His hips snapped against mine with delicious force. The table creaked beneath us, wood groaning in protest. Neither of us cared; the world narrowed to the wet sounds of him pounding into me, my pussy squelching around his cock.
“Like this? You like it, little mate?” he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, forehead pressed to mine, eyes fierce and locked on my face.
“Yes. God, yes. Don’t ever stop.” My hands roamed his back, nails scraping down to his ass, urging him on.
“Never,” he promised, his pace increasing until the sound of skin against skin filled the room, mixed with my gasps and his grunts. “I will never stop wanting you.”
He shifted his angle slightly, tilting his hips, and suddenly every thrust was hitting exactly the right spot, nailing my g-spot with brutal precision. I cried out, a high keen that bounced off the ceiling, my nails raking down his back, leaving red welts I’d trace with my tongue later. The pleasure was building, coiling tighter and tighter in my core, spreading through my limbs like fire, heat flushing my skin until I was burning up.
His thumb found my clit again, pressing and circling in time with his thrusts, firm, insistent rubs that made my vision white out. The pressure built relentlessly, my walls fluttering wildly around his cock, clenching in warning.
“I’m so close,” I panted, my inner walls starting to spasm, thighs quaking around him. Sweat slicked our bodies, sliding together.
“Come for me, little mate,” he commanded, his voice low and rough in that way that always drove me wild, leaning down to bite my earlobe. “Let me feel you come around my cock. Squeeze me until I fill you up.”
That was all it took. I shattered, pleasure crashing over me in waves so intense my back arched off the table, head thrown back as I cried his name.
“Mal! Fuck, yes!”
My inner walls clenched around him in rhythmic pulses, milking his length. Juices squirted out around his base, soaking his groin and the table beneath me, the release dragging on as tremors shook my body.
He followed right behind me with a guttural groan, thrusting deep one last time, grinding against my cervix as he spilled inside me, hot ropes of cum flooding my pussy, coating my walls, the warmth spreading thick and sticky. His cock jerked with each spurt, prolonging my aftershocks until he was spent, hips stuttering to a halt.
He collapsed over me, barely catching himself on his forearms, both of us panting and trembling and completely wrecked, his weight a delicious press. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest, matching the racing beat of my own, our mixed release leaking out around him, dripping onto the wood below.
We stayed like that for a long moment, him still inside me, both of us catching our breath.
Then I started laughing.
“What?” he asked, lifting his head to look at me with a lazy, satisfied smile.
“We just had sex on the council table.”
“Hell yeah we did.”
“Where we have important political meetings.”
“Yes.”
“I’m never going to be able to sit through another meeting without thinking about this.”
“Good,” he said, kissing me again. “That was the plan. Hope everyone scents how I made you mine right here for the rest of eternity, for as long as we keep having meetings in this damn room.”
I blushed at that, slightly embarrassed. We cleaned up as best we could, getting dressed with the clothes that weren’t torn apart, slowly because neither of us wanted to stop touching each other. His fingers kept finding my waist, my hair, my face. Mine kept finding his chest, his arms, his jaw.
“These are my favorite places now,” he said, helping me button my dress.
“What, meeting rooms?”
“Any place I can have you.”
“Cheesy.”
“It’s the truth.”
I kissed him again because I could, because we were good again, because I loved this man more than I could ever adequately express.
“We should probably actually check on Killian now,” I said reluctantly.
