Fully exposed to him, I exhaled all my stress.
I’d been craving this. I couldn’t deny it any longer. I wanted to give myself to him, and it was only my own stubbornness that stopped me from allowing him in.
He pressed his hand flat on the small of my back, and my fingers curled against the surface of the desk. His zipper scratched as he tugged it down. Fabric rustled. I heard a foil packet crinkling, and his hand left the small of my back for a moment.
Then he was there, hard and insistent, demanding to be let in. There was a moment of panic—it only lasted an instant, in that second when the blunt tip of him pressed against me.
What was I doing? This was a mistake. I was ruining this golden goose of a job, and this would surely blow up in my face. I was putting in jeopardy everything I cared about.
Then his thumbs pressed down on either side of my spine, fingers gripping my waist, and he pushed inside me. Thepanic evaporated as the pressure of his entrance overwhelmed me. I gasped, legs shaking, but there was nowhere to go.
Nowhere I wanted to go.
I gave in to the desire to soften, and he slid inside. Inch by inch. Stretching, pushing, making room that I didn’t think existed inside me for him. His groan was delicious. The sudden tightening of his fingers around my body gave me a surge of thrilling power.
He was as undone as I was.
Then he pulled out, all the way out, and his palm cracked against my bare ass. I jumped, and a moment later his hand was easing the sting on my skin. “Next time I tell you to hold on, you won’t let go,” he rasped.
I hummed. “Maybe,” I replied.
His palm cracked against my cheek again, and he thrust inside me before I could cry out. My yelp was swallowed by a moan, the sensations overwhelming me. My skin burned and tingled and glowed. And I softened against the desk.
I knew he felt my surrender when he panted, his palm landing near my head, his hips driving me harder into the desk. I’d have bruises on my hipbones, and I didn’t care. I welcomed them. I loved the overwhelming, all-consuming feeling of having him on top of me. Of all my worries melting away, because he held them in his cupped hands. All that mattered was this moment. These sensations. Him.
He pulled out and pushed back in. “You don’t lock me out again,” he commanded, voice dark and velvety near my ear. “From now on, you’re mine, Deena.”
I floated on a dark ocean, with the only thing keeping me above the surface the feeling of his warmth behind me. “Yours,” I whispered.
Then I was in the air; Cal had picked me up. He sat down on one of the chairs across from my desk, spun me around, andimpaled me. My feet dangled on either side of him, unable to get purchase on the floor below my toes. Cal rocked up from under me, his hand gripping the side of my neck as he pulled me down for a kiss.
It was messy and rough and perfect. All I could do was hold on. All I wanted to do was lose myself in this moment, in him. I softened my body, bouncing atop him as the world went fuzzy around the edges.
“Do it, Deena,” he growled. “Touch yourself. Make yourself come while you ride my dick.”
I should’ve burned with embarrassment to be spoken to like that, but instead I burned with pleasure. My fingers found my bud, and it took only a handful of seconds before an orgasm had me in its grip. Cal crooned praise in my ear. He held me where he wanted me and thrust into me while I squeezed out the last of my climax, my other hand gripping his shoulder so hard I was sure I was hurting him. But he didn’t seem to mind. His teeth were bared, his eyes feral.
This was something beyond sex. This was a mutual claiming. This was the start of something—or maybe the end.
“Cal,” I gasped.
“Kiss me while I fill you with my cum,” he commanded, and then he captured my lips with his. His body went rigid, and a rough groan ripped through his throat. That sound, along with the feel of his hands gripping me like he’d die if he let go, made another twist of pleasure cut through me.
I collapsed on top of him, and he held me in his strong arms. His hands made slow sweeps over my skin, keeping me connected to the present. Connected to him.
Nothing had ever felt this good.
TWENTY-THREE
CALLUM
Deena’s eyeswere sparkling and dazed when she finally lifted her head to look at me. Beautiful. I couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her again, but I did it gently, tasting her in little sips and nibbles. Then we disentangled from one another in slow, tentative movements. I didn’t let her go far, keeping a hand on her thigh or her back as she retrieved her skirt.
When we were dressed, I tangled my fingers in hers and tugged her toward the office door. “Work’s done for the day,” I told her.
“I still have a few things to do,” she protested.
My driven, determined woman. I pulled her so she crashed into my chest, then wrapped my arms around her. She was warm and soft and mine. “Do them tomorrow,” I told her. “We’re going home.”
