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“Of what?” I prompted, hungry to hear all the dirty words from his mouth.
“Devouring you on my desk. On this chair. The couch.” He grunted. His eyes snapped up, meeting mine over my quivering stomach and peaked nipples.
My eyes rolled back in my head as his mouth clamped over my sex.
“Fuck you taste so good,” he said, his lips and tongue devouring me like a starved man, working me inside and out until I swore the stars on his ceiling were real.
“Mmm, that feels so good, Zeke,” I panted, my arms trembling with the waves of pleasure he sent through me.
“Tell me, angel,” he growled, swirling his tongue over my clit again.
“Ohh, right there,” I begged, and he dove back in like a starved man. Cries tumbled from my lips, and one hand worked its way to his head, holding him to my sex like his mouth was my new addiction.
“Tell me,” he ordered again.
Mindless words escaped from my lips, telling him what his lips and tongue were doing to me. It drove him wild. Ravenous. The way he pleasured me felt like it broke every law of desire, the way my heart hammered and my breaths struggled to stay in sync.
This couldn’t be wrong. However, until this came to an end, enjoying all the parts in the middle—even if just in stolen moments at night—couldn’t be wrong. Not when it felt like this.
My feet pushed against his chair until finally, with a rough growl, he rose from the seat, keeping his mouth latched to me and let me push the chair away as he gorged on my pussy.
My legs found a new support, winding around his broad shoulders and holding tight as his tongue worked my clit into a frenzy, my vision blurring before my first orgasm claimed me.
He groaned low, lapping up my release as it spilled into his mouth.
“You’re too wet, angel,” he growled as I trembled back down to earth. “I can’t leave you like this, all soaked and begging for my cock.”
I loved this side of him. The raw and dirty side that hid behind his gentlemanly exterior. I loved it because it made me so hot… and because it was just for me.
I hadn’t had anything that was only for me for so long.
“Yes, Zeke. Please.”
He carefully took my legs and lowered them down, bringing his hands to the waist of his pants and then undoing them.
“You like to see what you do to me?” he rumbled, peeling his slacks and boxer briefs over his hips, his cock bobbing free. “How hard you make me?” He fisted himself, dragging his hand firmly all the way to the tip where a bead of cum appeared.
“Yes,” I panted, a rush of power coursing through me.
I’d never had a man wild for me—weak for me. With Stan… he was always in control. Like everything else about our life, I was only there for him. For his pleasure. For his son. For his image. For his twisted ego.
Zeke yanked open his desk drawer and pulled out a condom.
“You have condoms down here?” I asked breathlessly.
He tore the packet open. “Brought them down here the day you moved in so they’d be out of the bedroom… out of reach.”
A small smile curled over my lip as he rolled the condom over his massive cock. “I think your plan backfired.”
“All my plans involving you have backfired,” he said, reaching for me and carefully pulling me upright. His hands went to my breasts, weighing and kneading them as his mouth searched out my ear. “Now bend forward, angel, and take my cock like a good girl.”
I moaned before he even touched me. Goose bumps broke out over my skin as I spun and lowered myself forward.
The desk felt cool underneath my hot skin, my nipples pressing flat to the surface as I exposed myself completely to him. Cool air greeted my slick, sensitive flesh a second before the fat tip of his cock pressed to my entrance and then inched inside.
“Is this what you came down here for?” He rumbled low, sliding inside me with torturous slowness. “To be bent over my desk and fucked?”
“Yes.” I tried to move my hips back, to take more of him faster, but his hand on my lower back was too strong. “Fuck me. I’m yours, Zeke. Yours.”
