I swallow hard and say the first thing that comes to mind—the raw, unadulterated truth. "I want to be bent over my desk in my office and fucked from behind," I answer. "I want it bare. I want to feel your cum dripping down my thighs while I’m inspecting quarterly reports."
"I'll keep that in mind," he rumbles. "But we do not have a desk available at the moment, and it isn't safe to go back to your office." He presses his palm to my belly, fingers pointing to the floor. "Try again. How do you want me to fuck you, Brys?"
"On all fours," I answer immediately. "I want you to spank me."
The lascivious gleam of desire bathing his expression is blindingly intense. "Mmmmm. Yes." Heat billows off of him in palpable waves. Primal, sexual fury drips from his every pore. "But not yet. I don't think you've earned that just yet, Brys. But youdodeserve…something."
I stand, shaking, silent, waiting, arousal rampaging through my veins. "Please, Jakob. I need—I need…"
His mouth slants over mine, silencing me. "I know what you need." He puts his lips to my ear. "Go to the window and stand facing it."
Trembling with nerves and anticipation—and mostly the latter—I do as he says.
He rips the curtains open, letting in blinding morning sunlight. Below, the parking lot is dotted with parked cars. A couple checking out early loads their luggage into their sedan. A man stands under the portico near the entrance, smoking a cigarette.
His glance shoots up this way, locks on me. Surprise washes over his features, then curiosity.
My heart slams madly behind my ribs—an exhibitionist I am not. Or, haven't been…until now, apparently.
Because I don't shy away. I don't close the blinds. I don't protest. I stare back at the man without flinching. We're close enough that I can read his expressions. He puts the cigarette to his lips and inhales, holds the smoke, spews it out his nostrils, never looking away from me.
I feel Jakob behind me. I stop breathing.
His hands carve over my belly. He cups my sex with one hand; the watching smoker freezes, hand to mouth, cigarette framed between index and middle finger.
"Let's give the man a show he won't soon forget, shall we?" he whispers into my ear, sliding a long, thick middle finger inside me.
"Yes, Jakob."
9
BEYOND THE EDGE
JAKOB
My god, what delight she is. I want to reward her until she can't see, hear, breathe, or move. I want to fuck her into the next millennium. I want to watch her tits shake as she takes my cock in that plump, pretty pussy.
Yes, plump.
She's not a slender woman. She's curvy. Soft. Thick thighs, bell-curve hips. Huge, teardrop breasts. Silky, pillowy, tender belly. A big, juicy, round ass. And a pretty pussy with plump, pink lips.
Fuckable.
Kissable.
Mine.
I feel my predilection for obsession taking hold—I try to wrestle it back into its prison and lock it up and bury it down deep.
I nearly destroyed one woman with my obsession; I will not do so to another.
Not this woman.
She's brave, she's smart, she's successful. She wields authority like a whip, and that is utterly intoxicating. She's themaster of her world, in control, arrogant, cold, and powerful. It's fucking addictive.
The fact that she very obviously craves submission is a fantasy come true. Isabel had to be taught. I had to wrest control from her, and she fought me at every turn. Victory, then, was all the sweeter because it was so hard-earned, it is true, and I do not deny it. But in retrospect, that was not consensual, and I like to think I have grown as a human since then.
Brys wants to give me what I want to take. She wouldn't admit it—she can't, I would guess. But it was clear she was willingly giving me her submission at every turn.
