His gaze drifted over my face, tracing every line, curve, feature, freckle. “All mine,” he whispered.
I licked my lips when his eyes dropped to my mouth. But he didn’t swoop down and claim it as I’d expected. Instead, he dabbed a soft kiss to the corner of my eyelid. It was sweet, sure, but I wanted his mouth on mine.
I didn’t get it.
He breezed his lips over my eyelids and then began to whisper butterfly kisses along the sides of my face. Every touch was featherlight, even the nip to my jaw, awakening every nerve-ending and feeding the sexual tension that had snapped the air taut.
I sank into the moment, letting my body go soft and pliant against his. His low growl of approval tightened my nipples and made my blood thicken.
His cock, hardening fast, aggressively dug into my stomach. But he didn’t grind against me. Didn’t lay a demanding kiss on me. He hovered his mouth a mere inch above mine, stared deeply into my eyes, hiding nothing, seeing everything. Anticipation spiraled through me and wound me excruciatingly tight.
I sucked on his lower lip. He squeezed my throat and pulled back. Okay, I got the message. I was just supposed to take what he gave. But it didn’t piss me off, because there was no bossiness there. It was like he meant it as a gift. Like he was communicating something and didn’t want to be interrupted.
I parted my lips in invitation, half-expecting him to turn it down. He didn’t. He dipped his tongue inside and ran it along the inside of my upper lip, but then he pulled back again. I checked the urge to chase his mouth, knowing it would get me nowhere. As if to reward me for that, he gently sucked my tongue. First slow, then fast, then slow again, ramping up the intensity.
Then, finally, he drove his tongue into my mouth and glided it against my own. He didn’t rush or plunder. No, it was a slow-motion kiss. He lingered. Sampled. Relished. Savored. Treated my mouth like it was some kind of dessert that he wanted to slowly enjoy.
It was sensual. Electric. Magic. He made kissing a fucking art, subjecting me to a swirl of luscious sensation; sharpening my attention onto him. All I could feel was his mouth and hands. All I could taste was him. All I could smell was that intoxicating cologne he wore. Even my thoughts centered around him, freeing me of every worry. It felt like the world was spinning around me. Like he was the only thing standing still.
He roughly angled my head, letting me feel a nip of pain, and a full-body shiver skated over me. He didn’t then finally devour my mouth as I expected. His kiss was slow and wet and lazy, but it was by no means tame or easy. It vibrated with the same addictive dominance that it always did.
His mouth was so soft and warm and skilled as it ruled my own. My breaths turned into shallow pants, and I felt a flush sweep up my chest, neck, and face.
His grip on my throat remained firm and possessive. His thumb occasionally breezed up and down my neck, which seemed hypersensitive. God, I didn’t think my sensory awareness had ever been so acute. Everything felt enhanced. Every flick of his tongue, every graze of his teeth, every brush of his lips, every scrape of his blunt nails on my scalp.
I tried deepening the kiss, but the hand in my hair tightened enough to make me wince, warning me he was in control. I almost sobbed. My body was a mass of racing chemicals and pent up sexual frustration, hungry for more. No, I needed more.
He didn’t give it to me. He swiped his tongue over my lip, prolonging the torture. Making me wait for another kiss. Making me crave more.
A whole bunch of emotions swam through me. Anticipation. Pleasure. Excitement. Want. Need. I couldn’t take the teasing anymore. I couldn’t.
“Dane,” I rasped, my voice laced with desperation.
He growled and slammed his mouth down on mine, sinking his tongue inside. It was like tossing gunpowder on a naked flame. An atomic blast of raw need ignited us both.
He kissed me so hard and deep and hungrily I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t need to. He breathed for me. I breathed for him.
My mind and body felt drunk on sensation and the endorphins flooding me. My entire system went into maximum overdrive. I didn’t know how I’d ever come down from it.
We pulled and yanked at each other’s clothes, whipping them off piece by piece. We were both out of control. Both at the mercy of a viciously sexual need that demanded to be slaked.
Still eating at my mouth, he backed me into his desk. He swiped some things aside and then whirled me around. “Bend over.”
I complied, gasping as my breasts rested on the cool surface, and gripped the edges of the desk.
“That’s my girl.”
One finger plunged inside me and swirled around. My inner muscles clamped down, determined to keep it.
“Already so wet.” He slowly pumped his finger. “Four fucking years I imagined bending you over a desk—sometimes this one; sometimes the one at o-Verve. It’s only gotten worse since I made you mine. I’m supposed to be concentrating on work. Instead, I’m thinking about how hot your pussy looks when it has my dick buried in it.”
I jolted as his free hand came down sharply on my ass. “The fuck was that for?”
“Signing divorce papers; thinking of leaving me.” He curled his body over mine and spoke into my ear. “For that, you don’t get to make a sound until I tell you that you can.”
I gaped. “You can’t tell me to stay quiet.”
“Wrong. I own your mouth. If I tell you to keep it closed, you do it.”
“There’s no way I’ll—” I flinched as he slapped my ass again. “Ow. That one really hurt.”
“The next one will hurt worse, so be quiet and I won’t have to spank you again.” Straightening, he withdrew his finger and replaced it with the broad head of his cock. “Remember, not a sound.” He bunched my hair in his hand, snatched my head back, and slammed home.
The breath whooshed out of my lungs as I found myself stuffed full of every hard, thick inch of him. I could feel his dick throbbing against my inner walls; could feel every beat of his heart.
He groaned. “Love being in this pussy. Love filling it with my come.” He began to mercilessly hammer into me at a frenzied pace.
I clamped my mouth shut to hold back my cries. Every hard lunge of his cock hit me so deliciously deep. I tried throwing back my hips to meet his thrusts, but his fingers dug into one globe of my ass and held me still for his possession. All I could do was cling to his desk and enjoy the ride.
His cock sliced through me over and over, stretching and rasping against my hypersensitive inner walls. Dane’s grunts rang through the air, mingling with the sound of flesh smacking wet flesh.
He didn’t relax his death grip on my hair, but I liked it. Liked how he held me in place as he took what he wanted from me, as if my pleasure didn’t matter to him. Because I knew it did matter; knew he could make me come so hard I’d feel it in my teeth.
“That’s it, baby girl, stay nice and quiet while I fuck you,” he said, still driving hard and fast. “So good for me.” The note of pride in his voice danced over my skin.
Friction coiled low in my stomach, and my pussy kept on quaking around him. I squeezed my eyes shut, as if it would help me hold in the moans that clogged my throat. I was determined not to make a sound. Not because I was scared of being spanked again, but because I liked hearing pride in his tone.