Another impatient sound, and I give her ass a quick, light thwack.
A muffled gasp.
“You like that?” I lean over her and line my face up with hers, meeting her gaze as she nods. It’s the first eye contact we’ve had since this started, and it shuts my systems down for a beat.
What was I saying? Right. “You like your punishment?”
Her eyebrows dip into what has got to be a pout. I grin, let my body cover hers, and press my iron-hard erection against her.
“This is how it’ll be if I give you my cock. You feel that?”
She nods, each breath frantic, as she cranes back to maintain eye contact.
Fuck me, this woman’s beautiful. Dancing, smiling, stretched out on her desk like an offering. I watch her, filled with the strangest sensation. Like there are two of me, this one, running through the motions of a scene I can’t stop dreaming of, and my double, hovering somewhere beside me, watching, waiting. For what, I have no idea.
I shake my head, blink hard to pop out of it, and concentrate on Sunny’s back lifting and falling, her rear end presented to me like a gift, her hands white at the knuckles where they clutch the far end of her desk.
Then I make the mistake of meeting her gaze again, those big eyes, somehow naive and all-knowing and completely hazed with lust, and that’s all it takes to send what’s left of my tightly held control slipping like sand through my fingers. Why is that? Why would her lost expression make my stomach go tight and clench my jaw hard enough to break teeth? The skin of her cheekbones a hot pink. That deep divot in the middle of her bottom lip—obvious even with the way they’re stretched wide with the paper still inside. Why wouldanyof this make me want to swipe everything from her desk, flip her over, put my mouth to hers, and take her, slow and deep?
These urges make no sense. I don’t lose it. Not at the club and certainly not here.
Control is everything.
But that little freckle—the one that looks like a perfect little teardrop under her left eye?Thatis my last straw?
I search wildly around us for something—anything—to latchon to. There’s nothing. The rules are gone, rolled up into a ball in her mouth.
And whose fault is that? Shit. No. I will not lose all control because of one solitary freckle.
“Turn over,” I order, pushing my voice to the deep, crisp place where I prefer it to be. I ease my aching erection away from where it’s dying to be. “Now, Sunny. Don’t make me wait.”
She obeys.
Good.Good. Much better.
“Spread. Wide. Heels on the desk.”
She tries to say something through her gag.
“Are you using your safe word?”
She shakes her head.
“Is there something you need to say?”
Another headshake, with a bratty little eye roll.
“Hold your legs. Here. And here. I’ll be fucking you with my fingers now.” My attention moves down her body. “Gonna make this plump little pussy come. When and how I decide. Got it?” At her eager nod, I use my thumb to open her up again and ease it inside. “That’s so nice. So fucking wet.”
Her blush darkens, and I can feel by how she clenches that the praise doesn’t just go to her head. It goes right here, to this hot, slick place between her legs.
I move in again, slow, deep. She responds with a moan. I give her thigh a light slap. “Quiet. Or I stop. You want that?”
She shakes her head frantically.
“Keep these wide. Stay quiet. This’ll be over soon.”
Like it’s a chore she has to sit through. A duty instead of this intense, illicit pleasure.
