“Ah.” Her moan was laced with frustration at not being able to hold on to something. Pulling back, I searched the pocket of my jacket for my tie, handing it to her.
“Do whatever you want with this,” I said in her ear.
I wouldn’t be able to be in this room again and not think about this moment: Skye naked, bent over my desk, hanging on to my tie. Bending over her to kiss the back of her neck, I pushed my cock between her thighs, rubbing the length of it along her entrance. I was teasing and tempting her but not penetrating. The tremor in her body intensified in anticipation. She was hot and wet, and I couldn’t wait to be inside her.
“Let’s move to the couch,” I murmured. “I want you to be comfortable.”
She pushed herself off the desk, turning around to face me. I kissed her the next second. I needed her mouth. I needed all of her.
Walking her backward, I led her to the couch. She tumbled onto it, laughing, pulling me on top of her. I propped my arms at her sides, holding myself up so I didn’t crush her.
She laughed, looking around. She’d dropped the tie halfway to the couch, but she didn’t need it now. She could scratch her nails into the couch any way she wanted... or me.
“Mr. Dumont, you’re being bad. Defiling your office like this.”
Pushing myself back on my knees, I drew my hands down her inner thighs, from her apex to her knees, then to her ankles. Lifting them up, I propped one on my shoulder, the other on the backrest. I liked seeing her like this, ready for anything I wanted to do.
I kneaded her ass cheeks, pulling her closer to my cock. I slid in the tip, watching her shutter her eyes, her nostrils flare.
“Rob....”
Tilting forward, I drove inside her inch by inch, trying to breathe through the pleasure. It was impossible. When I was inside her to the hilt, her inner muscles clenched tight around me.
“Fuck,” I whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
She lowered her foot from the backrest, propping it on the couch, moving her hips upward, meeting the rhythm of my thrusts. I lowered her other leg too, leaning over her, drawing the tip of my nose over her chest and neck, just wanting more of her. I kissed her long and deep, and somehow, the pleasure intensified. She pulsed tighter around me; I moved faster, stroked deeper, my balls thrusting forward with each movement, connecting with her ass. I wanted to reach between us to touch her clit, but my balance would be too precarious if I did that. Instead, I pulled out of her, changing our position. I was on my knees and helped her on hers too, turning her so her back was to me.
“Hold the backrest like this,” I instructed.
The second she gripped it, I slid inside her again, unable to hold back any longer. She moaned, and I was right there with her.
It felt even more intense than before. I brought my hand in front of her, teasing her navel before lowering it slowly down her pubic bone in a straight line to her clit.
The second I touched her soft flesh, I felt all her muscles contract. Pleasure reverberated through her, ensnaring me too. I increased my rhythm, growing more desperate. My muscles burned in protest, but I was relentless. I wanted to give her every drop of pleasure possible, bring her to a high she hadn’t known before.
She exploded only a few seconds later, coming so hard, squeezing me so tight, that I had no choice but to surrender to my own climax. I lost any sense of space, and my balance. Gripping the backrest with one hand and Skye’s hip with the other, I held tight until we both slowed down. Skye was trembling a little as I leaned over her. I kissed her back before we both collapsed on the couch, squeezing on one side to both fit.
“Je suis fou de toi.”
“Translation?” she murmured.
“I’m crazy about you.”
She wiggled her ass, laughing softly. We were both silent for a few minutes, and then Skye headed to the chair where she’d dropped her bag.
“Woman, why do you have so much energy?” I asked.
She looked over her shoulder, smiling saucily. “Why don’t you find out? I can give you some tips for helping me get rid of it.”
I laughed, watching her return with wet wipes. We cleaned up quickly.
“I think we both deserve a macaron for our effort,” Skye said playfully.
“I see. So you brought them for me, but now you want me to share?”
She held up one finger. “I never said they were only for you.”
She brought the Ladurée package, taking out four macarons, two with pistachio, two with caramel. She gave me two, keeping the others for herself.