Gripping her hips, I slammed back in from behind, the new angle hitting deeper. "One more," I growled, though she was already whimpering, oversensitive. My hand reached around, teasing her clit again as I fucked her hard, balls slapping against her.
She gasped, body jerking. "I can't... it's too much..."
"You can," I said, voice rough. I spanked her ass lightly, watching it jiggle, then soothed it with a rub. My thrusts grew erratic, chasing my peak while pushing her toward another.
She collapsed forward, pussy clenching wildly, a fresh gush of wetness coating me. She went limp, utterly spent, body shaking as she panted into the desk.
I followed soon after, burying deep and spilling inside her, groaning low. Hot spurts filled her, and I held her there, both of us slick with sweat.
Finally, I pulled out, watching my cum leak from her.
Chloe snapped out of her brief daze and bolted up from my desk.
She staggered a bit when her bare feet hit the floor, then started scrambling around for her clothes. Her shirt was a crumpled mess, but she yanked it on anyway, not giving a damn.
I leaned against the desk edge, hands braced on the surface, shirt hanging open, nothing tidied up, just watching her.
I'd been with plenty of women in my life, and not one had everacted like she was fleeing a disaster right after. Usually, they'd linger, trying to stretch the night, hinting at next time.
No one had ever panicked into their clothes and bolted, looking so damn regretful about sleeping with me. But Chloe Bennett was doing it with a spectacular kind of mess.
"What's the rush?" I asked.
Chloe didn't look up, wrestling with her third button. "I gotta get back to work."
Work? Was she serious?
"You took a shortcut." I tilted my head. "Since you're already here, why rush back to pretend you're grinding away? Stick around with me instead. Better return on investment for your career."
Chloe's hands froze, then she looked up, her eyes dropping to subzero.
"What the fuck did you just say?"
I raised an eyebrow. This woman's mouth was raw as hell.
"You think I slept with you for a promotion?" She finally got the last button done, smoothed her skirt, and stood tall, staring at me. She was nearly a head shorter, but her vibe erased the difference. "Enzo Falcone, your ego's off the charts. I did it 'cause I wanted to. Nothing to do with your title. You're not the only decent-looking guy in New York."
Chloe snatched my suit jacket I'd tossed on the chair and hurled it at my chest.
"Your clothes."
Then she stormed toward the door without a backward glance. Not even a side-eye.
A temp-like bottom-rung designer who'd just decked her boss, cussed out the group president in front of everyone, then offered herself in the elevator, and walked away like it was nothing.
Didn't sound like someone worth chasing, but damn, she intrigued me.
I took my time fixing my clothes until three knocks sounded at the door.
"Mr. Falcone." Katherine's voice came through, all professional as always. "The 6:30 board call is in forty minutes. Julian's press release needs your final sign-off."
"Come in."
Katherine entered, carrying a black coffee and a folder. Her gaze lingered half a second on my desk. Files that were neat were now scattered, pen holder tipped over, a photo frame face-down—Chloe had knocked it in her spasms.
The air still held a faint, damp, decadent sweetness.
But Katherine didn't twitch an eyebrow. Her face stayed blank as she set down the coffee and file, then backed out.
