Page 50

As I stand behind my desk, I realize my laptop isn’t on. A telltale sign I haven’t actually been here. I snap the lid closed.

Across from me, Brioni bites her lip. She’s suddenly wary. For a moment it’s like I’ve been caught watching porn. And when her gentle voice floats through my barren office, I wish she had assumed it was porn.

“Your first greatest weakness is your devotion to… work,” she guesses.

I can’t fault her for thinking it. I was working late tonight, just not in the office. And I am devoted to my role as firstborn son. Which entails work, responsibilities, lives, blood, and more work.

“But it’s not a weakness,” she adds softly. I shake my head at her misunderstanding. Circling back around my stupidly large desk, I move to stand in front of her. I grip her by the shoulders.

“Work isn’t my greatest weakness.” As I say it, I look deep into her eyes.

Those doe-like browns scan my face. But I still don’t think she understands.

Silently, I lean away from her, reaching for a switch on the side of my desk. When I toggle it, Brioni doesn’t see what happens. Her dark blonde eyebrows pinch together. She’s so beautiful when she’s confused, so openly naive.

I flick my gaze behind her, a hint to what’s in store. She looks over her shoulder to see that I’ve turned the inner wall opaque, concealing us from the rest of the office. It’s so late there’s no one else here anyway. But she gets the message all the same.

For these past few nights, I’ve been laying her down on her new table as soon as I get home. With her legs draped over my shoulders, I’ve focused all of my attention on her sweet, sweet cunt. But I haven’t fucked her since the night of our engagement party. No matter how painfully my cock throbs for her, I’ve held myself back.

Tonight, in my office, will be no different. I’m greedy to feast on her pussy, greedy to taste how good I make her feel. Mine. Knowing the power I have to make her come on my tongue is its own type of thrill.

By the time Brioni turns back to face me, I’m unbuttoning her coat. Pushing it off her shoulders, taking it from her to hang up on the coat rack. When I return to her, she’s unbuttoning her blouse. She’s so eager for my tongue that my cock stiffens.

“Stop.” My throat has gone dry, and my voice comes out rough.

Her hands freeze at my harshness. I don’t apologize. I need this woman to understand what she does to me.

“It’s like unwrapping a present,” I say, my voice still a rough growl. Her breath hitches.

“I’ve seen you unwrap presents.” She sounds timid. Not afraid, but shaky with anticipation.

I seize the neckline of her shirt with both hands and rip it apart. Buttons fly across the room. They scatter, and the sight of my desperation stokes my need to taste her even higher.

Brioni’s skirt has hidden hooks, but it’s easy enough to tear those off too. Once her skirt hits the floor, she steps out of the fabric circle. Tiny, shy steps. She tries to step out of her heels too.

“Keep them on,” I say gruffly.

Seeing her long, bare legs in those shoes makes my cock strain against my zipper. I shift uncomfortably without touching myself, but her gaze drops to my crotch all the same. When she sees how hard I am for her, she sucks in a breath. The muscles of her thighs tighten, and I can’t wait to spread them apart.

She shivers as I tug her panties down to the floor, then I pull off her torn shirt and toss it aside too. I let her undo her bra herself as I shuck off my own jacket, the wool now unbearably hot. She hesitates, as if waiting for my permission. Good.

“Take it off,” I instruct.

She lets her bra fall to the floor, then tries to cover herself. But I grab her wrists to pull them away from her breasts. I deserve the full view of my Brioni. My voice is deep, guttural as I tell her how perfect her tits are. Her mouth falls open, as if to protest my vulgar language. But no protests come out as I cup her breasts, flicking her pebbled nipples with my thumbs. The pink buds tighten further, perfect little peaks wanting the pleasure I give her so badly.

Brioni’s shallow gasps become a squeal as I grab her around the waist. I cut off the noise by pressing my mouth to hers. As she welcomes me with her tongue, I walk her backward until her ass hits my desk. I push the box of cookies aside, then lift her onto my desk and press her down onto the dark wood.

She squirms beneath me, my tongue in her mouth a nice little preview for her. She’s so eager for it. So when she reaches to unbutton my shirt, I’m mildly surprised.

“I want to see you,” she whispers, her deft fingers working down my stomach. “I like seeing your muscles.”

I feel my eyebrows go up. But I don’t hesitate. I stand up, tearing off the rest of my shirt like a werewolf, more buttons flying. When I peel off my undershirt, Brioni’s biting her lip again. I love the way her eyes scan my torso, my arms.

I brace one hand to either side of her on the desk, then lower myself like a push-up to kiss her. She runs her soft hands over the flexed muscles of my arms, giving me a moan of satisfaction as I kiss her. The sound causes a vibration between our mouths, and I realize I’m groaning in response. Our chests heave in tandem, her perfect breasts swelling against me.

When we break apart for air, Brioni flutters her gaze up at me.

“Fuck me, Liam.”