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His mouth closes over mine, and my fingers bury in his hair, tugging at it. He kisses me, deep and hard, as his fingers pull at my skirt.
“This is not enough fabric. You are never wearing it in public again,” he growls, and then his mouth is on mine again, and the kiss is wild, his teeth nipping at my lower lip. My mind narrows in on where I can feel him against me, the hardness and the heat, and there’s nothing else but him and the way that he’s making me burn for him.
His hand tangles in the side of my panties, his forehead pressed to mine as he twists his fingers. Pain pinches at me for a brief moment, and then the shocking release of pressure around my waist. My underwear is ripped, torn at the side, and he’s hard, so hard, and his hands are shaking as he holds me up against the door, and I can’t help the little noises I make.
He tugs the ruined fabric to the side, and he grinds into me, the wool of his trousers rough against my exposed skin. It has me arching into him, the friction good-bad in a way I’ve never felt, but that’s not what’s got my breath catching in the back of my throat.
His cock. He’s huge, and it’s almost intimidating, but I don’t have long to consider it.
His gaze searches my face, and whatever he sees there makes him press his lips together, bending his head to kiss me again.
It muffles my gasp as he drags his hand between us, sliding his palm over my pussy. The flat, dull pressure of it is exactly what I need, and has me arching into him.
His fingers touch my clit, and it’s almost like an electric shock, because I’ve never felt this way before, and everything is newand wild and I can’t keep myself under control.
I cry out, and his finger is stroking, sliding through my wetness, and he’s growling, his lips moving against mine.
“So perfect,” he whispers. “I can’t wait.”
“I—” I gasp, and forgetting my words is so stupid, but it’s all I’ve got.
“I’m not going to fuck you against the wall the first time,” he growls, and I can tell by his tone that it’s not just something he’s decided, but an absolute.
He wants the first time to be special.
That’s so… my heart aches, and I’m not sure if he’ll ever want anything beyond the physical, but the emotion at the moment overwhelms me. But I don’t want it gentle or sweet or soft. I don’t want an excuse to look him in the face and not see my own emotions reflected there. I can’t. I’ll break.
“What about on your desk?” I’m breathless as I speak and something sparks in his golden eyes, a flare of lust maybe. He kisses me again, his tongue in my mouth, and the way his thumb strokes my clit is a rhythm that has my head spinning.
“I—” He pauses, and looks toward the stairs, toward where his bedroom is.
But I need him now.
I need him so fucking badly.
“Hadrion, your desk is just as good as any surface—”
I roll my hips against his, trying to encourage him to make a decision, because I feel like I’m going to combust. I’m going todie if he doesn’t—
He pulls away and takes me with him. The let-down of being on the edge and nearly falling off of it has me curling into him. I want more of that. I need it.
He carries me, easily, across the apartment, to his office, over to the large desk. I barely have time to take in his office. The floor-to-ceiling windows look out onto the city, the lights sparkling, the room itself all dark wood and leather. All of it fades to nothing.
He sets me down beside his desk and turns me, his hand pressing between my shoulder-blades. In front of me the windows spill light over us, the buildings outside like so many eyes staring down at me.
My breath stutters in my chest.
“Down,” he murmurs, and the command sends shivers up and down my spine. I bend my chest on the desk, my arms bracing myself against its smooth surface. My shirt protects me from the cool surface, but my cheek presses into it as I turn my head to the side. I curl my fingers around the far edge, hanging on, trying to anchor myself.
“You’re going to come for me first,” he says, and his hands are sliding up and down the backs of my thighs, the skirt of my dress bunching around my waist.
“And then?”
He doesn’t answer me, just laughs, breathless and hectic. A shiver runs through me, and then his fingers stroke up the backs of my thighs. He spreads his palms over them, smoothing warmth along my skin. The anticipation is burning up my spine,as he pushes my thighs apart, his hands twisting them outward so I’m exposed for him.
My face flushes, as the thought of him looking at me, of how exposed I am for his perusal.
“You’re wet for me,” he observes, “and you’re not ashamed at all, are you?” Except I am, a little, it eats at me, but in the next moment he chases all thoughts from me other than how good he makes me feel. His tongue flicks out over me, and I let out a breathy moan.
