Smack.
The sound was shocking. Sharp. Loud.
Tessa cried out, a startled, affronted yelp, and tried to scramble forward.
"Stay," I roared, grabbing her hips and hauling her back.
Smack.
"Anders!" she gasped, her body bowing, her hips instinctively twitching.
"Ground yourself," I commanded, striking her again. Not to injure, but to mark. To sting. To draw the blood to the surface and force her focus into a single, stinging point of reality. "Right here, Tessa. Feel that? That is real. That is happening now."
Smack. Smack.
"Yes!" she sobbed, dropping her head to the desk, her forehead resting on her crossed arms. Her hips began to roll, grinding against the empty air, seeking. "I feel it. I feel it."
"Good."
I smoothed my hand over the reddened skin, soothing the sting I had created. My touch was reverent now, possessive. I traced the dip of her spine, feeling the tremors racking her frame.
"You aren't alone on this stage," I murmured, leaning down to bite the sensitive skin at the base of her neck, right over the scent gland. I didn't break the skin, but I scraped my teeth against it, a warning. "I am right behind you."
"You... you stayed seated," she whispered, the old trauma surfacing even now.
"I know," I admitted, the guilt tasting like ash on my tongue. "I sat in my chair and I watched you break because I was terrified of the mess."
I adjusted myself, rolling the protection on, feeling the savage, painful pressure of my own arousal. I was hard enough to break glass.
"I'm standing up now, Tessa."
I grabbed her hips, my fingers digging into the muscle, bruising the skin.
"And I love the mess."
I drove into her.
It wasn't the fluid, artistic slide of Simon. It was structural. Absolute. I buried myself in her to the hilt in a single thrust, forcing the air from her lungs in a shouted gasp.
"Anders!"
She was so tight it made my vision blur. The interior of her was a velvet vice, hot and slick and clamping down on me with a desperation that mirrored my own.
"Take it," I snarled, my forehead resting against her spine, my sweat mingling with hers. "Take every inch of it."
I began to move. Efficient and punishing.
I drove her forward with every thrust, her body sliding on the smooth wood of the desk until she hit the edge of the computer setup.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
The rhythm was a war drum.
"Is this better?" I demanded, punctuating the question with a snap of my hips that made her scream. "Is this better than silence? Is this better than the polite applause?"
"Yes!" she wailed, reaching back blindly, her nails clawing at my thighs. "It fills it! It fills the noise!"
"I am the noise," I growled.
