"Say it," I command, my fingers circling her, teasing, then plunging deep inside. She lets out a sharp, wet cry, her back arching, her body twisting to meet my touch. "Say you’re wrong."
"I’m... I’m not... wrong," she sobs, her fingers clawing at the desk.
I grip her hair, pulling her head back so she’s forced to look at me, but she’s staring at the ceiling, her eyes wide, glassy with need. I start to fuck her with my fingers, slow, deep, maddeningslides that make her entire body shudder. I add a third finger, stretching her, filling her, listening to the wet, rhythmic sound of my own hand working.
"You little brat," I growl, leaning down to bite the sensitive skin of her shoulder. "You smart-mouthed, infuriating little brat. You think you’re a strategist?"
"I am," she gasps, her hips bucking against my hand.
"You’re a good girl," I whisper, the praise kink digging into her defenses like a wedge. She whimpers, her entire body going limp. "You’re such a good, smart girl. You’re going to be a perfect queen one day, but right now? You’re mine. And you’re going to show me exactly how much you belong to me."
I slide out, her juices coating my hand, and I don't wait. I can’t. This woman is killing me. If I wait any second more, my dick might blow up.
I unzip, my cock springing free, thick and pulsing. I press it against her entrance, dragging the head along the length of her slit, the friction making her scream.
She reaches back, her fingers grabbing my hair, pulling me down to kiss her. I crush her lips with mine, swallowing her sound, and then I drive inside her.
It’s neither slow nor soft. I enter her with a savage, possessive force, pinning her against the table until every inch of her isfilled with me. I start to fuck her, my rhythm fast, hard, and relentless.
"That's it," I growl, my hands gripping her hips, bruising her skin, keeping her locked against me. "You’re mine. You hear me? You’re mine."
"Yes, yes," she cries, her body trembling under the force of my thrusts. "Lorcan! Oh god!"
I change the angle, my hips grinding against her, finding that perfect, agonizing spot that makes her scream. The sound is music. It’s the only thing that matters in the world right now, the sound of her falling apart, the sound of her surrender.
I pull out, leaving her aching for me, and then I slam back in, over and over, until the room is filled with the sound of our skin and the ragged, desperate noise of her breaking.
"Tell me," I growl, my teeth sinking into her shoulder. "Tell me you don't know what you're doing."
"I... I know... I know exactly... what I'm doing!" she screams, cumming all over my dick, her walls clamp down around me, squeezing, pulling, milking me.
Just then I lose it. I hit her harder, deeper, my own release clawing at my throat. I pump into her, a deep growl leaving my chest as I empty myself inside her, the heat of it scalding, possessive, complete.
I stay there, locked against her, my chest heaving, the silence of the room returning. She’s panting, her head resting on the table, her body still trembling.
I pull back, but I don't let her go. I turn her around, pulling her into my lap, her legs wrapped around my waist. She’s flushed, her hair a wild, tangled disaster, her eyes heavy and unfocused. She looks at me, and for a second, I see the girl from Ireland. But then, the fire comes back.
She straightens, her hands resting on my chest, her fingers tracing the ink on my skin. She looks... hungry.
She leans over, her hair falling over her face, and looks at the schematics on the table.
"The eastern flank," she says, her voice breathless but steady. "It’s still exposed."
I look at the screen. I look at her.
I let out a low, rough laugh, pulling her closer to my chest.
"You’re a nightmare," I whisper.
"And you’re a stubborn ass," she says, leaning her head against my shoulder.
I reach out, and with one flick of my finger, I drag the icon. I shift the mobile unit. I close the flank.
I fix the layout.
"There," I say.
"Better," she says, her lips turning up in a small, triumphant smile.
