“Yes,” she whimpered, her nipples responding under my fingers. Oh, she liked being dirty. She liked it, and she loved it when I forced her to admit it.
“Take off your skirt,” I commanded. “Show me.”
On shaky legs, she stood in front of me. Unzipping the pencil skirt, she slipped out of it, nothing between us now at all. Examining her as if looking for evidence, I brought my face right down to her lovely, slick pussy. With two fingers, I spread her folds wide open, leaving her clit swollen, dark pink and exposed to the cool air. “You’re very wet,” I observed and she whimpered again. “You’re so swollen.” Then I blew gently right on her drenched, throbbing clit. She gasped and arched her back, hand back out on the desk to steady herself.
“And you still haven’t come yet, have you?” I asked, blowing again directly on her clit.
“No!” she called out.
With a wicked smile, I leaned down and asked her so close I knew she could feel my breath on her pussy, “Do you want to come?”
“Yes!” She moaned, panting. “Yes.”
I chuckled. “Not yet.” I touched my tongue light, brief, teasing to her sensitive bud and she cried out. “Not yet,” I continued, pulling back and sitting in my chair. “I want you to touch yourself for me. Show me what you do when you think about me. When you fantasize about my cock.”
Desperate, Kara rested her bare ass against my desk. Past being hesitant or shy, she spread her legs wide and brought her fingers right down to her slit. I watched as she started to finger-fuck herself, bringing her fingers in and out of her slippery hole. All the while she circled her clit with her thumb, touching it just like I did, bringing herself closer and closer.
“I’m going to fuck you on this desk,” I explained as I stood again, placing both hands on either side of her. “And I’m going to fuck you hard.”
“Yes,” she cried out as I reached down, my shaft already erect and ready again.
“Brace yourself,” I told her as I slid a hand underneath her ass and angled her toward the huge crown of my cock. She brought her hands to the desk. With one hard, long thrust I slid full into her. Screaming, she pushed into me, raising her hips and pressing wildly to take me deeper.
Incoherent, I began thrusting into her. She wrapped her legs around my hips, her arms around my neck. I grabbed her ass in my two, large hands and rammed my cock deep into her again and again. I could hear the sound of our wet, slick fucking, my balls slapping against her. She took everything I gave, banging into her relentless, pounding her on the desk.
I could feel her shuddering, her moans and screams in my ear, her pussy starting to squeeze around my prick.
“Come for me now, Kara. Come for me,” I growled. She surrendered into a long, deep orgasm, the noises she made, pleasure sounds, release and gratification, animalistic and out of her control.
“Kara!” My burning, coiled heat exploded into her, shooting deep inside of her. She took me in, her legs wrapped around me, my tool buried in her. I shuddered and nearly collapsed, resting my hands back on the desk, my face in the crook of her neck.
Together, we panted, heavy and fast. Deep inside of her stretched, wet pussy, my cock gave one final pulse. She shuddered and moaned, instinctively pulling against me, turning her face to my shoulder and kissing me there.
My heavy, big arms encircled her and I brought her closer, if that was even possible, cupping my hands around her ass and curving my mouth into the side of her neck. Nuzzling in, I smelled her, almost the way an animal would scent its mate. I’d never felt anything so right in all my life.
CHAPTER 5
Kara
Enveloped in hot steam, I closed my eyes and let the water pour down over my body. Before this week, I thought I’d known what showering was. I now understood how wrong I’d been. Technically, a weak spray out of an old showerhead into a chipped tub next to a plastic curtain that had seen better days was a shower. But, oh my, the enclosed glass, the steam, the multiple showerheads plus side jets, the water pressure. Hot damn, it made a girl want to weep with joy.
I’d miss the showers, that much was true. Come Sunday when this week was over and my coach turned back into a pumpkin, of all the luxuries I thought I’d miss the showers most of all. But I knew I’d get over it. I’d get back into my day-to-day, the memory of pampering like that of a good vacation—it made you smile, but you didn’t expect every day to be that good.
But how was I going to do that with Declan? I didn’t have any tricks up my sleeve to help me get over him.
He rocked my world. The man had me playing naughty secretary for him. And loving it. He made me feel so good it was like the pleasure took over entirely. My body said, “It’s OK, we’ll take it from here,” and my brain nodded and left the building.
