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“Right,” he says, his voice shocking me into action. “My plan is to recoup the investment through a series of targeted improvements. I’m not talking about razing the place to the ground. That would be a waste.”
I sink slowly to my knees, feeling the pattern of the rug press against my skin, then lower my hands to the floor.
This is so hot, on the verge of degrading or maybe submission, that I have to stop and take a few deep breaths.
Graham snaps his fingers.
It’s one small sound and it draws my whole attention to him. His blue eyes are intense on mine as I begin to crawl across the rug.
He never looks away from me, even as he continues his conversation. It sounds to me like he’s talking about the deal he’s been working on—the one that’s been keeping him up at night, the one he can’t let go of even when it annoys the hell out of him—and it makes crawling across the floor even sexier. If he wants me to know about this conversation, he’ll tell me about it later.
What he wants more is to watch me crawl to him.
I take my time, making each movement as slow and languid as I can. I’m a foot away from him, maybe less, when Graham spreads his knees and unzips his pants.
My mouth waters and my breathing quickens as I settle between his feet.
Graham takes his cock out and runs his fist over it, biting his hip. “That’s fine,” he says, voice terse. “I’m switching over to my people now. Email me with anything else you need.”
He pauses, watching me, his hand still moving on his cock. He’s thick and long, and I’m far too eager to give him everything he wants.
“I’m off the call,” he says, and then he rattles off a list of details. I don’t really hear any of them. I’m too busy watching his hand. On the next downstroke, I lean in and lick his tip. The slit already has a bead of precum, and I lick it away before hollowing my cheeks and taking his head into my mouth. He’s smooth and already hard as iron. I cover my teeth with my lips and take more of him in.
Graham chokes back a groan. “Whatever you think. Just get it done.”
He hangs up and tosses his phone to the side. It bounces off the chair and falls to the carpet. Then his hands are in my hair and he guides me down his cock.
He’s so hard that he must’ve been thinking about this all day. If I’d known that note was on my door, I’d have thought about it all day, too. Graham’s hips thrust up as I take him deeper, my throat fluttering around him.
“Fuck,” he says, his voice strained. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.”
I continue, and his hands work through my hair and gather it away from my face so it doesn’t get in the way. I lick every inch of him that I can reach. I wrap one hand around his base and stroke. It’s wet and messy and I know damn well my lips will be swollen, my lipstick ruined. But to hear that groan and the way his breath hitches,I fucking love it.
My eyes sting and water as I take more of him down, eager to get him off.
Graham groans again and tells me to be a good girl and take it.
It doesn’t take much effort to stop my movements, not when he starts pumping into my mouth, holding my head gently while he does it.
After a minute he stops, pulling my head away. His abs bunch up below the waistband of his pants. His shirt is an untucked mess. Graham closes his eyes and breathes.
When he opens them again, all I can see his how much he wants me.
“Maddie,” he says, running the pad of his thumb over my cheekbone.
“Hi,” I breathe, not knowing what else to say and not caring.
He growls, and the next thing I know I’m being lifted off the floor and arranged on the chair on my knees, gripping the back of the chair. He rips the lace of my underwear at my entrance as he kisses my neck and tells me he’s wanted me all day. The fabric of Graham’s pants brushes against the backs of my thighs, and then he’s pushing into me, his fingers stroking my clit.
“You’re so fucking wet.” His first stroke is deep and hard and takes my breath away. “Did you think of me when you were at that office?” He questions between kisses down my neck and then shoulders.
“All day,” I tell him because it’s true. Every time I finished a task or started a new one or got a drink or ate my lunch or stapled some documents, I thought of him. He rakes his teeth over my shoulder, and I admit in a rushed breath, “I missed you.”
“You should have told me,” he scolds, and fucks into me harder. With a hand on my hip and the other gripping the back of my neck, he pounds into me.
I dig my fingers into the leather and nearly bite down on the back of it to stifle my moans. His fingers are taking me right to the edge. I can feel my orgasm gathering, centered over my clit and deep inside me. “Would you have come to the office and taken me?” I question, although I’m nearly breathless.
“I should have done it already,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.
