Then there’s a knock. Sharp. Controlled. “Roan,” Dhimitër calls through the door, his voice cold and unmistakably disapproving.
I freeze. My whole body goes tense, yet Roan doesn’t stop fucking me, his rhythm unwavering. My face burns with shame, even as my insides tighten again, clenching around him with every slow thrust.
There’s no way Dhimitër doesn’t know exactly what’s happening in here. No possible way he’s not hearing every sound. And that knowledge somehow only makes the whole thing more intense, more thrilling.
Roan slaps his hand over my mouth before I can make another sound. “Më lër rehat,” he barks in Albanian, the tone alone enough to shut anyone up.
Whatever he said works—there’s no answer from the other side of the door. Just heavy silence and the ghost of disapproval.
Then Roan starts fucking me harder.
Much harder.
His grip in my hair tightens as he pulls me back against him, forcing me to arch, each thrust deeper and more brutal than the last. My moans keep spilling out even under his palm, too loud, too needy. Stopping them is no longer an option. I’m past the point of shame. The only thing I can think about is how good he feels inside me, how badly I need to come again, how I might actually die if he stops.
His other hand slides down, finds my swollen, oversensitive clit, and the absolute second he touches me there, my bodyjerks. It’s barely a graze, but I break. I clamp down around him, biting into his palm to muffle my scream as my orgasm rips through me. My vision blurs, and sensation floods me, too big, too much—until I’m reduced to him, the thrusts, and the white-hot blaze tearing through my core.
Then Roan groans my name behind me, his voice broken with it. “Fuck—Katie—goddamn it,” he grits out, hips stuttering as he pushes in one final time, burying himself as deep as physically possible. I feel him spill inside me, hot and deep, and it only makes me shudder harder, another aftershock rolling through my oversensitized body.
We stay like that for long moments, both of us breathing hard, bodies pressed tight together, the office thick with heat and everything we just did.
I can still taste the shame from when Dhimitër knocked. Can still hear his cold voice echoing in my head, a reminder of reality waiting outside this room. But right now, none of it matters. Because the only thing I can feel is Roan. Still buried inside me, holding me like he never wants to let go.
I wanted to ruin him for anyone else, but he ruined me right back.
“You’re going to get me pregnant if you keep coming inside me without a condom,” I pant, glancing back at him.
There’s a shift in his expression, a stark, hungry desire that should probably frighten me. But it doesn’t.
God help me, it doesn’t frighten me at all.
31
ROAN
Her words make my chest lock up as I look down at her.
Katie—pregnant with my child.
The thought alone has my cock stirring inside her, and she moans in response, her cunt fluttering around me like it knows exactly where my head just went. A delicious shiver races up my spine, leaving me lightheaded, eyes rolling back in my skull.
Fuck.
I curse under my breath and slowly pull out of her, momentarily mesmerized by the sight of my release slipping out of her swollen entrance. Acting purely on instinct, I drag my middle and index finger up her inner thigh, gathering the cum and shoving it back inside her. She moans my name like a prayer, her body twitching against the desk.
That sound nearly breaks me.
I shake my head and force myself to step away before I lose what’s left of my sanity. “You still have that pill of yours, don’t you?”
“Plan B isn’t exactly a reliable long-term birth control,” she says softly, “but yes, I do.”
I nod and put more distance between us. Getting herpregnant is a horrible idea, no matter what my cock or that primitive part of my brain thinks about it. We’re not in the right place for that kind of complication. This is not that.
Can’t be that.
My legs feel weak and rubbery as I make my way to the ensuite. I soak a towel in warm water and scrub it methodically over my sweaty body and cock, wincing slightly at how oversensitive I still am. When I’m done, I toss the used towel to the floor and grab another one to dry myself. Then I reach for two more clean towels—one wet, wrung out, the other left dry—and head back out.
Back in my office, Katie is still collapsed chest-down across my desk, skirt hiked up around her waist. Bare. Open. Vulnerable.
