightly, inviting me between them, and I take it, grinding against her center through our clothes.
"Rurik," she breathes, her voice a mix of command and plea, and it snaps something inside me.
I hike her skirt up to her waist, exposing the lace of her panties, my fingers tracing the edge before dipping lower. She's soaked, the heat radiating through the thin fabric, and I rub her slowly, teasing, watching her face relax with pleasure. But she doesn't let me lead for long. Her hands are at my belt, unbuckling it with frantic precision, then unzipping my pants and shoving them down my hips.
My cock springs free, throbbing in the cool air of the office, and she wraps her hand around it, stroking firmly from base to tip. I hiss through my teeth, thrusting into her grip, but I won't let her have all the control. I hook my fingers into her panties and slide them down over her hips, exposing her fully.
She's glistening, ready, and I slide two fingers inside her without warning, curling them to hit that spot that makes her arch against the glass.
"Fuck," she gasps, her head falling back, but her hand doesn't stop pumping me, matching my rhythm stroke for stroke. We're both fighting for dominance, our bodies a tangle of push and pull, sweat beading on our skin as the tension builds.
I pull my fingers out, slick with her arousal, and bring them to her lips. She sucks them clean, her tongue swirling around them like she's tasting victory, and it's the hottest thing I've ever seen.
She releases me to unbutton her blouse, still sucking my fingers until she pulls the lacy cups down and exposes her breasts before squeezing them.
“Please,” she says.
I can't wait anymore. I grab her thighs, lifting her until she wraps her legs around my waist, guiding me to her entrance. I slide in deep, burying myself to the hilt in one swift motion. She cries out, her walls clenching around me like a vice, hot and wet and perfect. I pause for a heartbeat, letting us both adjust, but she's already rocking her hips, demanding more.
We move together, hard and fast, her hands holding onto my shoulders while mine clutch her ass. I pound into her, each thrust deeper than the last. She meets me halfway, grinding against me, her breaths coming in sharp gasps that sync with mine.
"Harder," she demands, her voice husky, and I oblige, slamming into her. The room fills with the sounds of our bodies slapping together, her moans mixing with my grunts, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.
I feel her tightening around me, her body trembling on the edge, and I reach between us, my thumb finding her clit and circling it relentlessly.
"Come for me," I order, but it's not just a command, it's a plea, because I'm right there with her, my control fraying. She shatters first, her orgasm ripping through her with a scream that echoes off the walls, her pussy pulsing around my cock in waves that drag me under. I follow seconds later, thrusting one last time before spilling inside her, the release hitting me like a freight train, white-hot and endless.
We sink to the floor, still joined, still pulsing with pleasure, the silence between louder than the city.
It presses in on me from all sides, heavy and irrevocable, like a verdict that’s already been delivered. My office no longer feels like a place of strategy or power. It feels… altered. Claimed in a way I didn’t authorize but can’t undo.
