Page 87 of The American


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“And if I say no?”

I smile. It’s dark. “Try.” I can smell her desire. Taste it in the air between us. “Go on, baby. Try to say no to me.”

Her eyes drop to my lips briefly before she moves fast, attacking me, hands in my hair, cupping my face, her tongue owning me. Her kiss totally fucking owning me.

And I’m home.

I walk her to the desk and get her on the wood, keeping up our kiss as I rip her blouse apart and she yanks my shirt open, buttons popping and flying everywhere. The anticipation. The desperation. Fucking hell, this office could go up in flames. She starts on my belt, wrenching it open as I push her blouse down her arms, forcing her to release the belt, but she’s soon back to work, her mission to get to me ruling her. I’m throbbing.

And when she reaches past my boxers and wraps her hand around me, I have to break the kiss, yelling, the pressure immense, the pleasure like nothing else. I’m fucking dizzy. I look at her smudged lipstick. Her wild hair. Her drowsy eyes. “Stroke me,” I whisper, grunting when she pulls a slow caress. “Fuck,” I hiss, my trousers dropping to my ankles. I need to be inside her before I come right here in her palm. I knock her hand away and push her down to the wood, pulling her leathers open and yanking them down her legs, taking her heels off with them. Hands behind her thighs, I tug her down, watching as I slide right in and she inhales. I look up at her tits. Her black bra. I know my limits. I know hers. I leave her boobs and slide out, watching intently as my cock slips free, glistening.

And I slide back in.

Out.

In.

Steady, slow, and she moans, writhing languidly. My skin tingles, buzzes. I take my thumb to her clit and start rolling it softly around to help her along—I need her with me.

“Danny,” she whispers, clinging to the edge of the desk.

I see it rising in her, the heat, the pleasure, and the pressure. My balls throb, my shaft pulses. “Fuck,” I wheeze, increasing my pace. “Fuck, Rose.”

“Yes!”

“Rose!”

Faster.

“Fuck, yes!”

Faster.

“Rose, tell me!”

“Shit, Danny!”

Faster.

“Oh my God!”

Faster.

“Rose!”

“Yes!”

“Fuck!”

“I’m coming!”

I apply more pressure on her clit and smash into her like a depraved madman, and it hits me like a fucking bulldozer, taking me out, making my body fold over her to deal with the attack of pleasure, my chokes real, my head spinning, her screams ringing in my ears. “Jesus,” I gasp, being milked dry by her muscles.

“I can’t breathe,” she pants, heaving beneath me, my head rolling where it’s lying on her chest. “Fucking hell, Danny.”

I blink, trying to clear my vision, the aftermath of my orgasm still rippling through me. I grit my teeth, the intensity not letting up, as I roll into her gently but firmly. I’m still coming, and Rose is still shaking under me. I drag my eyes up to see her sweaty face. “That’s what happens when you deprive me.”

She smiles, if mildly, stroking through my hair, and I shift up, framing her head with my forearms. “I’m going to find him, Rose,” I whisper, not feeling I need to go into details. She knows.

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