Grafton Reynolds fills every empty space in my life, but still leaves me greedy for more. I want everything he has to give me, and I want to give it all right back to him.
Startling me from my thoughts, he drops to his knees behind me, his hands soothingly rubbing over my thighs and lower back. He unhooks the ribbons from my stockings with quick fingers, and then he’s tugging at the flimsy waistband of my panties, slowly easing them down my thighs.
I blow out a slow breath, trying to steady my heartbeat. “There’s no…” I start, affecting a fearful tone. “There are no cameras in here, are there?”
Grafton pauses, my thong tangled around my knees, his face close enough that I can feel every hot breath on my already soaked flesh. “And if there are?” he demands. “Will you deny me the pleasure of watching you over and over again?” He clucks his tongue disapprovingly. “I thought you said you’d do anything, Lynne.”
He acts like he’s going to tug my panties back up, and I cry out. “No, no! You’re right. I’m yours, and I’ll do anything,” I hesitate, fully immersed in my role. “As long as it’s just for you, sir. If anyone else saw it…”
Grafton hums, and then my thong is around my ankles, and he’s lifting one foot at a time, pulling them off. “I don’t share, Lynley,” he says quietly, voice serious. “You’re mine, and that won’t ever change.” The reassurance settles into my bones, firm and unyielding. There’s nothing this man wouldn’t do to protect me, even in a fantasy scene.
Every thought scatters as he leans forward. His mouth is on me, licking and sucking my clit until my entire body is throbbing with pleasure. His fingers move, spearing into my pussy—two fingers, fucking into me with force, but I’m already ready for him, primed and embarrassingly wet.
Grafton uses his other hand to hold me in place, murmuring in satisfaction when a keening cry leaves my mouth. He doesn’t let up until my walls are clamping down on his fingers, and he grazes his teeth against my clit. My vision whites out, my body going tense as I go to crash over that cliff?—
But then he’s gone, yanking his fingers out of me and disappearing. My elbows give way, and I collapse onto his desk, my stomach bellowing with each heavy breath.
“What…” I demand breathlessly, voice hoarse. I push myself up and find Grafton already on the couch—the same one from that day, when we shared our first lunch together. He’s finished opening his pants and has pulled his thick cock out, jacking himself lazily as he watches me.
“Lose the bra,” he commands gruffly, his lips glistening with my arousal. “And come here.”
I’m tempted to ignore him, my body thrumming and onedge. My fingers twitch, desperate to delve between my legs and finish myself off, but the way he’s watching me makes me hesitate. I know it’ll feel better coming from him, and my eyes drop to his cock, watching as pre-cum slicks the head.
“Yes, sir,” I whisper, and he smirks wickedly. I deftly unclip my bra, slowly sliding it down my arms and to the ground. I cup my breasts, thumbs flicking over my nipples before sliding them up and into my hair, lifting the heavy strands off my neck. The move pushes my breasts into the air. Grafton’s mouth parts, the color in his face darkening.
I bend down to slide my heels off, but he barks out, “No!” I don’t rise, breasts hanging low as his intense stare locks on mine. “Leave them on. And the garter.” His tongue runs over his full bottom lip, eyes hooded. “Come here, baby.”
I strut toward him, hips swinging, and a low hum escapes his chest. “Fuck me,” he breathes, breaking his role, and I can’t stop the triumphant smile.
“That was the plan, Mr. Reynolds,” I tell him as I step between his legs, dropping to my knees. He lets me bat his hand away, replacing it with mine, wrapping my fingers around his steely length.
Grafton lifts his arms over the back of the couch, looking like a king on his throne as he stares down at me, waiting for my next move. More arousal pools between my legs, slicking my sex, and I shift, trying to get pressure where I need it most, but it’s impossible.
I slowly slide my hand up and down his shaft, twisting my wrist in the way I’ve learned he likes, changing my tempo up before he can ever get used to it. He’s silent, watching me with an unreadable expression. His chest is moving faster and faster, sweat beading his hairline.
“Oh,” I tell him, fluttering my lashes. “You’re so big, sir. I don’t know…”
Grafton grins wickedly. “Don’t worry, darling. You’ll get used to it.” He palms the back of my head, gently but forcefully tugging me down. I don’t fight him, taking the crown of his cock into my mouth and suckling gently. I swirl my tongue around, dipping into the slit, and stroking the underside of his dick. His breath catches, his hand tightening in my hair, and I close my eyes as sparks of pain race along my scalp, down my body, and straight to my clit.
“Stop teasing me, Lynne,” he growls. “And finger your pretty little cunt while you suck my cock.”
Wide, shocked eyes meet his, but I don’t pull away, forcing more of him into my mouth until my throat convulses around him and tears spring to my eyes, my free hand dipping down and swirling around my swollen clit.
I moan around his cock, bobbing my head, taking more of him every time. He lets me set the pace, but then, as I’m going down, he jerks his hips up and his dick slides fully into my throat. I choke, focusing on breathing through my nose, tears tracking down my cheeks as I dip my fingers low to trail over his balls and the sensitive skin behind them. He throbs in my mouth, and I can taste the salty musk of him as I drag my head back, his cock heavy on my tongue.
“Enough,” he says roughly. “I don’t want to come in your mouth.” He tugs me off him, ignoring my sound of protest, and then he’s yanking me up onto the couch, my knees on either side of his clothed hips. “Ride me,” he orders, and a shiver skates down my spine, already knowing I’ll do anything for this man if he talks to me in that tone.
I look at him under my spiky, wet lashes, knowing my lips are swollen and red. “I don’t know if we should bedoing this…” I glance toward the door again. His fingers clamp around my jaw, yanking me back to him.
“Too late for that now, darling,” he drawls, tapping my ass. “Lift.” I do as he says, rising on my knees, and he reaches between us, grabbing his cock and sliding it through my folds—forward and back, forward and back, slicking with my wetness until his shaft is glistening. Every time he nudges my clit, a shudder racks my frame, and I slam my hands down on his shoulders, grinding against him as everything goes hazy.
“Please,” I beg, and I’m not playing anymore. “Please, Grafton. I need—” I throw my head back when he thumps his cock against my clit, my vision going white.
“You don’t wanna play with me anymore, baby?” he teases, his mouth tugging up. He smacks my clit again, and I cry out, but then the pressure is gone too quickly, not enough to get me where I need to be. “You think you deserve to come, hmm?” he asks in a low voice. “Coming to my office, wearing these—” He lets go of my face to slide a finger into my garter belt, pulling it taut and letting it snap back. “I know you planned this. You came here wanting to get fucked, huh? You wanted to know what it feels like to get railed in an office by your boss like a whore.”
The words are demeaning, and my cheeks flush. There’s another part—a smaller, secret part—that revels in it, wanting to own it. I don’t mind being a whore, but only for this man.
Grafton’s watching me carefully, taking in my reaction. He’s always been able to read me well, and his smirk widens. I lick my lips, but I really am done playing now. He moves away from my clit again, teasingly pressing his cock to my entrance, dipping in and then pulling back. Before hecan go far, I slam myself down, impaling myself on his length.
