When she nods, the tension coiled inside me unravels, and I bend her forward again, sinking deeper, my pace turning savage.
The sound of us fucking fills the office, wet and obscene and perfect. It feeds the dark thing in me that wants to claim her so thoroughly she’ll never think about leaving again.
Our eyes meet when she turns her head, and something breaks open inside me. She’s burrowed into my head, under every defense I’ve built. She’s not just a distraction anymore. She’s a need. And that terrifies me because needing anyone in this world makes you vulnerable.
Her walls flutter around me, her whole body pulling taut as the orgasm hits. I drink in every gasp, every tremor, every moment of her losing control. Her mouth falls open, the flush racing down her throat as she surrenders completely to the pleasure I’m giving her.
For one moment nothing else exists. Not the Ghost, not the deal with my father, not the clock ticking down. Just her.
DINARA
The orgasm slams into me without warning, stealing my breath and every coherent thought. My body locks around him, pulsing and clenching, and my own cry sounds distant, like someone else is making those desperate, broken sounds.
He doesn’t give me a second to recover. His fingers keep working my clit, his cock driving into me, and the pleasure doesn’t stop. It builds again, sharper this time, almost too much.
“One more,” he growls. “Give me one more.”
I don’t think I can, but he proves me wrong. The second orgasm hits while I’m riding the first, doubling the intensity until I’m sobbing his name into the desk, completely wrecked.
Only then does he let himself go. His thrusts turn wild, uncontrolled, before he’s coming deep inside me with a sound that’s almost savage.
The heat of him spilling into me registers in the back of my mind. The intimacy of it, the fact nothing separated us, that he’s buried deep while he pulses and empties himself.
We stay frozen, both of us breathing hard, his weight pinning me to the desk in a way that should feel suffocating but doesn’t.
He presses a kiss to the side of my neck, surprisingly gentle, then pulls out carefully.
The loss of him makes me shiver. My legs feel like Jell-O and when I try to push myself upright, I wobble.
Kirill catches me, steadying me at the waist. “I’ve got you.”
I think he means it in more ways than one.
Now that the haze of lust is fading, panic edges in. When he told me, “You’re mine and you’re not going anywhere,” I agreed for some reason I can’t explain.
Part of it was because he caught me red-handed in his office, and if I didn’t go on the offensive, spinning some bullshit story about a resignation letter, it would lead to questions. Questions he had every right to ask.
Except it wasn’t all bullshit. My anger was real. The hurt festering under my skin for days of radio silence was real. And what happened on his desk was real in a way that has nothing to do with my cover identity or my mission or any of the lies I’ve been telling since I got here.
I want him. I’ve wanted him from the beginning, and using that desire to distract him doesn’t make it any less true.
Now the lingering heat of his hands on my skin is all there is, my body humming with satisfaction as I tug my dress down over my quaking thighs.
“You good?” he asks, the gentleness in his voice a contrast to the way he just used my body.
I look up at him. “I’m good, but I have to get back to work. Oksana’s covering my tables.”
He catches my wrist before I make it two steps.
“I’m driving you home tonight. Meet me out back after your shift,” he demands, his thumb stroking the inside of my wrist where my pulse races.
The smart move would be to say no, to put distance between us before this gets more complicated than it already is. But saying no means answering questions about why I was in his office, and I’m not ready for that conversation. Besides, this is not a man who takes no for an answer.
“Okay.”
He releases my wrist and I slip out the door, my mind spinning.
What if he’s already replaying the conversation, picking apart my story, realizing that nothing about it made sense? What if he checks his laptop logs and sees something off? I deleted the admin account I created, but I always double-check my work. I was in a rush, and rushing makes people sloppy.
