"Say it." I set a brutal rhythm. Hard enough that he had to brace against the wall. Hard enough that every thrust made him gasp. "Say you're mine."
"I'm yours." The words came out broken. Reluctant. True. "I'm yours, you bastard, I'm yours—"
I kissed him to swallow the words. Fucked him against the wall with all the pent-up desire I'd been containing for months.He met every thrust, taking what I gave and demanding more. His cock was trapped between our bodies, getting friction on every movement. I could feel him getting close, could feel his body starting to tense.
"Come for me," I ordered. "Right now. Come for me, Valentino."
He did. Spilling between us with my name on his lips and his body clenching around me. The sight and sound and feel of him coming undone pushed me over the edge. I buried myself as deep as I could and came with a groan that was more surrender than triumph.
For a long moment we just stayed there. Bodies pressed together. Both breathing hard. The office was silent except for our ragged breathing and the distant thump of music from the club below.
I pulled out carefully and Valentino made a small sound of protest. I caught him as his knees buckled, held him up with hands that were gentler than I'd been a moment ago.
"Desk," I said. My voice was rough. "I said I wanted you on the desk."
"You're insane." But he was smiling slightly. The first genuine smile I'd seen from him in months.
"Probably." I guided him to the desk. Cleared the surface with one sweep of my arm, sending papers scattering. "But you're staying."
"Am I?"
"Yes." I turned him around and bent him over the polished mahogany. Looked at him spread out exactly how I'd wanted him. "Because this isn't finished. Neither of us is finished."
I was still hard. Didn't know how that was possible but I was. And Valentino was already opening for me again, his body pliant and willing despite the defiance in his eyes.
I took my time the second time. Learned him properly. Found every spot that made him gasp, every angle that made him moan. Fucked him on my desk like I was claiming him. Marking him. Making absolutely certain he understood what had just happened.
He came again, hands scrabbling for purchase on the smooth wood. I followed right behind him, emptying myself inside him while his name fell from my lips like a prayer.
When it was over, I collapsed forward, careful not to crush him. Pressed my forehead between his shoulder blades and tried to remember how to breathe.
We stayed like that for a long time. Too long. Until the sweat cooled and reality started seeping back in.
I pulled out finally and Valentino made a soft sound. I helped him up, steadied him when he swayed. We were both a mess—clothes disheveled, skin marked, completely debauched.
I should have felt triumphant. I'd gotten exactly what I wanted.
Instead I felt something uncomfortably close to vulnerable.
Valentino started putting his clothes back together. Finding his shirt, his jeans. Not looking at me as he dressed. I did the same, buttoning my shirt with hands that still weren't quite steady.
"So," he said finally. His voice was carefully neutral. "What now?"
Good question. What now?
I could send him away. Maintain the control. Keep this transactional and clear. Make sure he understood this changed nothing about our arrangement.
Or I could be honest.
"Now you come back," I said. "Same time next week. I'll have another story for you."
His expression shuttered. "Right. Of course. Another story."
"And you'll come to my penthouse instead of here. I want you in my space." The words came out without conscious thought. But once said, I knew they were true.
"Your penthouse." He was watching me carefully now.
"Yes. Where I can give you a proper bed instead of a desk. Where we have privacy. Where—" I stopped. Tried to figure out what I was actually trying to say.
