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“Damn. It’s good to be you.”
“It is.” He grins at me lazily, watching me still. “Get back here.”
“Relax, Your Majesty.” I resettle myself on his lap, and he sighs slightly. Content, I think. Like a lion after a big meal.
I rip open the antiseptic packet and press it to his jaw with no warning.
He hisses a curse. “Little warning next time?”
“I seem to remember you enjoying doing this to me,” I tease. I swipe the pad over his skin, cleaning his cut.
He laughs softly. “Don’t torment me, Thompson. It turns me on.” As if agreeing, his erection jerks against my leg. “See?”
I smile and set the used pad on his desk. “I thought you said no sex while you were drunk.”
He groans softly and runs a hand up my thigh, fingers playing along the edge of my lace underwear. His hand is warm and rough. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
“What about other things?”
His sharp intake of air tells me that he likes the idea of other things very much.
“What other things?” His eyes are sharp and hungry, no longer lazy and satisfied. His desire makes me bold, like a woman I don’t recognize. I like who I am in his eyes. His equal, respected, a woman to be feared and desired.
“Do you remember that first day in your office?” I slip my fingers under his hoodie to find him bare-chested. Hot skin, all muscle. “You asked me where I went?”
“Yes. Your eyes had this look in them.” His breath hitches as I trace the hair on his stomach that leads into his shorts. “Like you were picturing something delicious.”
“I was,” I murmur, tugging at his waistband. “I was wondering what it would be like to get on me knees under your desk and take you in my mouth.”
He makes a choked sound, his lids dropping. “Fuck. If I’d known—” His words cut off as I run a hand up his erection and climb off his lap. He lifts his hips to let me pull off his shorts, and then he pulls off his sweatshirt with one hand, his abs and arms flexing in one sinuous motion.
My breath comes a little faster as I take him in. Lean lines, not an ounce of fat, powerful shoulders, those arms that held me against the wall while he fucked me. A perfect cock, thick, long, hard against his thigh.
“I love the way you look at me.”
I smile and pull off my sweater, my skirt, my boots, while he watches, until I’m just in my black lace underwear.
“All of it,” he says, eyes hungry. “I want it all off while you suck me.”
That voice. Like sin. I strip off my underwear and kneel in front of him. My pulse is already throbbing between my legs, demanding more. I ignore it as Jonah pushes his hips to the edge of the chair so I can take him in my mouth. The instant the flared head of his cock meets my lips, he makes a low noise. The sound arrows straight to my core. His insistent desire pulls my own to the surface.
I twine my tongue over the head, reveling in the taste of him, salt and musk, and the feel of him, silky skin, hot and smooth. I take him as deep as I can and he groans again. I love this. Driving him crazy is a new high. He likes hitting the back of my throat, I think, so I keep doing it, again and again, my hands slick with spit, the salty taste of pre-come in my mouth. His hoarse breaths mingle with the sounds of his cock sliding through my hands. His fingers are digging into the chair, his chest is rising and falling in soft pants. When I raise my head, his eyes are slumberous with desire. I keep eye contact with him as I suck him into my mouth again and his eyes flare wide.
“Fuck, Callie.” His voice is a ragged whisper. His hand spears into my hair. I lave my tongue over the head of his cock and his hips lift. He’s swelling, jerking in my mouth. “I’m close, but I need you to tell me what you enjoy.” He shuts his eyes briefly, face twisting with pleasure. “I need to know that you like this. Are you wet?”
I press a single finger between my legs and moan at the contact. His own need has ratcheted mine up higher than I thought possible.
“Let me taste.”
I lift my hand, and his lips close over it, warm and firm. A rumble of enjoyment comes from his chest, and I press my thighs together. His face is slack with desire at the taste of me.
His tongue twines over my fingers, and I mirror the movement on his cock. His hips are jerking now. He’s close, so close, but I need to push him over the edge. I crave your pleasure. More than his own. I let him pop out of my mouth, smack against his stomach. I delve both hands between my legs, feeling bolder than I ever have before. But something in me wants to please him. I flick my fingers over my clit, already close. I’m slippery and swollen, and watching Jonah watch me is a whole new level of hot.
His face looks pained, his hands clenched. I moan, riding my hand, my stomach tightening.
“Fuck it,” Jonah growls. In one smooth motion, he surges out of the chair, pins me to the floor, and drags his cock through my folds. My body jolts, my hips buck. He fists his cock and enters me in a long stroke that has sparks arcing through me.
He plants his hands on either side of my head and kisses me, long and deep, before rolling his hips into me in hard thrusts. I’m moving across the floor, the rug abrading my back, and I don’t care. I claw at the parts of him I can touch—his hands on my hips, his veined forearms.
