She lowers her forehead to the table and taps it a few times, groaning. “That’s what a sane person would do.”
“I asked if that’s what you want.” I pinch her flesh.
“Ouch. You know what I want,” she snaps.
“I want to hear it.” My hand soothes the spot and continues up her smooth skin, the rasp of her fishnets a delicious scrape against my knuckles.
I finally reach high enough for her to gasp. Fuck. She’s not wearing underwear. “Have you come here to tease me with your naked pussy?”
“I came here wearing a cardigan and pearls to repel you.”
“And how is the pearl-clutching get up working for you?” I drag my finger through her heat, slow enough to make her pant.
Instead of an answer, she pushes into my hand, seeking friction. My cock responds immediately.
“Where is your underwear, Roxy?” I tease her bud with the pad of my finger.
“I ran out since you keep stealing them.”
I chuckle, and enjoy her whimper as I push two fingers into her. Fuck. I wish it were my cock.
“I like you bare like this. And I would like it even more if you walked around with my cum drippingdown these beautiful legs while you order people around, managing the office.”
“You’re sick.”
“What can I say, you bring the best out of me, Little Thunder.”
I can’t curl my fingers at this angle, so I scissor them, and Roxy bites her forearm to stifle a moan.
She inhales sharply. Her body responds beautifully: hips tipping back, breath breaking, fingers clawing the desk.
“Please, please, please,” she chants into her arm.
“Still think we should leave?” I withdraw my hand.
She shakes her head, a helpless motion. “You’re?—”
I push back in, and whatever she was going to say dissolves into a sound she probably didn’t mean to make.
“Liam, please…”
“That’s my girl. Beg, baby.” I snake my other hand around to massage her clit, and her legs give in. She sags against the table.
I slow down my movements, anchoring her there. Not letting her chase it. Not yet.
“Liam,” she warns, but I pin her with my hips, not letting her move. My cock throbs between us, but I’m too focused on her.
Her reactions.
Her stifledsounds.
Her surrender.
“Easy, baby. I didn’t say you could fall apart.”
She whimpers, the sound sharp and wrecked. It’s the most heady, empowering feeling, to get Roxy to the point where she balances on that edge where control and surrender blur into something dangerous.
My hand moves again, alternating the tempo, drawing it out until her entire body is wound tight around the waiting.
