When we were both naked, he pulled me close, skin on skin, his cock hard against mine. “Missed this. Missed you.”
“Missed you too.” I wrapped my hand around both of us, stroking slow. His head fell to my shoulder, breathing already ragged.
“Need you inside me,” he said against my neck. “Been thinking about it constantly.”
The raw need in his voice made my cock jump. “Desk?”
“Yeah.” He was already moving, clearing space with one arm, shoving aside papers and pencils. “Need something to hold on to.”
I grabbed supplies from my drawer and slicked my fingers. When I pressed one inside him, he groaned, hips rocking back.
“More,” he demanded. “I've been cleared for full activity. I'm not fragile.”
“Bossy bottom,” I muttered, but added a second finger, working him open.
“Damn right.” He braced himself against the desk, pushing back against my hand. “Come on, Dusty. Stop treating me like I'll break.”
“Your shoulder—”
“Is fine. My ass is what needs attention.” He looked back at me over his shoulder, eyes dark with want. “Now.”
I couldn't help laughing even as I added a third finger, watching him take it, watching him open up for me. “God, you're beautiful like this.”
“Less talking, more fucking.”
“So demanding.” But I pulled my fingers free, slicked my cock, lined myself up.
The first press inside made us both groan. He was tight, hot, perfect. I pushed in slow despite his impatient sounds, letting him adjust, feeling him relax around me.
“Move,” he demanded when I was seated deep. “Dusty, I swear—”
I pulled back and thrust forward, hitting deep. His back arched, a rough sound torn from his throat.
“Like that,” he gasped. “Exactly like that.”
I set a rhythm, steady and deep, watching his knuckles go white where he gripped the desk. The office filled with the delicious sounds we made, skin on skin, his ragged breathing, the desk creaking under our combined weight.
“Touch yourself,” I told him, one hand on his hip, the other braced beside his on the desk.
“Who's bossy now?” But his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking in time with my thrusts.
“You love it.”
“Yeah.” His voice broke. “I do. Love you.”
The words pushed me deeper, harder. “Love you too. So fucking much.”
His breathing changed, rhythm faltering. “Close. Right there—”
“Me too.” I adjusted the angle, hitting that spot inside him that made him curse.
He came with a shout, clenching around me, painting the desk. The sensation pulled me after, orgasm slamming through me as I came deep inside him.
We stayed like that for a long moment, both breathing hard. When I pulled out, he turned and pulled me against his chest, both arms wrapping around me now that he could.
“Love you,” he murmured into my hair.
“Love you too.” I pressed my face against his neck, breathing him in. “Can't believe you came back.”
