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Thisis what lives in so many of these pressed pages surrounding us.
“What are we doing?” I ask when I pull away, my skin a little raw from the scrape of his subtle scruff. I can only imagine how I look, eyes, mouth, and body open. Ready for pleasure.
“I’m going to lock that door,” he starts as he steps back. Slow steps toward the front door. “Then I’m going to take you behind the bookshelves and pull that dress up over those mesmerizing hips of yours. They’ve been secretly seducing me all night.” He flips the lock, a solid sound in the midst of all this hazy sexual tension.
“And then?” I ask, still kneeling on the desk, my hands on my thighs in a subservient manner that feels foreign to me.
It is sobering and sexy all at the same time.
I close my eyes when his hand grazes my cheek, lifting my face.
“I want to see you. I want to see how wet you are for me,” he tells me.
Unable to battle against this, I open my eyes, admiring the way his stare back at me. “You only want to see?”
Those glistening green eyes have a hold on me, more than the hand resting on my face. When his head shakes, I run my tongue where my lips meet, wanting to taste more of him.
“I want to devour you.”
Words that should scare me have me sliding my legs in front of me and parting them once I’m sitting on the edge.
I can’t remember the last time my body felt so primed for fucking. I can’t remember being this entranced by the bulge in a man’s pants. Or what it felt like to be looked at with new eyes; eyes that wanted to see all of me in a way I was more than prepared to make happen.
“Is this your story?” I whisper. Because something pinches at the back of my neck, telling me to look before I jump.
“A very small part of it.” His thumbs are on my thighs, pushing the fabric up, setting little trails of fire along the way. My body is igniting. “Perhaps we’ll both want it to be more.”
I want to warn him that it’s unlikely. That I’m chained to this place and that I’ve never been good atthis.Loving and wanting and being for someone else.
Sorrow runs so deep, it mingles with my blood and pumps through my heart.
But he’s set a flame so large, it roars at my aching heart and makes me come alive.
Fingers slide against the fabric of my panties, knuckles against what I’m sure is damp fabric.
His hiss confirms it. “I bet your pussy is sweet.” He nuzzles at my neck. “It has to be.”
“You could always put your mouth to use and find out,” I inform him, with a smile that slips off my lips when he slides his fingers under my panties and pushes one inside. I try to watch the slow impale but he grabs my face, determined to watch me come apart.
“You’re going to drive me fucking crazy, aren’t you?”
“You should be so lucky,” I tell him. I try to hide the way my hands shake, bracing them against the desk. I try to hide how intimidating his power is to me and how I need to regroup before I do something stupid. Like get attached.
I pull away from him and push off the desk.
We’re silent as I lead and he follows, our bodies meeting against a shelf, hidden from the front windows of the store.
“Tell me what you want,” he says, our lips so close without touching.
This is the lightning before the thunder.
“Fuck me like you’re never going to see me again.”
His answer is a wicked smile and I am a woman, standing in a downpour, celebrating the fact that she’s forgotten her umbrella.
Hands are sliding up my thighs again but I’m impatient as I reach for one of them and press it against my core.
“I want you here,” I tell him, wetting my lips, wanting more than that. Wanting things I can’t even fathom. Things that involve keeping him here.
