Page 17 of Divine Assistant


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“So much for good manners. Now you can understand why I think people should take their good manners and shove them up their—”

“I have to go, Holden. I’ve got things to do. Errands.”

“No you don’t. You’re taking the day off. Forget the caviar and the suits.”

“But your costume for the benefit—”

“You can find me a costume after I’ve had my way with you, Miss Divine. Now, if you’re about finished? I’d like to kiss you now,” he said, his voice dropping a notch.

Bending his head, he slowly nudged her nose with his just before his lips brushed over hers. It was only a fleeting touch, but enough to make her melt and burn. She held her breath, her eyes drifting shut just as his tongue darted out to trace a wet path along the seams of her lips. With a soft little sigh, she parted them and his tongue greedily slipped into her

mouth seconds before he locked his lips completely over hers. It was a slow, passionate kiss…one that made her desperately ache for more. She fisted her hands in his silky black hair and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss, feeling starved and thirsty for him.

He groaned deep in his throat.

She moaned within hers.

Without breaking the kiss, Holden wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her, stumbling around his desk toward the swivel chair. He fell back onto it and she fell on top of him, straddling him with her thighs, her skirt rising up to her hips, all the while their lips glued together and their tongues insatiable, their breaths loud and haggard. He kissed her fiercely while his hands pulled off her jacket and briskly unbuttoned her shirt. Growling with pure male satisfaction after discarding both, his hands cupped the flesh of her breasts and squeezed possessively, tugging the fabric of her bra sideways to expose her nipples. He bent forward and sucked one into his mouth. As he suckled and milked her, the muscles of her cunt contracted harshly, mimicking the same rhythm as his mouth sucking on her breast.

She gasped at the tingling, painful sensation and rocked her hips against him, trying to ease her need with the large, stiff bulge nestled snugly between her legs. It scraped her, scorched her, tempted her. Suddenly she needed to taste him, all of him, inside her mouth. His strength, his fullness, his desire.

He wasn’t too happy when she pulled her breast from his lips. A harsh, raw snarl quite efficiently told her so.

But Lucy had a serious mission to perform—a matter of life and death. She needed him in her mouth now.

Sliding her body down the length of his, she knelt, settling between his muscular thighs and pulling down his zipper. Sticking her hand inside his crisp white underwear, she pulled out his huge cock and wet her panties even further.

The loud, needy sound of a starved person that echoed in his office actually came from her. It tore from her lips when she bent her head down to take him into her mouth. Shuddering, he threw his head back and squeezed out a harsh, wheezing breath through his teeth.

Sinking his fingers into the tight, firm bun of her hair, he slowly pulled it loose, letting her hair cascade down her back. His cock was salty, intoxicating, and Lucy ran her tongue up and down the length of it, tasting every inch. Pulling her mouth back, she circled the head with the tip of her tongue, watching the expression on his face as she did so. He was watching her mouth—his eyes deep and dark and burning. His breathing was harsh and labored, the cords straining against his neck from a tight, primal need he was visibly keeping on a tight leash.

Lucy curled one hand around the base of his cock while her tongue slowly circled the head, gently tracing the folds. Slowly, she stroked her hand up and down, marveling at his size and hardness while she tilted her head sideways and lowered her face to gently tug the soft skin of his sac with her lips. Her own sex tightened in arousal at the sounds of stark male hunger that tore from his lips.

With sudden desperation, Holden grabbed the back of her head and held her still as he arched his hips and sank his cock into her mouth. Lucy thought she would faint from the wonder of this feeling, the feeling of power, of being the only person who could give him what he craved most right now. It burned in her muscles, boiled in her veins, simmered in every nerve ending in her body.

She moved her lips up and down his cock, using her tongue to taste and caress every inch that she could. Loud sucking noises seemed to come from her very center as she drew him into her mouth as deeply as she could, making him growl fiercely. His hands fisted on her hair and pulled her head back with force.

“Sit on it,” he ordered darkly.

When he asked so crudely she could do nothing but obey, she was so turned on. Quickly slipping off her panties and lifting her skirt, she straddled him once again. His hands were strong, cupping her hips as he held her above him. Without warning, he pushed her hips down as he thrust up inside her, claiming her completely, filling the aching void inside her. Her cunt clenched tightly around his cock, not wanting to ever let go of that perfect specimen inside her.

It was made to be there—he was made to be there.

Gritting his teeth, Holden moved, stroking his cock against her inner walls as they tightened and massaged him, easing her need while at the very same time stoking it to suicidal proportions.

Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she slowly rocked her hips against his and began to ride him.

His breath was hot against her face, his jaw clenched tightly as his hands ran a burning path up her spine. “I love the way we fuck…the way you take me inside you,” he whispered.

His voice, husky and deep, splashed over her body like heat waves. Gripping her waist with his hands, Holden pulled back his cock only to slam back into her with force, a desperate, needful sound tearing from his chest.

Feverish and whimpering as she continued to rock and circle her hips against his, she cupped his face with her hands and kissed him, kissed those plump, sensual lips, touched that hard, chiseled face with her fingertips. The swivel chair squeaked every time she moved against him, the squeaks slow and steady like each of her strokes.

Squeak…squeak…squeak.

“Yes,” she gasped, clutching his face and tugging his lower lip with her teeth as she pushed and rocked and moved. Digging his fingers into her flesh, he pulled back with an effort and delved inside her again, this time harder, deeper.

Squeak…squeak…squeak!

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