He watches.
The attention is worse than being touched. More deliberate. His eyes move over me as if he is taking inventory of his belongings, which should make me angrier than it does.
I reach behind me for my bra clasp.
“Slowly,” he says.
I unfasten it, but his eyes stay on my face.
The rest follows. My jeans. My underwear. I’m left standing in front of him, completely bare, while he sits in his chair. His gaze feels primal.
“I didn’t tell you to stop,” he says.
“There’s nothing left.”
“Mm.” He stands.
He doesn’t go around the desk. He comes directly forward,reaching me in two steps. Now close enough that I have to tip my chin up to maintain eye contact, his hand closes around the back of my thigh.
“Up,” he commands.
I sit on the desk.
The wood is cool against the backs of my thighs. He drops to his knees. His hands wrap around my thighs and pull me forward. My legs rise over his shoulders, and then his mouth —oh God.
His hands hold me in place.
“How can you taste so good, Elizabeth?”
The pressure builds and soon tips over the edge. I collapse forward, one hand finding his shoulder, my moans lost somewhere in the office air as I come hard over his mouth.
When I can breathe again, I ask, “Does that… No. Is that sufficient?”
He looks up at me from his knees.
“Not even remotely,” he says.
He stands. His hands go to his belt.
Still half-seated on the desk, I watch him, my weight resting on my palms. The unhurried movement steals my ability to think.
He positions himself at my entrance and looks at my face.
He enters slowly, eyes still fixed on my expression. I feel every inch, and he watches through all of it. The intimacy is almost unbearable.
When he’s fully in, I exhale the breath I’ve been holding since the belt.
He moves in long, slow strokes that map the full length of him. I grip the edge of the desk so hard my knuckles go white.
Then it changes.
The pace shifts to more demanding, deeper,his hands tightening on my hips. His control comes loose, incrementally and then all at once.
He says against my throat, low and rough, “It feels so good inside you.” He takes another breath, delivering another thrust. “I could do this all day.”
“Rolan—”
His name comes out at a volume that barely qualifies as a word.
