Page 71 of Slow Burn

I cup them in both hands, gently squeezing and teasing her. She arches into my touch again, and I bring my head down, sucking a nipple into my mouth. I swirl my tongue around the peak.

“Fuck,” she hisses, her hips writhing on the desk. “I want you, Beck. I want all of you.”

She reaches for my belt buckle but I brush her hand away.

“You know we can’t go there yet,” I say in a hushed tone. But even as I decline her advances on me, I find my hands undoing the button of her jeans. “I’ll give you everything I have, Lyla. I meant that.”

She holds my gaze as I slip my hand inside her pants, beneath the lace band on her thong, and run my fingers up her centre. “That just doesn’t seem fair,” she whimpers.

“Life ain’t fair, Trouble,” I say. It’s downright torturous for me. I want nothing more than to yank Lyla’s jeans down and fuck her here on this desk, to watch her perfect pussy take me as I drive into her. But I can’t. That’s one boundary I still won’t cross. “You’ll just have to learn to accept it.”

I remove my hand and kneel in front of her, tugging her pants down around her hips and taking them off. She’s completely bared to me, pink pussy lips shiny with her arousal.

This time I don’t tease her. I place my mouth over her slick sex, sucking until she finally breaks eye contact and lets her head tip back. I lift one of her legs over my shoulder, giving myself more access to her.

I lick up her wet centre, the taste of her so sweet and everything I imagined she’d be. She leans back on the desk as she bucks against me, hips pressing into my mouth for more contact of my tongue on her clit.

I make tight circles around that bundle of nerves, adding a finger into her opening one by one until her walls tighten around me.

“Beck, your⁠—”

“You like the feeling of my moustache, Trouble?” I ask her. She can only respond with desperate panting and a nod.

I plant a soft kiss on one thigh.

“Show me how much you love it,” I nearly growl, my voice strained at how turned on I am watching her writhe on the desk. I kiss the other thigh. “Come all over it.”

I run my tongue up the seam of her swollen sex, lingering there to brush my moustache against her clit. Lyla whimpers and fuck, does it make me painfully hard.

Lyla’s arousal drips down my fingers as I pump them into her, matching the rhythm of my tongue.

Before long, her body trembles, shaking with the orgasm that rips through her.

“Oh fuck,” she cries as her hips roll forward. She quivers and shakes, every last bit of her restraint coming apart at the seams.

I remove my hand from her and suck the fingers that worked her so thoroughly. She swallows thickly, watching me taste every last bit of her arousal.

“Do you know how fucking good you taste, Lyla?” I growl. “It drives me wild.”

I stand and meet her eyes level, my hand coming around to cup the back of her neck as I bring my mouth to hers, letting her taste for herself.

She hums as I kiss her, her body soft and malleable, she’s so relaxed. The afterglow of her orgasm radiates from her like rays of fucking sunshine.

“Another reason for me to stay,” she purrs when I pull away. Her hand cups the back of my neck, and I hold the other one between us. “I know I won’t find another boss who will do… that.”

“Trouble, you won’t find anyone who will do it like that,” I say, backing away from her now. Lyla is still perched on the desk, cheeks and neck stained pink, hair in a slight bit of disarray.

She looks wild and reckless, like a wildfire, and all I want is to let her burn.

She looks like chaos, and she looks like mine.

Lyla pulls her tank top back up, and I’m suddenly aware that my cock is very uncomfortable in my jeans, so I readjust, and then force myself to look away. It’s the only way my erection will fade.

I return to my spot next to the fireplace, to the boxes I was sorting through before Lyla arrived and stole my concentration. She pads over to me and sits on the floor next to one of the boxes, her legs crossed under her in an impossible pretzel.

“I thought I went through all of these,” she says, with a puzzled expression.

“There were more stacked behind the door,” I say. “Though none of them appear to have the insurance policy.”