Page 22 of The FBI Agents Who Stole Me

She pushes her lips against mine. Her kiss is softer but just as needy as mine was. I let her have it for half a second, then take over.

The kiss turns brutal. She bites my lower lip. I grip her jaw hard and tilt her head back, deepening it until she whimpers.

“These skirts drive me crazy,” I rasp against her mouth. “You have any idea how many times I’ve imagined bending you over my desk? Skirt shoved up, panties ripped aside, fucking you raw while you try to stay quiet so the whole department doesn’t hear what a needy little slut you are for me?”

Her breath hitches.

“You talk a lot of shit, Elliot.”

I fist her skirt and drag it up over her hips. A tiny scrap of black lace is the only thing in my way. I run my finger along the edge, feeling how damp the fabric already is.

“You’re fucking dripping, Lee.”

“Stop talking and do something about it then.”

I hook two fingers under the thin straps at her hips and rip the thong apart with one sharp tug. The ruined lace falls away, and I catch it before it hits the floor. I bring it straight to my face and inhale deeply, breathing in the scent of her arousal while I keep her trapped against the counter.

A low sound rumbles in my chest. I press the wet lace to my nose again, slower this time, and let out a rough breath against her ear.

“Fuck, baby. You smell so good when you’re this worked up for me.”

I spin her around, bend her over the sink, and kick her feet wide. One hand grips the back of her left thigh and yanks her leg up onto the counter, forcing her knee down hard so she’s spread open for me.

Her palms slap the mirror for balance.

I slide my middle finger in, her and she rocks back against my hand.

She’s trying to stay quiet, but when I push a second finger inside her and curl them deep, a sexy moan spills out of her.

“No. Those sounds are for me only,” I growl. “Do you have any idea how many men out there were staring at you? I almost shot three of them tonight.”

She moans louder in defiance, eyes flashing in the mirror.

“Since you can’t control that mouth on your own, I’ll do it for you.”

With my free hand, I press the torn thong against her lips.

“Open.”

She turns her head in a bratty attempt to resist. But I’m faster. I shove the wet thong into her mouth, packing it firmly behind her teeth.

Without giving her time to spit it out or protest, I pull my fingers from her pussy, and I free my cock. I drag my thick head through her slick entrance, then slam into her.

She cries out around the gag, the sound muffled and shattered.

I don’t give her a second to adjust.

Her cunt is tight as hell around me, clenching hard like her body is fighting the stretch even as she takes every inch. I fuck her with short, punishing strokes, grinding deep on every inward snap so she feels every inch forcing her open.

“Quiet now while I use this cunt to teach you a lesson,” I growl. “Daddy’s cock is too big for you, isn’t it? But you’re going to learn how I like to use you, then you’ll take me better.”

I reach around, pinch her clit hard, and roll it fast.

With her knee on the counter, we have a full view of where we are connected in the mirror. I can see every inch of my cock pulling her open. Her cunt clings around me on every withdrawal, shiny with how wet she is.

“Eyes on the mirror,” I command. “Watch how your pussy is struggling to take all of me. You can take it harder. Show me you can handle it.”

She tries to push back against me. Even with her dripping juices I’m struggling to bottom out.