“This is insane,” I whisper to no one in particular.
He gives me one more look, and that shuts me up on the spot. Then he reaches out and offers me his hand. This is it—one last chance toback out.
Of course, I take his hand. His palm is rough, a little warm from the work he’d been doing.
All I can think about is what it would feel like to have him buried inside me.
He guides me around the desk, and soon, I’m right in front of him. Just like earlier in the day, he’s looming over me like some kind of god.
“You don’t want to leave,” he says. His voice is low, certain, like he’s reading my soul itself. His hand moves up my wrist, his touch brushing the delicate skin there. “You’ve felt it, too. All this time.”
He’s right. I want to pull back, tell him he’s full of himself, as usual. But I can’t.
My body’s screaming for him, and I’m done pretending I don’t want him like mad.
“Sasha—” My voice comes out in a weak plead, cracking on the second syllable of his name. He tightens his grip just a bit, pulling me just a few inches closer to him. I graze the side of his desk, the wood digging into my skin just enough to let me know it’s there.
Then he reaches up, fingers brushing my jaw, tilting my face to his.
“Mr. Orlov,” he whispers.
I want to laugh at how, even now, he’s bossy to the core. But I’m too distracted by how overwhelming he is up close like this. His chest is thick and powerful, and I catch glimpses of tattoos at the border of his shirt. His scent curls around me like another arm, pulling me close.
“You fight me every goddamn day,” he says, his breath hot, his voice a low rumble I can feel in my bones, his lips so close I can almost taste them. “But not tonight.” He traces my lower lip with his thumb, and a shiver courses down my spine. “Tonight, you’re mine.”
With those words, something in me snaps. I grab his shirt and pull it into a fist, trying to yank him to me, but instead pull myself to him. His mouth crashes into mine, and it’s glorious and messy and everything else. His cock, still hard as steel, pushes against my stomach.
It’s wrong. So, so wrong. Career-ruining, life-ending wrong.
But I don’t care.
The merger, the relentless deadlines, the punishing workload—it all burns away as I give in. I know I’ll regret this in the morning, but right now, I’m too caught up to care.
My free hand moves down, as if on its own, brushing Sasha’s chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle under warm, rough skin. His tongue invades my mouth, claiming me with a taste of whiskey lingering on his tongue. He reaches around and cups my ass, squeezing it hard enough to make me moan.
He lifts me, sitting me down on the edge of the desk, stepping between my open legs. His cock presses against my pussy through my soaked panties, and I moan hard into his kiss.
Sasha’s impatient as hell, growling as he kisses me, pulling my blouse open hard enough to send buttons flying, and exposing the black lace bra I—thankfully—happened to be wearing today. He lands those huge, rough hands on mybelly, moving them up, until he slips them under the cups of my bra, holding my breasts in a rough, possessive manner, like they’re his.
His thumbs circle my nipples until they’re hard, aching peaks. I gasp, and he swallows it with another deep kiss, this time biting my lower lip just enough to hurt in a way that somehow feels so good. I arch into him, pressing against his cock, reaching around and slipping my hands under his shirt, digging my nails into the solid muscle of his upper back. His gorgeous, sculpted chest presses against me, all hard lines and heat.
“Fuck, you taste good,” he growls into my mouth. “I bet every part of you tastes this sweet.”
Before I have a chance to react, he pulls me off the desk and takes me by the hips, turning me around like I weigh nothing at all. His hands find the hem of my skirt, and he pulls it up, exposing my nearly bare ass.
“Mine.” The word comes out in a rough growl, as he pulls my panties to the side, the office air cool against my pussy.
His cock is already out, and I moan as soon as I feel the hard bluntness of his head brush against my lips, teasing my entrance, the head of his cock pushing through my slick folds, making me gasp with how good it feels. Then, with one slow thrust, he enters me from behind. The deep stroke is perfect, slow, and fills me completely. The stretch is exquisite, almost too much, his thick length stretching my walls in a way that makes me cry out, gripping the desk for dear life.
I lean forward, my nipples brushing against the cool wood. His hips slam into mine, giving me another punishing thrustdeep inside, his glorious girth stretching my walls in a way that makes my toes curl.
“God, you’re so perfect,” he groans. “Your perfect pussy feels so good wrapped around my cock.”
I moan, pushing back against him, making him give it all to me.
His right hand moves up my side until he’s at my neck. He grabs a fist of my hair, pulling it back just enough to make me arch into him, taking him deeper inside. The other hand snakes around, fingertips finding my clit, and rubbing tight, relentless circles that make my vision blur.
The office echoes with our sounds, my desperate moans mixing with his deep grunts. The desk creaks under the force of his thrusts, and I fall forward, my breasts pressing flat against the wood, as he drives into me with a persistent pace.
