Pov Author
His fingers left her aching peak, and Anna whimpered at the loss, her nails digging into his shoulders. A low chuckle rumbled from his chest—dark, satisfied.
"Patience," he murmured against her ear, his breath hot, sending shivers down her spine.
He gripped her thighs, pulling her to the edge of the desk. The wood was cold against her heated skin, a sharp contrast that made her gasp. His injured hand pressed beside her hip, the chill of his skin grounding her even as her mind spun.
His lips found her collarbone, trailing slow, deliberate kisses down the center of her chest. He paused just above her navel, looking up at her through hooded eyes.
She was trembling.
"You're shaking," he said, his voice low and rough.
"Then stop teasing," she breathed, her voice barely a whisper.
His smirk was sinful. "Never."
He dropped to his knees before her, his charcoal eyes never leaving hers. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties—black cotton, simple, already damp. He pulled them down slowly, inch by agonizing inch, letting the fabric drag over her skin before tossing them aside.
Anna's chest rose and fell rapidly, her hands gripping the edge of the desk behind her. She felt exposed, vulnerable, utterly at his mercy.
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh, then another, higher this time. Her breath hitched.
"Look at me," he commanded.
She obeyed, her eyes meeting his as his mouth descended where she needed him most.
A sharp cry escaped her lips, her head falling back before she forced it up again, unable to break his gaze. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate circles, building a pressure that coiled tight in her belly.
Her fingers found his hair, gripping hard as waves of pleasure crashed over her. His name left her lips like a prayer—broken, desperate.
He didn't stop. He pushed her further, his fingers joining his mouth, curling inside her as his tongue worked her relentlessly. The pressure inside her built to a blinding peak, her thighs trembling around his head.
"You're close," he said against her, the vibration of his voice sending her spiraling.
She shattered.
Her back arched, a choked moan tearing from her throat as the orgasm ripped through her, wave after wave leaving her breathless. He stayed with her, drawing out every last tremor until she slumped against the desk, utterly spent.
He rose slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. He leaned over her, caging her against the desk, his bare chest pressing against hers.
"Only if it's with me," he repeated, echoing her earlier words. "Let's see if you still mean that by the time I'm done with you."
Anna could barely catch her breath before his mouth was on hers again—hungry, demanding, tasting herself on his lips. She moaned into the kiss, her legs still trembling as they wrapped around his waist, pulling him flush against her.
She felt him then—hard, straining against the fabric of his jeans. The realization sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between her thighs.
He broke the kiss, both of them panting. His forehead pressed against hers, his charcoal eyes dark with restraint she hadn't expected.
"You have no idea what you do to me," he growled, his voice rough.
"Then show me," she whispered, her fingers trailing down his chest, over the ridges of his abs, stopping just above the waistband of his jeans.
His hand caught her wrist, stilling her. Not in denial—in warning.
"Once I start, I won't stop."
Her heart pounded. "I don't want you to."
Something snapped behind his eyes.
He straightened, grabbing her hips and flipping her onto her stomach on the desk in one swift motion. She gasped as her cheek met the cool wood, his body pressing against her from behind, pinning her in place.
His lips found her ear, his voice a low, dangerous murmur. "Good."
She heard the sound of his jeans unfastening, the rustle of fabric, then the heat of him pressing against her slick center. He didn't enter—not yet. He dragged himself through her folds, teasing, coating himself with her arousal, making her squirm beneath him.
"Please," she breathed, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk.
He pushed in.
Slowly. Deliberately. Every inch stretching her, filling her until she thought she couldn't take anymore. Her back arched, a desperate cry escaping her lips as he bottomed out, his hips flush against hers.
He stilled, giving her a moment to adjust. His hand slid up her spine, fingers tangling in her hair, tilting her head back.
"Eyes on me," he commanded.
She turned her head as much as she could, meeting his gaze over her shoulder. His jaw was tight, his chest heaving, every muscle in his body coiled with restraint.
"Say my name," he said, his voice barely controlled.
"Arin—"
He moved.
The first thrust drove the air from her lungs. The next stole her ability to think. He set a relentless pace, each stroke hitting deeper than the last, the sound of skin against skin filling the room.
Anna cried out, her nails scraping against the desk, pleasure building too fast, too much. He released her hair, his hand sliding around to splay across her stomach, pulling her back against him with every thrust.
"You feel that?" he growled against her ear. "That's mine now."
She couldn't form words, could only moan as he drove her higher, the pressure inside her coiling tighter than before.
His injured hand pressed flat on the desk beside hers—cold, a stark contrast to the heat consuming her. She reached for it, her fingers intertwining with his, and something in his rhythm faltered.
His grip tightened on her hand as his pace became more urgent, more desperate.
"Come for me," he ordered, his voice breaking. "Now."
Her body obeyed.
The orgasm crashed over her like a wave, stealing her scream as her walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper. He followed moments later, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he buried himself inside her, his body shuddering against hers.
They stayed like that, tangled together, breath mingling, hearts pounding in unison.
Slowly, he pulled out, turning her gently in his arms. Her legs gave out immediately, and he caught her, lowering them both to the floor, her back against his chest, his arms wrapped around her.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Anna stared at the ceiling, her body still humming, her mind blissfully blank. Then reality crept back in—what they'd done, what it meant.
She felt his lips press against her hair, soft now, the roughness gone.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
She nodded against his chest, then hesitated. "Are you?"
His arm tightened around her. A beat of silence stretched between them.
"I will be," he finally said, his voice carrying something she hadn't heard before.
Vulnerability.
Anna turned in his arms, looking up at him. His charcoal eyes met hers, walls lowered, raw and open.
She reached up, her fingers tracing his jaw, the bruise on his neck from where she'd bitten him earlier. A faint smile touched her lips.
"Only if it's with you," she repeated softly.
For the first time, he smiled back—small, genuine, dangerous in a different way entirely.
"You're going to be the death of me, Anna."
She leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
"Then at least you'll die happy."
To be continued...