Page 45 of Gunnar

“Fine,” I manage, my voice high and strained. “Just… stubbed my toe.”

Gunnar stills, fully seated inside me, throbbing against the tightness of my walls. He moves with slow, leisurely thrusts that I’m certain are designed to drive me absolutely mad. His hands roam over my body, cupping my breasts through the thin fabric of my dress, pinching my nipples until they’re hard and aching, then sliding down to grip my hips, the curve of my waist, and my ass. Every touch is deliberate and possessive, marking territory that he has already claimed.

“—and the red-carpet event is black tie, obviously,” Leslie drones on, her voice becoming background noise, white static against the symphony of sensation Gunnar is conducting between my thighs. “The designer is sending over a few options, but I think the emerald silk would be stunning against your coloring⁠—”

“Mmhmm,” I muster, a noncommittal sound that could mean anything. Gunnar’s hand snakes between my hips and the desk, his fingers finding my clit. He rubs in slow, tight circles that make my vision blur as he folds himself over me. “Green… is… good.”

He chuckles darkly behind me, the sound vibrating through his chest where it presses against my back. I feel it in my spine, echoing through my core, and to my throbbing, desperate center. He dusts his lips over my shoulder and his breath is hot and damp against my bare skin. “You’re being so good for me,” he whispers with his lips pressed to my ear. The words are barely audible, meant only for me, as Leslie lists seating arrangements and press obligations into the other.

“So fucking tight and wet. Can you feel how perfectly you fit around me, baby girl? Like you were made to take my cock. Like this pretty little pussy was designed to milk me dry.”

I bite my lip so hard, I taste copper, my free hand flying to my mouth and teeth sinking into the fleshy pad to stifle the moan that wants to tear itself from my throat. He keeps talking, his voice a low, filthy litany of praise and possession, describing exactly what he’s doing to me. I can barely hear Leslie as Gunnar tells me how good I feel, that I’m dripping down his shaft, and how greedily my little pussy is clenching around him to pull him deeper.

Everything dissolves into the leisurely rhythm of his hips rolling against me, hitting that spot inside that repeatedly makes stars burst behind my eyelids. I chew on my own palm, leaving crescent marks behind, my body trembling with the effort of keeping quiet as he brings me over the edge. He fucks me slowly and devastatingly deep, silently demanding another.

“—need your confirmation by end of day, Devyn,” Leslie says, and I have no idea what she’s talking about. In this moment, I couldn’t form a coherent thought if my life depended on it.

His thrusts unwavering in their pace, Gunnar’s voice is rough with arousal when he whispers, “Time to hang up, baby girl. I want to finish in that pretty little mouth of yours. I want your lips stretched around me as you swallow every drop.”

I clench around him at the thought, making him groan low in his throat.

“Leslie,” I sputter, my voice breaking and desperate. “I have to… I need to… There’s someone at the door. I’ll call you back.”

“Devyn, wait, we still need to discuss⁠—”

I don’t get to finish the excuse. Gunnar reaches around, his large hand covering mine. He plucks the phone from my trembling fingers and brings it to his own ear for a brief second. “She’ll call you back.” His voice is perfectly calm as he ends the call and tosses the phone onto the desk, where it slides across scattered papers and comes to rest against my laptop.

His hands wrapped around my body as he withdraws his cock. He pulls me up from the desk and turns me to face him. Dress wrinkled and panties askew, my body is flushed and trembling as he lifts me into him. His mouth crashes down on mine, his tongue sweeping inside, tasting me, claiming me, and sharing the flavor of my arousal that still lingers on his lips. The kiss is all-consuming. Gunnar’s hands frame my face, his thumbs stroking my jawline with a tenderness that contradicts the wild hunger in the way he devours me.

When he finally breaks away, we’re both breathing hard. His storm-blue eyes darken with intent as he commands softly, “On your knees.”

My body obeys before my mind can process the words. I sink to the floor, the surface cool against my knees, looking up at him from below. He towers over me, magnificent and imposing, his jeans splayed, and his cock glistening. The thick, hard length strains toward me as he gathers my hair in his hands. He twists it into a makeshift ponytail, wrapping the length around his fist, holding me in place with gentle but unyielding control.

I lean forward, parting my lips, and take him into my mouth. The tangy flavor of my own cum coating his heated length and his salty precum washes over my tongue. I moan around him, the vibration making him hiss, his hips bucking slightly before he regains his composure.

“Suck your delicious cunt off every inch of me,” he growls. “Every drop. Clean me up, baby girl. Show me how much you love what I do to you.”

I hollow my cheeks, taking him deeper, my tongue working along the underside of his shaft, tasting every ridge and feeling every vein, as his thighs tremble beneath my hands, where they grip him for balance. I work him with my mouth in slow, worshipful bobs that draw desperate sounds from him.

He strokes my cheek with his free hand, his touch soft and adoring. “Fuck… You are so fucking beautiful with my cock sliding between those pouty pink lips,” he breathes, his voice thick with awe and possession. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

I stare up at him through my lashes, and the sight steals my breath. His head is thrown back, the column of his throat working as he swallows. Gunnar’s jaw is tight with restraint, and his chest heaves with each ragged breath. Those storm-blue eyes of his are fixed on me with an intensity that makes me feel like the center of his universe.

“Fuck,” he chokes out, his grip tightening in my hair. His hips begin to lose their rhythm, stuttering in short, desperate thrusts. “Just like that… Watch what you fucking do to me… Watch how you destroy me, baby girl…”

His hips jerk, and his cock grows more rigid against my tongue. He comes hard, his release flooding my mouth in thick, salty spurts. I swallow greedily, taking everything he gives me, milking him with my lips and tongue as I suck him gently. He groans my name, his body shuddering through the aftershocks with his hand trembling in my hair.

When he finally stills and the last tremor has passed through his powerful frame, he looks down at me worshipfully. He strokes my cheek again, his thumb tracing my swollen lower lip, and he drags his softening cock from my mouth. “Perfect,” he whispers, his voice raw. “You’re fucking perfect.”

Lifting me as if I weigh nothing, he pulls me from my knees to my feet. Crushed against his chest, his arms band around me, holding me so tight I can barely breathe, as his mouth finds mine again.

The salt and musk of us sits on Devyn’s tongue. It’s intoxicating evidence of her submission, trust, and willingness to take everything I give her. I deepen the kiss, greedy for more—for all of her—as she melts against me like she’s forgotten how to stand on her own.

When I finally pull away, her lips are swollen and red from our kiss. Her eyes are glazed, and her pupils are blown wide with the aftermath of pleasure and lingering haze of desire. She’s devastatingly beautiful. With my hands cupping her face, I stare at her in awe for a moment, memorizing the flush of her cheeks, the emerald flecks of her eyes, and the slight tremor of her bottom lip where she bit it to keep from screaming.

I wrap my arms around her waist and lift her off the ground, her feet inches from the floor as I carry her across the room. I sink into the leather desk chair resting against the bookshelf from where I had kicked it earlier and pull her onto my lap. She comes willingly, settling into me like she belongs there. Like her petite body was carved to fit against mine. With her temple pressed against my jaw, her head settles into the crook of my neck. I wrap my arms around her, one hand spanning her lower back, the other tangling in the silk of her hair.

We sit in silence for a long time, the room filled with nothing but our slowing breaths, the distant crash of waves below, and the soft whisper of wind against the glass. The blue of the sky on the other side of the panes appears infinite, the golden sun slowly making its descent toward the horizon. The soft glow leaves dust motes dancing in the slanted light around us.