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“Don’t rush,” he says. “I have not given you permission to get up off your knees yet.”

His voice has gone soft, and beneath the softness is a raw, filthy hunger he’s not bothering to hide, and it frightens me more than his cold anger did. He stubs the cigar out and leans back in his chair.

“This reminds me of that night in the car,” he says. “You had my cock down your throat and pleased me a great deal better then.”

My face goes up in flames as the memory of him, thick and heavy and hard against my tongue, rolls through me uninvited.

“That was a one-time thing,” I try. “I was drunk and angry and getting back at Maksim.” Even as I say it, the slick ache building low and wet between my legs calls me a liar.

“Take my cock in your mouth,” he commands. “The way you did that night in the car.”

Anger and resentment knot together in my stomach. I hate him. I hate the number that owns me now. I hate that a single filthy command in that deep voice makes something in me clench and tilt toward him.

And still my knees, my traitor knees, keep giving way beneath me, carrying me one shuffle at a time across the carpet to my knees in front of his chair, my body answering him while every furious thought in my head screams at it to stop.

8

DELANEY

I unbuckle his belt with unsteady hands, and his thick cock springs free toward my face.

I’ve seen it before. Knowing that does nothing to stop my stomach from clenching at the sheer thick size of him. I still cannot fully believe my body took all of this cock last night and lived.

He presses hot against my lips, so scalding and rock-hard I tremble where I kneel. Slick precum smears at the corner of my mouth. His primal, musky scent floods my lungs and scrambles whatever sense I had left.

I open and take his cock fully into my mouth. The thick length stretches my mouth until there is no room left for anything else, no thought, no protest.

“So fucking tight,” he says, the words rumbling out of his chest.

The filthy praise goes straight between my legs and leaves me soaking wet. I work his cock harder, and his hand fists in my hair and pushes down until my throat is packed full and my vision starts to gray at the edges. The lack of air is dizzying. I should hate it. I don’t.

The desk phone rings, and reality slams back into the room. This filthy, obscene thing I’m doing has no business happening in an office, and yet here I’m doing it anyway.

Lev picks up the receiver as though nothing at all is happening below his desk, as though my mouth is not stretched around his cock. A woman’s voice comes through, clipped and professional, reporting the materials he requested are ready. He is insane. He is well and truly, certifiably out of his mind, and I’m on my knees with his cock in my mouth proving it.

I try to pull off him, and his hand only bears down harder. The woman says she can send the files along by email, and I go loose with relief. An inbox delivery. She stays wherever she is.

Then Lev glances down at me with the smallest smirk. “Print them and bring them up now,” he says into the phone.

My eyes fly wide and I spit him out. “She’s going to walk in while I’m doing this,” I hiss.

He takes my jaw in one hand and guides his cock back between my lips. “I didn’t say you could stop.” He keeps talking work into the phone while I cannot process a single syllable, my whole face burning at the thick drag of him over my tongue.

He hangs up and shows no sign of being anywhere near finished. His stamina is unnatural. My tongue is going sore, and my jaw is beginning to ache.

Somewhere I read that a man’s energy is supposed to fall off after thirty. Nobody told his body that.

He taps the toe of his shoe against the open space beneath the desk. “Come here,” he says. It is wide enough to fold me under, so I crawl into the dark of it without ever letting him leave my mouth.

A polite knock lands on the door just as I duck out of sight. His cock twitches hot against my tongue.

“Come in,” Lev says, and his voice changes, smoothing into a clipped, businesslike calm.

Heels click across the floor, closer and closer, and stop directly behind me. My spine goes rigid.

“I sorted and printed everything you asked for, sir,” the woman says. Paper rustles as Lev flips through the pages without a hitch in his breath.

I keep working him slow and silent, barely letting a single wet sound escape. I don’t dare go still, and I don’t dare go fast enough to be heard. My heart hammers so loud I’m certain the woman standing a foot away can hear it through the desk. If she stepped around the side, if she dropped a single page, she would see exactly what her employer has folded away beneath his mahogany. The terror of getting caught should kill the heat in me.