An actual growl rumbles through his chest, and the sound sends heat racing down my spine. He steps back just enough to free himself from his pants, and the sight of him makes my mouth water. I’ve seen him naked plenty of times now, but it still hits me the same way every time.
I lick my lips without thinking.
His hand catches my chin, tilting my face up until I have no choice but to meet his eyes. They’ve gone nearly black, and my stomach flips.
“Don’t tempt me.” His voice scrapes like gravel. “Lick those lips again, and you’ll be on your knees.”
Heat floods through me, settling between my thighs. Part of me wants to test him just to see what happens. But I want to be fucked more than I want to push my luck, so I file that away for later.
He strips my jeans down my legs and spins me toward the table, one sweep of his arm sending boxes crashing to the concrete floor. I don’t hear glass breaking, which is probably good, but honestly I don’t care either way because then I’m bent over the table with my cheek pressed to cool metal and nothing else matters.
His foot kicks my legs apart. I feel the blunt head of his cock notch against my entrance, and anticipation coils tight in my core. His fingers dig into my hips, hard enough that I’ll probably have bruises tomorrow.
I don’t care about that either.
He slams home in one brutal thrust, and I have to bite down on my lip to trap the cry that wants to escape. He fills me completely. Stretching me in that way that always feels like too much and not enough at the same time.
For a moment, he doesn’t move. Just stays buried deep, his breath ragged against the back of my neck. I can feel him everywhere—the heat of his chest against my spine, the grip of his hands anchoring me in place, the thick pulse of him inside me.
Then he pulls back and drives in again, harder this time, and my thoughts scatter.
He sets a punishing rhythm. I’m on my tiptoes, thighs shoved against the table’s edge with every snap of his hips, but the small discomforts blur into background noise beneath all thatpleasure. My hands scramble for purchase on the smooth metal of the table, finding nothing to hold onto.
“Hands flat,” he orders. “Don’t move them.”
I obey without thinking, pressing my palms against the table. Something about the command, about holding still while he takes what he wants, makes the heat between my legs ratchet up another impossible notch.
He shifts his angle, and suddenly he’s hitting a spot that makes my whole body jerk. A broken sound escapes me.
“There?” His voice is rough. Almost a taunt.
I can only nod, beyond words.
He does it again. And again. Each thrust deliberate now, precise, like he’s cataloguing exactly what makes me fall apart. My thighs are shaking. I can hear myself making sounds I’d be mortified by if I could think straight—whimpers and gasps and his name, over and over.
Matteo fists my hair and pulls, arching my back, and leans over me until his breath is hot against my ear.
“You have no idea what you do to me.” His voice is wrecked, barely recognizable. “Can’t think straight when I’m inside you. Can’t think about anything but this. Just you.”
His hand slides around my hip, fingers finding where we’re joined. The first brush against my clit makes me cry out.
“That’s it.” He circles slowly, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. “Let me hear you.”
I’m beyond embarrassment now. Beyond anything but the pleasure building and building, pressure coiling so tight I can barely breathe.
“I’m close—Matteo, I’m?—”
His hand snakes around to palm my breast beneath my shirt. “Then come.” It’s not a request. It’s a command that I feel all the way to my toes. “Come all over my cock like a good girl.”
And just like that, I shatter.
The orgasm rips through me, and I can’t hold back the sound this time. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hope the bar’s music drowns it out, but mostly I’m just feeling. Wave after wave pulsing through me as Matteo goes rigid at my back. His cock jerks inside me, his groan muffled against my shoulder, and for a long moment, we just exist there together.
Then reality starts seeping back in. The muffled thump of bass from the bar. The hard edge of the table that’s definitely going to leave a mark on my thighs. The fact that we just had sex in the storeroom of my workplace, which is probably some kind of health code violation.
So much for being a responsible employee.
Matteo pulls out and reaches for his shirt while I drag my jeans back on, wincing at the slick mess between my thighs. It’s going to be a long shift with wet panties, but when I turn and see the way his shoulders have loosened, the way that wall behind his eyes has dropped just a little, I decide it was worth it.
