I'm close to climax,
rapture flicking my veins with the countdown.
My palms brace against the desk,
and I drop my head back,
arching into his hand.
“That’s it, baby,” he croons, stepping in close.
“Nice and slow now.”
I want to throw up.
I want to vanish.
I want to shove him through the window
and watch him fall forty floors.
But all my body wants is to fucking come.
It’s moving without me,
breath jagged,
thighs trembling,
begging for a release I don’t want to need.
The pressure builds.
Second by second.
Kneading deep.
Dangerous.
Dragging me closer.
And closer.
And closer.
“Don’t hold back,” he whispers.
A sound escapes my throat.
“Keep going, baby. You're so close,”
he purrs into my skin.
“You're gonna feel so much better after."
He strokes me faster,
and then I break?—
