I hooked my leg around his and pressed against him. He wasn’t lying. “I want you too. So much.” I grabbed his shirtfront and yanked him back down, devouring his mouth like I was starved for it.
My whole life I’d played by the rules.
Now I wanted the mess.
I wanted him.
He walked me across the room until my ass hit the wooden desk by the window, sending a stack of resort pamphlets scattering to the floor. I gasped, breathless, and he stepped back to watch me for a second, chest heaving. It was the first time I’d seen him hesitate.
I slowly, deliberately unbuttoned the top of my dress, then leaned back on my elbows against the cool wood. “If you don’t get over here, I’m starting without you.”
Dean exhaled a sound that was half curse, half groan, and tugged off his shirt in one motion. He was lean and muscled, a faint line of hair trailing from his chest down his stomach. In two strides, he was back at the desk. He braced his hands on either side of my hips and leaned over me, his face just inches from mine.
I bit his earlobe, then slid my tongue down his neck. He shivered, and his control snapped. His hands found the zipper at my side, and in a blur, the dress was gone, replaced by the chill of the room and the heat of his skin.
We tore at each other, every barrier falling away. My bra was gone in a flash. Dean’s mouth traced a line from my throat to my shoulder. My hands explored his back, digging into his muscles as he rocked against me. I wanted to memorize every inch of him. His fingers trailed up my thigh, teasing the edge of my panties. I pulled his hand to me, guiding him where I wanted him.
“Dean,” I moaned.
A raw, guttural sound tore from his throat. His mouth crashed down on mine again, but his hands were already moving, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my panties. I expected him to slide them down, but there was a sharp tug, the sound of tearing fabric, and then nothing but cool air on my skin. He ripped them away with one hand, the scrap of lace fluttering to the floor, a forgotten casualty.
Before I could even process it, he sank to his knees in front of me, his hands gripping my thighs, thumbs tracing slow, deliberate circles on my inner skin. He lifted my right leg and hooked it over his shoulder before pulling me to the edge of thedesk, exposing me completely to his hungry gaze.
Then his mouth was on me. Hot, wet, and perfect.
His tongue swept over my nub, a single, deliberate lick that sent a jolt up my spine, making me gasp his name. He didn’t rush. He explored me, his tongue tracing lazy patterns, his lips applying just the right amount of pressure, learning my body with focused intensity. My hips began to buck, one of my hands digging into his hair as I chased the feeling. I braced myself with my other arm as I gasped into the empty night. I was close, so close, the pleasure coiling tight and low in my stomach.
And then he backed off.
He slowed, his tongue becoming achingly gentle, lapping at the edges, denying me the friction I craved. A frustrated whimper escaped my lips, and his wicked laugh filled the air. He dove back in, relentless this time. He devoured me, his tongue a merciless rhythm against me, his fingers digging into the flesh of my ass, holding me in place for the onslaught.
I exploded.
My body convulsed, a scream tearing from my throat aspleasure surged through me. Dean’s grip was firm and steady as the aftershocks rocked me. He rode it out, kissing a path up my trembling stomach until he stood, his expression tight with control threatening to snap.
“My turn.” A surge of exhilarating power shot through me. I wasn’t done. I wanted to seehimundone.
I pushed him, and he went willingly, letting me spin him until his back was against the wall beside the desk. He was only in his boxer briefs, his erection straining against the thin cotton. I knelt before him, my hands finding the waistband. I hooked my thumbs in and peeled them down his thighs, freeing him. He was thick and hot, and the sight of him, so exposed and waiting for me, was intoxicating.
I took him into my mouth, tasting salt and skin. A ragged groan escaped his throat and vibrated against my lips. I craved more of that sound. His hands tangled in my hair, gripping without pushing, his knuckles white as he held on. I established a steady, deep pace, slowly quickening my rhythm. His hips began to move against my mouth.
“Brynn,” he gasped, his voice strained. “Wait. I need to be inside you. Now.”
After pulling my head away, he lifted me to my feet. He spun me around and pressed me forward, bending me over the desk. He loomed over me for a second, running his hands over my back before fumbling for his wallet in his pants. He tore a condom wrapper open with his teeth. I watched, mesmerized, as he sheathed himself.
He settled behind me, his hands gripping my hips, and plunged inside from behind, filling me completely. I cried out, a raw sound of pleasure and relief. He was hot and perfect, stretching me, claiming every inch. He moved slowly at first, but that didn’t last.
We quickly built to a frantic, sweaty rhythmfueled by desperate need. He slammed into me, again and again, and I met every thrust, my nails digging into the smooth wood of the desk.
I pushed up on my hands, arching my back, and looked over my shoulder at him, my eyes locking with his in the dim light. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he reached around me, his hands closing over my breasts, kneading and squeezing in time with his thrusts. His thumbs found my already hard peaks, rolling them until I cried out again, the pleasure almost too much.
“That’s it,” he growled, his hips bucking hard against me.
It wasn’t enough. I needed more. I grabbed one of his wrists and pulled his hand from my breast. I guided it down, between our slick bodies, pressing his fingers against my center. He found my rhythm, circling and pressing as he drove into me faster, harder.
The pleasure was blinding. I was coming apart, my orgasm building with every slick slide of him inside me and the relentless pressure of his fingers. I felt him tense behind me, his thrusts becoming deeper and more frantic.
“Yes!” I cried out.
