Page 50 of Keep Me Safe
“I did? The panties, too? Stand up so I can evaluate my purchase.”
I complied, thinking I could escape, but his firm hands grabbed my hips. His hooded gaze wandered over my curves, scorching me. It was an odd, exhilarating sensation that my skin was on fire yet covered with goosebumps.
Long fingers hooked under the waistband of my panties and tore them down my legs, and then he pressed me back against the desk so he could pull them past my shoes. It meant I was naked except for my red heels.
I asked it even when I knew the answer. “What are you doing?”
He tucked the panties into the interior pocket of his suit coat, giving me a wicked smile. “Taking what’s mine.”
When had I lost control? He coursed a hand between my legs, and every nerve in my body sizzled from his touch. God,it felt so good. I was going to melt and make a mess on his expensive desk.
“Shawn,” I gasped.
But he turned me around so I had my back to him and pulled me down on his lap, his shockingly hard dick pressing against me.
“Put your hands on the armrests,” he said.
I obeyed, because how could I not? The plan had been to leave him unsatisfied, but I’d known the risks. If honest, a part of me had hoped this was where my teasing would lead.
He had one hand on my thighs, urging them apart.
“Only so it’s fair,” he whispered and eased inside me.
Oh, my God. He was huge. It was so much at this angle, and I tried to raise myself off him, but it was futile. He knew exactly what he was doing, how to be patient so I could grow accustomed to his size. How to move to make it pleasurable and then how to move so I’d crave more.
Faster, and deeper.
I was letting him fuck me again. In his office chair, no less, his throne of power. I was naked except for the red heels. Damn him. I’d never wear them again.
Except, maybe, for him.
The chair squeaked quietly, and I could barely hear it over the blood roaring in my head. My heart raced at breakneck speed. I was shuddering and trembling and eager to keep the tempo he demanded with his hands on my waist.
“Is this what you came here for?” he asked, pushing himself somehow deeper inside. I let out a choked sob of pleasure. Tension built in my core, winding tighter with his every move.
“Do you want me to stop?”
No, I didn’t. I shook my head. The heat spreading through my body had scorched away my ability to speak, and the connection to him was overwhelming.
His German words filled my ears. His e-mail dinged on the computer. Then his mobile chimed a half-second later. He did not care. His strong, long-fingered hands roamed over my body, the skin of his palms caressing me, asking me to arch back into him. So he could turn my head to his and fill my mouth with his tongue.
The slide of his skin inside mine, combined with his touch, was my undoing, and my legs shook uncontrollably. A moan burst from my lips, louder than I’d expected.
“Fuck, Kara. You have no idea how much I want to hear you moan and scream,” he swallowed a breath, “but maybe . . . not right now. We don’t want them to know you’re fucking your new boss.”
I was out of breath, out of my mind. Filled with desire and lingering anger. “I’m not taking the job.”
“I need you here, in my city.”
His city? Like he owned the whole goddamn city? His office phone rang, but he ignored it.
He drove into me, relentless and merciless, and each thrust pushed me closer to the edge. It made thought utterly impossible. His fingers were everywhere—my breasts, in my mouth, between my legs. I trembled and reveled in his touch.
“I’m going to come,” I gasped. He kissed me intensely, not understanding my warning. If he wasn’t touching me, maybe I could have had a hope of staying quiet.
Then he plunged into me again.
“I’ll be loud.”