All the worries and anxieties that flooded me in other, more lucid moments suddenly disappeared when were together, just the two of us. Should I be doing this? Why did I like this? Nothing else mattered once he touched me. I felt it all so intensely, so intimately. Logically, I knew that had to be due to my inexperience. This couldn’t possibly mean as much to him. These were the kinds of games he played all the time with women far more skilled than me. I should be holding back, if not physically than at least emotionally, to protect and guard my sanity when this all ended. It was already Wednesday afternoon. We didn’t even have a full four more days together.
But I couldn’t get enough of him. It felt like a live current shot through me, as if a switch had been flipped on inside and I couldn’t turn it off. As the water beat down from above, I could feel the sensitivity of my nipples, raw from his pinching and twisting. With the memory, they grew taut and needy once again, insatiable. I brought a finger down to my sex, slipping between my folds, still swollen and tender.
I’d never felt more satisfied than when I’d knelt down between his legs and sucked him off while he’d done his business call. Closing my eyes, I remembered how it had felt to listen to him, so commanding and powerful, making demands and orders. He was so strong, so dominant in every fiber of his being. I loved taking him in my mouth, down my throat deep, sucking and licking and making him so hard. It gave me a thrill of pleasure to see his reaction, his mouth slightly parted, his eyes so dark and hot as he looked down at me sucking his cock. I nearly orgasmed myself when he shot come down my throat, my clit swollen and throbbing as he fisted my hair and forced me to take all of him. I didn’t want to miss a drop.
Opening my eyes, I brought my palms to the tiles of the shower wall. I had to get a grip. I needed be more careful. All signs pointed to my falling for this man. Again. The last time around, my infatuation had known no bounds. It was like that from the moment I met him, like the volume on everything else got turned down real low. Colors elsewhere got less vivid. He, alone, stood out in my world as real.
After he’d stomped all over my teenage heart and fed it to the pigs for breakfast, it had taken me forever to even force myself out on a date with someone else. It was one thing if you did the leaving; you got a whole new scene change and cast of characters with which to recreate yourself. But what about the one who was left behind? I still had to live every day with not only the memories, but also the reminders. I’d head into the barn and see him standing there, looking up with that slow, burning gaze. The small cabin where he’d slept that summer still stood on our property, haunting me in the moonlight.
It would be so much harder this time around, having had this week with him. I should turn and leave while I still could. But just like before, Declan was the flame and I was a moth. I knew I’d technically entered into this agreement for the money, and at the time I’d let myself use that as an excuse. Now, I couldn’t even pretend. I was doing this because I couldn’t stand not to. I had to be with him, as much as I possibly could, for as long as I could manage.
I couldn’t let my heart get broken again. Something told me it mi
ght already be too late.
I stepped out of the shower into fluff and warmth, huge towels and heated floors. My body heaved a full sigh at the deliciousness. Tonight Declan was taking me to dinner and a Broadway show. It all felt unreal. Did it to him? I couldn’t get a clear read on it. Sometimes it felt like he was seeing New York City through the same lens as me, like we were both in on it together, checking out the big city carnival, but our hearts both belonged back under the wide Montana sky. Other times, I didn’t know. There was still so much I didn’t know about him, not just about his life now but about his childhood, how he’d grown up, his family.
It was a good thing I was in a hotel, not his penthouse, or I might have been tempted to start snooping, rummaging through his drawers to see what I could find. That never ended well. Knowing my luck, I’d probably find a whole stack of photos of him with gorgeous, sophisticated, sexy women. He’d probably look far more satisfied and happy than he ever had with me.
It didn’t seem fair that I was such an open book. There were no secrets to me. And, deep down, I craved opening up to him, making myself vulnerable in every way. With Declan, it wasn’t a matter of thought, it was instinct, simply how I responded to him. With other men, I had no problem being the ice princess. With Declan, all he had to do was stroke me with a piece of ice and I melted into a begging, pleading, quivering mess. God, I hoped he’d do that again.
Everything about him pulled me to him like a magnet. I guessed it was true, the old cliché: opposites attract. Back in high school I’d been a light-hearted, carefree kid. Who had I gone for? The dark, tortured ranch hand with the checkered past. Never mind that everyone thought I should stay the cheerleader to Bruce’s quarterback.
Funny thing about Bruce, now he was divorced, broke and back in town. He’d texted me a few times over the summer. It was pretty easy to ignore his messages.