Page 16 of The Boss

"That's worse."

"Much worse."

Yet stopping isn't even a consideration. My hands slide down to grip her hips, and I walk her backward until the edge of the desk bites into her ass. Papers crinkle under her weight. A pen holder clatters over, pens and clips skittering across the hardwood with sharp little clicks that feel loud as gunshots in the silent office.

"Matthew." My name leaves her in a broken whimper, and it rips through whatever thread of restraint I had left. My cock throbs painfully, already aching to be buried inside her again.

I hoist her fully onto the desk, stepping between her spread knees as her legs lock tight around my waist. The movement shoves her pencil skirt up around her hips, and my palms find the silky, fever-hot skin of her thighs.

Vivian gasps sharply, the sound punching straight into my gut.

"Is this what you've been thinking about?" I drag my mouth down the warm column of her throat. Her pulse flutters wildly under my tongue.

"Among other things."

"Tell me, Vivian. That's an order."

"I've been thinking about your hands." She catches my wrist and drags it higher, pressing my fingers against the soaked crotch of her panties. The scorching heat of her seeps through the thin lace, making me groan. "And your mouth."

I crush my lips to hers again, harder, filthier.

"Vivian." I pull back just far enough to meet her eyes. Her lips are swollen and glistening, dark hair tumbling loose from its pins thanks to my fingers, and my chest seizes at the way she looks at me. "Are you sure about this?"

"Are you seriously asking me that now?"

"I'm asking because once we do this, there's no pretending it didn't happen. This stops being a one-time thing."

Her gaze softens. "Then let's not stop."

With a growl, I drag her right to the desk's edge, thighs spread wide around me, and plunge my tongue in and out of her hot mouth while my fingers work to open the delicate buttons of her blouse.

She tugs my belt loose, movements rushed and endearingly clumsy.

"You're overdressed," she whispers against the stubble of my jaw, voice husky.

"So are you."

We tear at the rest of our clothes with zero finesse. Fabric whispers and snaps—her blouse hitting the floor, my tie yanked loose, her bra unhooked and tossed somewhere near Levi's leather couch.

I finally get her completely bare, skin flushed under my hands. "Fucking gorgeous."

She’s breathtaking—cheeks pink, nipples tight and dark, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders as she sits completely naked on my brother’s polished desk. The sheer wrongness of it should twist my stomach. Instead it only makes me harder, sharper, more desperate to claim every inch of her right here where anyone could theoretically walk in.

"Stop looking and touch me."

"Demanding."

"You like demanding."

God, I do. I love that she knows exactly what she wants and isn't afraid to demand it. My mouth closes over one breast, tongue flicking, teeth grazing just enough to make her arch and cry out.

My hand slides between her thighs again, two thick fingers gliding through her soaked folds before pushing inside her tight heat. Ah, fuck. She's drenched, clenching around me instantly.

"More, Matthew. I need more." Her hips rock against my hand. I give her a third finger and curl them. Her head falls back, and her broken, breathy moans are the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.

"Tell me how this feels."

"Perfect. God, Matthew, don't stop."