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"Don't you fucking dare," he growls as he grabs my waist, nails digging into my flesh, a stark contrast of the soft exploration he continues with his left hand. He tugs at the strap of my tank top, then follows suit with my bra. After what seems like an eternity of staring at my tits, he finally rolls a nipple into his mouth, his tongue slowly circling my areola, then clenching the bud in between his teeth. I hiss, pain and pleasure blurring, much like the lines of this relationship Tomas and I have formed. I can't take it anymore, and pull a hand down, nails digging into the back of his neck sharply, daring to leave a small, secret souvenir for both of us to prove this moment lived outside of our fantasies.
"You're my forbidden fruit, Olivia. You're the apple hanging in the paradise that I want to bite, again and again, until I can't taste anything but you." The nickname, the filthy words, the promise of orgasm–it's all too much. My clit aches and my pulse sounds in my ears. I writhe against the wall and DeLuca's muscular thighs. When I shove my hand underneath my skirt, he pulls it back up. A whimper breaks loose, but he looks down at me and smirks.
"Tell me to stop, Olivia. I don't think I can unless you tell me to.” He sighs into my neck.
“I can’t tell you that, Tomas. I’m not the voice of reason you’re looking for. Please," I beg.
He chuckles darkly. "Tell me, Olivia. If I pull back the waistband of those panties, am I going to find your needy little cunt desperate for me?"
"Yes, except you won't find any panties," I rasp against him. Some distant part of me is semi-conscious of the fact anybody could be outside of the door eavesdropping and wondering why we're in here together. The possibility of being found like this should terrify me, but mostly it amplifies my need.
"Remind me. Which hand do you use to finger fuck your pretty little pussy?"
“Left.” I grind against him impatiently. He gives me a wicked smile as he hears the sharp intake of breath. God, if I don't fucking come, I'm going to combust.
"Now, since you've been such a good girl, I'm going to release you on one condition. Can you do one thing for me?"
"Anything," I gasp.
"Make yourself come for me. I could watch it all day. Do you realize the chokehold you have on me?” His tone and the way he has me pinned against the wall doesn’t leave room for argument.
"And if I don't?"
He schools his face into indifference and shrugs. "Suit yourself. Either you take care of things yourself so I can look at how fucking beautiful you are when you come or suffer through the rest of the day trying to grind yourself on every chair you sit on." He releases my wrists and holds both sides of my face, his mouth still hovering painfully close and distant to my heated skin.
"Show me, apple. Lift up your dress." I do as I'm told and hike my dress up just a fraction, revealing my bare skin. Fingers trembling, sighing heavily as the pads of my fingers make contact with my clit.
"Good girl. Is that how you like to rub your clit, or are you holding out on me? You played with yourself so desperately last night. Remember that?”
I grind against my fingers harder, pleading for relief. I'm getting closer, the pleasure rising in my core like a tsunami forming off the coast. He wraps his hand over my throat, holding it there with firm pressure. His soft voice fills my ear, the sensation tickling me. "You're safe with me, Olivia. I won't hurt you. Unless you ask me to do so, and you better ask me nicely if you do."
The tsunami hurls itself to the shoreline, sweeping me in the current. My orgasm is so intense my legs buckle. Tomas steadies me with a firm grip, his touch guiding me through the waves as I search for solid ground. His hold on me loosens, and I slump in a heap to the gray carpet. He looks at me smugly. I would say he was satisfied if the outline of his cock wasn't glaringly obvious through his navy blue dress pants. I reach out instinctively, wanting to trace the outline of it with my fingertips. Before I can reach his cock, he grabs my hand. The evidence of my orgasm is still glistening in the light. He brings the hand to his mouth and studies my face. Holding my gaze, he sucks each finger one-by-one, making a popping noise for show as he releases them. My arousal returns with a vengeance.
A loud knock on the door breaks the trance we're both in. What is it with this room and visitors? I look at him, panicked, waiting for direction. He looks startled, but recovers quickly.
"Under the desk," he mouths as he points to the floor. I nod slowly, forcing a breath, and retreat to my hiding spot. He spreads a stack of papers across his desk before running his palms down his shirt and the front of his pants, trying to smooth away any wrinkles or evidence of our indecent behavior. His furrowed brow gives away the anxiety that he's trying to downplay on my behalf. I take a deep breath as he walks to the door. He unlocks it and pulls the heavy wooden door open swiftly. I hold my breath, almost entirely convinced that my father is going to walk through it again and drag me out from underneath this desk by my hair.
"Uhh… I had this room reserved for the Tri-Delta quarterly meeting. Is it, like, no longer available?" DeLuca blinks at the blonde, who is promptly turning as red as a beet. It's a moment before he looks at his watch and speaks. "I teach an afternoon class here. The earliest the room can be reserved is 3pm, and it's only 2:15. You'll need to come back."
"Oh, right. It's just that I really need to decorate for our meeting." DeLuca purses his lips. "Sorry." When it's clear he's not going to budge, she sighs.
"Don't you like, have an office to work in?" I stifle my laugh as he closes the door in her face, fastening the bolt before strolling back to me. He reaches down and grabs hold of each of my arms, ready to pull me up.
"Wait, let me stay on my knees for a little bit," I protest.
"Not yet, apple."
"I'm already on my knees. Let me beg."
He looks at his watch and gives a resigned sigh. "Better get to it quickly."
Chapter Seventeen
Tomas
Ican’tsayno.I couldn’t even if I wanted to, as Olivia's hands deftly unzip my pants. My knees threaten to buckle as she licks her lips in anticipation. My erection springs free and the throbbing intensifies as I take in the shy expression and unmistakable lust on her face. Her fist wraps around my shaft, red nails shining up at me. I groan as she strokes me, my need becoming more wanton with each pump.
"My control is snapping, Miss Hamilton," I grit out. Her eyes sparkle mischievously, like she's a spawn of Lilith herself, and she comes to life. She refuses to break my gaze as her tongue darts out to lick the sensitive underside of my shaft, and I hiss at the overwhelming sensation. Her smile turns increasingly wicked as I fist her hair without any of the restraint I had mustered up yesterday. I grip my desk for stability with my free hand.
