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“Damien,” I plead, but he doesn’t let up. If anything, his fingers become more determined, working their way past the thin barrier. “Damien,” I say again, with a little more force. My palms push against his chest as he finds my entrance. The tips of my fingers curl at his intrusion. My lips part just as he ends our kiss and pulls away, placing his mouth on my neck.
“A girl as innocent as yourself shouldn’t be here. Especially in the hands of a man like me.” He grazes along my flesh with his teeth. I want to tell him he’s right. Push him away and run. At the same time, I want to beg and cry for him to continue until I explode into a million pieces. He begins to use force as he slips one thick finger through my wet folds. With each thrust, his hold on my ponytail tightens. As if he wants to cause me just as much pain as he does pleasure. The feeling is almost euphoric. My eyes squeeze shut, and when I open them, I find him staring at me, his amber irises gone, obsidian in their wake.
“Is this what you wanted?” he continues, stroking me. “Is this what you think happens here?” He adds two fingers this time when entering me. “Were you hoping to get caught so I could teach you a lesson?”
He’s trying to work me up. Prove me wrong. I become disobedient under his spell. I attempt to wiggle out of his grip, but he only spreads my thighs wider, planting himself harder against me. His two fingers become three, and his slow pumps become quick, powerful jabs. Raising my hands, I reach for his hair, grasping tightly. His hair is thick and still wet between the clutches of my fingers.
“You enjoy giving pain as much as receiving. I’ll take note.” His words anger me even more. I want to pull his hair out, but my restraint on him is slowly becoming less trying to hurt him and more of a tool to help hold on to whatever is happening with my body. A feeling of tightness creeps up my stomach. My skin all too quickly becomes overly sensitive, and with each push, shove, dominating thrust, he takes me to such an unfamiliar place. A few more seconds pass and my walls squeeze around his fingers as my own hold his hair for dear life.
All too quickly the moment of pure bliss wanes. Damien releases me, and I almost tip off the desk. Immediately, he steps away from me, putting ample space between us. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” His voice is gravelly and deep. He moves to the window and runs his hands through his hair, refusing to look at me.
“It’s…okay.” Okay? That was the best you had? And really, is it? I have no idea. I’m so confused. He just spanked me, for crying out loud. Was it horrible? Yes. It hurt like hell. Did I totally hate it? I’m afraid to even answer that. The way he coddled my bruising skin once he was done felt overly intimate. Yet, he’s a complete stranger. And then what I just allowed to happen…Oh God. My cheeks heat as shame washes over me at the way I so easily allowed him to touch me. A man who’s probably with a new woman every single night. If not more than one. Embarrassed and now feeling the cool breeze against my bare thighs, I jump off the desk and slip my ruined jeans up my legs while willing a hole to swallow me alive.
“I need you to leave.” He doesn’t spare a glance at me, but his voice is telling. He’s back to being mad. I’m not sure he was ever not mad, but now, he’s possibly even angrier.
“Not without what I came for,” I spit out, trying to button my jeans, but failing at the ripped seam. I’m just as guilty for allowing what happened between us, but I’m certainly not taking that spanking session for nothing. He turns at my reply. His eyes warm my blood as they penetrate me. “I told you I need that contract. I’ll do anything to get it. Which means I’m not leaving until you hand it over.”
He stares at me for some time. Maybe I’ve broken through his thick skull. A few more seconds. God, please just give me the stupid contract and pretend this day never happened. He begins to move, and I flinch, my body tensing. He goes to the bookshelf at the far end of the room, unlatches a hidden compartment, and pulls out a stack of papers.
Yes, yes, yes, yes…
Turning back, he tosses the thick stack onto the desk. “This what you want?”
Yes! “Thank you.” I step forward to grab it, but his arm reaches out, his warm fingers wrapping around my wrist.
