His hand pulls back, out of my pants, as his other hand that was collaring my throat moves down to join it. He works to unbutton my jeans as I writhe in place, eager for friction and penetration from any part of him.
Those massive fingers, oh my God histongue, or please, yes, hiscock. The man can make me see stars with his cooking, he got me off with histhighfor fuck’s sake, I can’t even imagine what he can do with the rest of him. Lord knows I’ve tried to though.
“You gonna let me give you what you need? Show you what it’s like to get exactly what you deserve from a man?”
My head rolls on his chest, side to side, and I could scream from frustration. The teasing, I don’t need it. In fact, I don’t want to hear his voice at all during this. Let me keep my dignity, pretend it’s Alan Ritchson or anyone else behind me, impaling me, not the arrogant chef I can’t stand.
“Do you ever shut up?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“There’s one way you could get me to shut up. But it’s not what I have in mind for you right now.”
A blast of cool air hits my warm flesh, and I realize he’s pulled my pants down just enough to leave me out in the open. Not undressed me all the way. No rose petals or candlelight from Wilder Amante. All that’s out is exactly what he needs to get what he wants.
Raw, dirty, do what needs to be done. Animalistic.
Somehow, it unhinges me. The idea of being treated like a fuck toy. Like all he needs is my pussy.
Wilder lifts my right leg up until my knee is on the desk, and I’m spread open, barely able to keep my balance. I’m completely at his mercy in this pose, held in place by my jeans banded around my thighs, the hold he has on me, and this awkward position.
It’s as I’m about to burst from the anticipation, not knowing if he’s putting on a condom to slide into me from behind, or what comes next, that I feel it.
His forearm wrapped around my hips, his fingers dipping into my entrance.
He moans in my ear, completely unembarrassed by the sound. “Shit, Boss. If I’d known you were this wet, I would’ve kicked everyone out hours ago. Madeyouthe tasting instead. Up on the line, thighs spread around my ears as I fucked you with my tongue.”
Another wanton noise leaves my lips, my face flushed, nipples pebbled and begging for attention even through the bra and shirt still covering them. I’m too far gone to care what I look like, what I sound like. I let myselffeelwhat he’s doing to me for once.
Wilder plays with the slickness around my opening, pulling it up to my clit and pinching me once. My thighs clench andsqueeze together rapidly, but the desk holding my knee up doesn’t let me get away from the sensation.
Head dropping back onto his shoulder, his stubbled face comes down to my ear once more.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about getting you off. Fuck my fist every night thinking of your tits, dreaming of this cunt. Gonna have so much more to think about when I get home tonight. Now that I’ve felt heaven.”
The whimper I make turns into a howl when he plunges his fingers inside me. Is that two? Three? Fuck, he’s so big I can’t tell.
“Mmm, that’s it,bella,” he encourages. “Move your hips, ride my hand like it’s my cock.”
If this wereanyother moment, I wouldn’t listen to him. I would do the opposite of whatever he told me to do. Because I hate Wilder Amante and I want nothing more than to make his life miserable.
Except, maybe, possibly, to come on him, near him, by him, because of him.
So my hips obey, moving over his hand, circling, stretching as his fingers pull back and enter me once again, prepping me for the ride I’m about to get.
When he enters me again, two fingers spreading my folds as another two start exploring, I start moving. Grinding on his hand, my ass moves against his hips and I feel just how hard he is behind me. Just howlargehe is. And something about it doesn’t quite make sense, but I’m lost in the pleasure, all of my attention homed in on the nerve endings he’s serenading right now with his skillful touch. The symphony he’s pulling out of me with every teasing stroke and pluck.
His thumb darts up to circle my clit and I hum at the feel of him. He applies more pressure, twisting his fingers and bending them at just the right spot that my vision turns white-hot.
The visual of what he must look like behind me, jaw clenched, dark eyes blown out in concentration as he skillfully wrenches an orgasm from me entirely too fast, it hits me and it turns me on even more.
“I hate you,” I pant out, hips still circling and jerking over his ministrations with more desperation the closer I get.
“Feels like you hate me,” he says, and I can feel his lips tilted up in a smile against my ear, which absolutely won’t do.
Bracing myself with both hands on the desk, I lift my foot that’s still on the floor and do my best to stomp it on top of his.
The dark chuckle in my ear tells me that wasn’t the thing to do, but I don’t listen to common sense.Clearly. Or I wouldn’t be getting finger banged by the guy I’m trying to run out of town.
Mixed messages much, Lex?
