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The last words were so brutal, the desire in his eyes so inky black, I barely noted the actual meaning behind them. I didn’t have huge amounts of time considering his hand moved from my collarbone to tightly—bordering on delightful pain—circle my neck and yank me forward so our mouths clashed together.
His kiss wasn’t tender, or full of the love that he so brutally alluded to. No, this was anger, passion. Everything that was between us and everything that wasn’t, packaged into a kiss.
My hands snaked up the back of his tee, frantic for contact with his skin. I sank my nails into the ridges of his muscle, reveling in his hiss of pleasure and pain against my mouth. He fisted my hair, yanking my head back so my eyes met his.
“Want to play it that way, baby?” he growled. “Want the fight?”
I sank my nails deeper.
He grinned. “That’s my fuckin’ girl.”
His mouth went to my neck, grazing it with his teeth before fastening his lips against the skin while yanking my hair back, the pain from the grip and the pleasure from his mouth on my neck mixing to a crescendo of brilliance.
“Mine,” he growled against my throat, his hand flexing slightly so I cried out.
The sound shocked him into movement. Movement that had him releasing my hair only long enough to yank my halter top down, taking my bra with it.
Cool air barely had a chance to circle my exposed breast before his mouth it was on it.
I rested my head against the door, muffling my sound of pleasure at the last minute as I remembered, vaguely, our surroundings.
Keltan’s mouth worked relentlessly, building the pressure between my legs in a way that told me I’d climax from that alone if he continued for much longer.
I knew he was good with his mouth—this wasn’t my first rodeo with him, after all—but something was different that time. Something had been unleashed that hadn’t been there before.
I made another, louder sound as his teeth grazed my nipple.
Obviously Keltan was too aware of our surroundings, as he moved a hand to cover my mouth, stroking my bottom lip with his thumb before he did so.
“You know I love hearin’ you, but you gotta be quiet, baby,” he ordered, releasing my nipple. He straightened, his hand still on my mouth, eyes on mine. “’Cause I’m gonna make you come harder than you ever have before. You’re gonna wanna scream, but you’re not allowed, okay? Your screams are for me and for me only. This is going to stay here.” He increased the pressure on my mouth slightly, but not so I couldn’t breathe. “Unless you have any objections?”
The feminist in me surely did have objections to the man she shouldn’t even be talking to, let alone fucking in an office at ten o’clock on a Monday morning, muffling her with his hand while he fucked her.
Said man slipped his hand into the waistband of my pants as my mind worked.
My eyes slipped to the back of my head as his thumb stroked my magic spot.
“You got any objections to me fuckin’ you on that desk, silencing your screams with my hand, Snow?” he repeated, that time nodding to the large oak desk in the middle of the room.
I shook my head rapidly.
As did my inner feminist.
He grinned. His hand left my mouth, only to be replaced by another brutal kiss.
I responded eagerly, melting against him. His hands went to my ass, kneading for a moment before yanking me up. I immediately wrapped my legs around his waist, moaning into his mouth as my burning core pressed against the bulge in his jeans in exactly the right place.
I moved against him to gain friction as the kiss continued, and he moved us across the room.
Too soon I was lowered onto a desk and lost purchase on his hardness.
His mouth left mine. I met his eyes, half blind with the most frantic desire I’d ever felt in my life.
I expected words. More filthy promises. Or kisses. Or proclamations of ownership. I got all of that, just not in words. I got it in that simple, still gaze that had the storm underneath it.
He kept that look while very slowly, very purposefully, undoing the button on my pants. One hand went to my ass as he lifted me, somehow using the other to roll my pants down.
His biceps flexed slightly with the movement, but nothing else betrayed any kind of exertion at this.
He took my panties as well, so when he lowered my torso back on the desk it was bare skin against the wood.
I doubted it was sanitary, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“Keltan,” I whispered on a plea against the slowness, especially compared to the frantic movements of before.
“No words from you,” he ordered on a thick growl.
