She shakes her head, “Logan—”
“But I’m going to work very hard, every day, so that I can.” I close the distance between us.
Having her here doesn’t erase the weeks apart—not yet. There’s still a fissure.
“Baby.” My hand finds her waist and I pull her hard against me. She whimpers. “Baby, can I please have you back?”
Her hands press flat against my chest. Then her fingers curl in, gripping my shirt.
Our lips collide. I’d forgotten how she kisses—like she’s consuming me, like she needs me as deeply as I need her. She presses into me, her fists gripping my lapels, a sharp sound breaking from her lips as I drag her closer, pressing her heated core against my stiffening cock.
She’s always been easy to read like this. So fucking honest with her body, with all the parts of her. I get greedy, tracing the curve of her back, mapping the round shape of her hips, the generous handfuls of her ass. My hands come up to cup her tits, reveling in the weight of them before framing her ribcage. She moans against my mouth.
She tastes like champagne and cinnamon.
We break apart for air, her mouth against mine in ragged breaths. “This is my office,” she says, a little incredulous, unsteady.
“It’s yours. Everyinch,” I grunt, flexing my hips into hers.
She reaches between us, cups my cock, squeezing the violent tent between my legs. My knees nearly buckle. “Every fucking inch,” I rasp.
She yanks my tie loose, pulls my face back down to hers. Her other hand attacks my shirt buttons, nails marking my skin. Rose bites along my jaw, teeth grazing my throat.
I run my hands down the length of her thighs and gather the red dress in my fists. “Never wear anything but red dresses again.”
“You like it?” she asks, a half-smile tugging at her lips as she turns back to look at me. “Easton picked it out.”
I’ll tell her later who really bought the dress. Now, though, I’m feeling darkly possessive. “I’m grateful to Easton for a lot of things, but don’t say his fucking name right now.” The words come out rougher than I intend—a growl, almost. I want to tearthis one off her. I want to be the only man who ever sees her in red.
Because she ismine.
I lift her dress over her head, revealing the delicate lace of her black balconette bra—and nothing else. My breath catches as I stare down at the bare apex of her thighs. “Baby, why aren’t you wearing any panties?”
She smirks, shrugging. “Laundry day.”
I laugh, but the sound is rough as I unclasp her bra, letting it fall away. My belt comes undone with a sharp tug, my cock already straining against my briefs, the head nudging at my waistband.
She doesn’t wait, her hands pulling at my pants with frantic urgency, dragging my briefs down with them. The cool air hits me, but her touch is fire—her fingers wrap around my length, warm and tight, and I groan as my hips jerk forward.
She takes her time. Her palm twists slowly up my shaft, thumb dragging a slick circle of pre-cum over the head on every stroke—just enough pressure to make my hips stutter forward, just shy of what I need, as if she’s punishing me for the weeks we’ve been apart.
I slide my hands up her ribcage, rolling her nipples between my fingers, squeezing her full breasts.
God, I missed these. I can’t help but palm them, bounce them a little, mesmerized.
But I’ve had e-fucking-nough of her teasing. I grab her by the waist, spin her around, and bend her over the heavy wooden desk. The wood is sturdy, but I’m not sure it’ll survive what I’m about to do to her. With one hand between her shoulder blades, my knee parts her legs, spreading her open. She’s dripping. I take a second to drink in the sight of her—everything about this woman is a wet fucking dream, thick and impossibly perfect.
Then I thrust into her in one deep, relentless motion, and she gasps, her body tightening around me. The sensation is almost too much—her pussy clenches around my cock, my fingers digging into her hips as she lets out a sharp cry.
She’s tight. So tight.
I set a brutal pace, one hand sliding around to squeeze her tits, to hold her closer. I like the angle, but I need more. I need her closer. I need deeper, so she never lets me go. Wrapping my hand around her right thigh, I lift it, pressing her knee onto the desk to open her wider. She lets out a wail.
“You like that, baby?” I growl, pulling out and thrusting back in. Her ass and pussy gape, begging for more.
I slow my hips, lift her further onto the desk, then trace a finger along my cock before pushing it into her alongside it. I pump my finger in and out before adding a second one, as she rolls her hips against the tight strain.
“What… what are—” she starts, surprised.
