“You’re soaked for me,” I growl, voice raw. “Is that what you want… to drive me insane until I can’t think of anything but this?”
She throws her head back, laughing, her hair spilling over the desk. “Maybe I want you out of control,” she whispers, legs tightening around my waist. “Maybe I want you to lose yourself.”
I pull my belt open, freeing myself, the ache almost painful now. I drag her to the edge of the desk, holding her wide,lining myself up and thrusting into her in one hard, punishing stroke.
She moans, loud and unguarded, her heels digging into my back as I fill her, stretch her, claim her all over again.
The rhythm is frantic, desperate, my hips slamming against hers, the sound obscene in the hush of the office.
She’s wet, tight, perfect—clinging to me, matching me thrust for thrust, breathless curses spilling from her lips. I grip her hips so hard I know I’ll leave bruises, driving into her again and again, lost in the friction, the heat, the slick slide of her body around me.
She scratches at my back, raking nails over my skin, her voice a litany of need. “Harder,” she begs, and I give it to her, faster, deeper, until the desk rattles beneath us and the papers are a forgotten mess at our feet.
I lean down, teeth at her jaw, my breath ragged.
“Say you’re mine,” I demand, thrusting deep.
She meets my gaze, wild and unbroken. “I’m yours,” she gasps, “but you’ll never own me.”
It’s the truth—the only truth that matters. I kiss her hard, swallowing her laughter, her defiance, the wild heat that threatens to undo me.
I feel her tighten around me, her whole body seizing as she comes, shuddering and breathless, her cries muffled by my mouth.
I follow a moment later, losing myself in her, the world shrinking to nothing but the rush, the burn, the impossible relief of her.
When it’s over, I hold her there, pressed to me, both of us shaking, sweat-slick and ruined. The only thing I know for certain is that I never want to let her go.
I also know that with Suzy, there are always secrets, always games—and I want every one of them.
Suzy’s weight is soft and warm against me, her breathing slow but uneven, each exhale feathering over my collarbone.
I cradle her for a moment longer, pressing a kiss to her temple, letting her scent—salt, perfume, the faint trace of sweat—settle in my lungs.
Her cheek is damp, her lips still parted, a tiny, satisfied smile playing at the edges. She looks impossibly young like this, stripped of every mask, every line of anger and resistance. I want to hold her here forever, to keep her in this moment, untouched by the world beyond these walls.
I shift my grip and sweep her up, one arm under her knees, the other at her back. She doesn’t protest, only burrows deeper into my chest as if this is the most natural thing in the world.
I carry her to the leather couch against the wall, laying her down gently, smoothing the hair from her face. I pull off my suit jacket and drape it over her, tucking her in as if she were precious, breakable.
I think she’s already drifting, eyelids fluttering, the remnants of sleep softening her features. I sit beside her, one hand tracing the line of her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek, letting myself indulge in the kind of tenderness I’d never admit out loud.
I allow myself to really look at her—not as a captive, not as an enemy or a puzzle to solve, but as someone who’s become terrifyingly important. I study the curve of her mouth, the delicate arch of her brow, the way her hand curls in the fabric of my jacket.
There’s a wildness to her even now, in sleep—a sense that, even at her most vulnerable, she’s never truly tamed.
The silence in the room feels different now: thicker, golden, full of meaning. My heart pounds against my ribs, not with fear, but with something raw and electric. I try to make sense of what just happened—how we went from trading barbs and taunts to this, to a collision of mouths and bodies that left us both shaken. She pushes me to the edge with every word, every glance, every challenge.
Then, somehow, she’s the only one who knows how to pull me back.
I want to keep her safe. That urge is a living thing, as fierce as anything I’ve ever felt. I know too well what she’s capable of—the secrets she holds, the sharpness hidden under all that softness.
For all my power, for all the ways I’ve tried to keep her here, she could still destroy me with a single choice. That possibility terrifies me. I want to trust her, to let myself believe in this fragile peace, but the stakes have never been higher. If she betrays me, I’ll never recover.
I force myself to look away, to give her the privacy of her dreams. I return to the desk, kneeling to gather the scattered papers: contracts, blueprints, the debris of the lives I manage with iron discipline.
The sharp scent of sex lingers in the air, mixing with her perfume, reminding me that nothing between us will ever be clean or simple.
I try to focus on the details. I sort through the folders, straightening the mess. There’s a phone call I need to return—some issue with a shipment, a problem with a new security detail. I reach for the bottom drawer, distracted, only to find itslightly ajar. Not much, just enough to notice, just enough to stir something cold at the base of my spine.
