Page 25 of At His Beck & Call

That sound has me coming undone already. To hear this huge man vocalize his pleasure is intoxicating.

He pulls back, as I let out another tiny cry, looking down at him in shocked amazement. My confusion and surprise must be written all over my face because he gives a low little huff of laughter.

“Alright?” he asks. I nod, and he sits back on his heels. “Another rule. I need you to use your words.”

“Yes,” I say breathlessly.

“And I also need you to be as quiet as possible at the same time. Say what you need to, but no loud noises. This office is soundproof—I need it to be as quiet as possible when I’m focusing on work—but I don’t trust it one hundred percent, and I don’t need anyone to know what happens after hours in here. Do you understand?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“I’d like to try something else,” he says, reaching over to one of the lower shelves of the bookcase beside me and lifting one of the bronze ornaments off the surface. It’s small, egg-shaped, and I immediately realize what it is the second he has it in his hand.

“Would you let me put this inside you? I’d like to see you come apart for me.”

I shudder, looking at it with a ripple of unease. I haven’t had anything inside me for over a year. Will it hurt? It’s small, but still.

“Yes or no? It is quite all right if it is a no. I’m happy to continue on like this.”

I keep staring at it for what feels like an endless moment, and then I finally nod.

“Yes. I think so.” I manage, and the way his lips curve up in satisfaction makes me want to say yes to everything he proposes.

I want to make him look like that all the time.

He stands, holding the toy out to my mouth, a hand coming up to gently encircle my neck. It’s a soft touch, barely there, but it’s proprietary, solid. Grounding me.

“Get it wet for me, Lissa.”

He rubs the edge of it against my lips until I open them, pushing it inside my mouth. It’s cold, colder than I expected, and I look up at him, uncertain what he wants.

His dark eyes spear me with such want I can barely breathe, moving my tongue around it as he pushes it into my mouth, back and forth, soft then hard, his expression difficult to read, but the lust in his eyes is undeniable.

“Well done.” He pulls it out. “I’ll go slow.”

He lowers it toward my splayed thighs, but as soon as it touches my skin, I tense up.

“Do you need me to stop?” I shake my head. “Words, Lissa.”

“No,” I say. “I just…” I stop. I can’t say anything helpful like ‘it’s been years’ to him. It would make no sense that I haven’t had sex in?—

Ohfuck.

The tip of it pushes into me, slow and steady, widening and thickening as he keeps pushing, his hand still on my throat.

I groan, my hips rising as he keeps pushing. I want it harder, suddenly. There’s something at the back of my mind that needs him to shove it into me, make it hurt, make me feelsomething.

Then he does it. As if, in that second, he can read my thoughts, and suddenly the whole thing is inside me in one,harsh thrust. His hand moves from my throat, covering my mouth as I let out a low scream.

Holy shit, that feels good.

“Are you okay?”

I nod, but it seems as if he can read how much I love it on my face; he doesn’t need words now.

How can this man, who barely knows me, read me so well already?

He starts to thrust, and I lose my mind completely. I’m writhing on the makeshift seat, his hand always somewhere on my body, my throat, my mouth, caressing my breasts as he pleasures me.