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Our eyes clash; it’s a battle of the wills. I don’t care enough to try to win it. At one time I would have fought tooth and nail, but not now. Now only one thing matters to me.
‘Fuck me, Jack.’
‘Here? In the boardroom at my office?’
I am going to hell. I don’t even want to think about what my brain’s going to have to say.
‘Yes. Now. Please. Fuck me,’ I whimper, so hot that I need him to do something. To fix this.
I drop my hand to my clit, but when I touch myself he grabs my wrist and pulls it away.
‘No, that’s cheating,’ he whispers, his eyes on me as he loosens his belt and pushes his pants down just enough to release his gorgeous, glorious cock for me to see. I’ve seen it so many times, but now...? It’s for me.
‘Please...’
His eyes hold mine as he layers protection over his length, quickly, easily.
I push forward on the table, seeking him, and then he thrusts inside me, slamming me hard, and I feel the coiling of a pleasure that I cannot control. It is hot and fierce, and I cry out at the invasion that is so much better than my wildest fantasies.
His hands on my shoulders pull me up; he’s so strong and I am lost in the moment. He pulls me against him and lifts me off the table so I can take him deeper, and I have a fleeting moment of gratitude for the heavy tint on the windows that surround the boardroom. His cock is spearing me, and I am wrapped around him, and he kisses me again—a kiss of such ownership and possession that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to lie to him again.
I did miss him.
‘You want this?’ he asks me, lifting my hips easily, gliding me up his length before pushing me down and making me cry out, my back arched, my nipples hard.
I nod.
‘I didn’t hear that.’
‘I want this,’ I groan, my fingers tearing through his hair, my mind completely scattered.
His laugh is throaty as he lifts me once more, but this time he eases me down to the floor, stroking up my dress as he goes.
I know outrage must show in my face, and I know he appreciates that.
‘You want me.’
Mortification, anger and impatience are firing bullets across my desire.
I reach down and cup his h
ard-on, my eyes issuing him with a challenge. ‘And you want me.’
He nods slowly, his eyes locked to mine. There is no mockery there now; instead I see something darker. Resentment.
‘I want you.’
He turns away from me, pulling his pants up, buckling his belt, his shoulders set square.
He turns to face me, his expression suddenly businesslike. ‘We’ll talk after the meeting.’
I blink. The meeting. Shit. It’s the reason I’m here but how quickly I’ve forgotten its existence.
My eyes fly to the clocks on the wall, each showing a different time zone. There are minutes to go before the others are expected, which means they could literally arrive now. I run my hands down my dress, then neaten my hair. No time to pin it back into a bun so I just smooth it with the palms of my hands until it sits neatly around my face.
I turn to face him, intending to ask for my underpants back. But the look he gives me is so fulminating that I lose my voice.
‘You look like you’ve just been fucked,’ he says darkly, and I sweep my eyes shut, shame spiralling through me.
