by Mia Watts
Flora lifted her hips to his cock, grinding on him. If he wouldn’t give it to her, she would give it to herself, damn him.
“I said, no, Flora. You aren’t rushing it this time. You’re going to take it slow if I have to drag this out all day.”
Slow? What the fuck? She didn’t fucking want slow. She wanted immediate release, damn it. “I don’t want slow.”
“No kidding,” he said, panting. “Believe me, there’s nothing I want more than to bury my cock inside you right now, but I’m not letting you hide from this.”
“Who’s hiding? I’m open for display across my desk, going against every principle I have about fucking a co-worker. I’m naked, and you’ve had my cunt attached to your lips for the past few minutes, driving me crazy. If the office doesn’t know we’re getting busy yet, then they’re deaf.”
“I’m not rushing this. I bet you’re great at begging.”
“What?” she screeched. “Hell no!”
“Hell yes.”
“For the love of all things holy, fuck me, Ian.” Flora’s folds shivered against his latex covered rod. Her clit twinged happily as every breath throughout their discussion caused the smallest friction to tease it. His balls tickled her ass when she struggled, swaying against her in a way that had her struggling more just to feel them bounce, feel the cock-heated latex brush against her clit.
“I will definitely do that.”
“Then what’s the problem? Do it now,” she pleaded. He’d put the pause button on her orgasm, but it was still within reach. Just a little more stimulation and she’d be golden.
“You’re gorgeous when you get pissed,” he said.
His lips hovered over hers. Flora craned her neck, boldly making contact. Ian settled his pelvis gently against her splayed body, seeming to take great care that he not hurt her as he pinned her down to keep her from moving against his throbbing penis.
It twitched, nestled in her folds, and they both groaned, sharing the sound in an open mouth kiss.
“You should see me when I’m pissed and wearing makeup,” she said.
“I have.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“I definitely prefer you unmade. It’s sexy as hell to see you undone and still begging for it,” he murmured.
His tight abs flattened on her belly, his ribs pressed hers almost painfully. The angle was wrong for her breasts to smash against his chest, yet her nipples grazed it, which tantalized her impossibly more.
Flora wrapped her legs around his waist. How was it that she could feel so close to him like this when she’d never felt this close to another lover, and she had yet to actually have intercourse with Ian?
He shook her to the soul. She craved whatever he would give her. She didn’t like it one bit. She should tell him to get off and go away. She should tell him she wasn’t interested and only wanted to see if he was a good fuck. What he did, this prolonging of sex, made her distinctly uncomfortable.
Flora didn’t do commitment. This felt way too much like it was headed in that direction. “If you don’t continue, I’ll finish myself off.”
“No you won’t. I won’t let you, remember? This is a joint showing of talents, and fucking you slowly is at the top of my play book.”
She thought she was ready. When Ian lifted off her, she wasn’t prepared for the way he flipped her onto her stomach, grabbed her hips, and dragged her back until her feet touched the floor. The tip of his cock nudged her pussy and she couldn’t help but tip her hips back to meet him. Ian slid in, stretching her as he filled her inch by loving inch, making her groan as his slow possession forced her to think about what they were doing.
It’s why she liked fast fucks—why when she actually had sex, she liked the quick satisfaction. It didn’t require thought. Consciously accepting her partner’s length and girth got lost in the torrid moment until it ended and she could chalk him up as a nameless, inconsequential lay to be lost among other conquests.
Ian didn’t allow her to categorize him like the others. Did he realize that making her feel every part of him as he entered her with painfully slow precision would make it impossible for her to lump him in with the others?
She gripped her desk and tried to block out the intimacy, but her thoughts coalesced on the differences, on the sensations unique to Ian being inside her which far surpassed the hurried couplings she’d had prior.
He reached the end of her channel and yet with a moderated roll of his hips, he pushed at the firm muscles making up her cervix. She felt its solid resistance against his cockhead and her body’s slight muscular tremble as nerves she’d never given much thought to woke.
“Do you feel me?” he murmured, holding still inside her. “I feel you, Flora. Your body is taking mine, adjusting, responding.”
He rolled his hips and her body’s muscular resistance quaked with every intimate nerve, filling her belly and chest with strange, tight fluttering. Ian smoothed his hand down her spine, rocked his hips liquidly against her ass. Another groan tore from her throat where she’d been holding it captive since he first entered her.
Ian pulled out of her just as slowly as he’d entered. Where he’d stretched, now felt hollow. Where his head had nudged, now felt the pathetic lack of stimulation. He left her body at a creeping pace. Flora’s moan this time had nothing to do with unspeakable pleasure and everything to do with acute loss.
Moisture gathered in her eyes as she fought the urge to cry. Ian was breaking her. How would she ever be with a man again and not remember this moment when sex became a dance of need, fulfillment, desire, and sorrow. Her body ached for him to fill her.
She refused to ask, bit her lip to keep the plea from spilling forth.
She nearly sobbed when his cock parted her folds in his unhurried devastation to her sexual defenses. He reached her center, pushing into the springy hold and setting her nerves into a riot of immeasurable bliss.
“Ian, please,” she begged, unable to stop herself.
He reached around and between her legs. Sliding his fingers on either side of her clitoris, his touch was studiously distant from where she wanted it, but close enough to curl her toes with the possibility that it would take her to orgasm.
Ian set up a measured pace, moving in and out of her grasping pussy while loosely cradling her desperate nub. Too far, too close, too slow, not slow enough, he kept her just on the wrong side of the peak she yearned for. She hated what he made her feel. She loved it with every fiber of her being. She wanted more, faster. She wanted his pace to take a more agonizing delay.
Flora rubbed her eyes and cheeks on her wrist when the moisture from her unconscious tears distracted her.
His fingers closed in on her clit, one pad stealing over the swollen nub. She gasped, ground her hips backward meeting his soul-stealing thrusts. Her breath quickened as she sensed the climax nearing. Ian gave her three hard, fast thrusts, pounding her pussy and squeezing her clit between his fingers.
The burn summoned her toward the end, called her like a siren.
Ian pulled out of her.
“Ian, goddamn it!”
He pressed a soft trail of kissed down her spine. “Not yet, baby.”
Flora felt like crying. She’d been so close. She wanted it more than she wanted her next breath. Her legs trembled with a combination of fatigue and sensory overload.
He kneeled behind her and kissed her inner thighs, her ass, her pussy. He stood and helped her upright, lifted her and carried her to the ottoman bench in front of the seating area.
She cuddled into his arms feeling simultaneously conquered and adored. It made no sense, yet giddily, she wanted to know what came next. He set her down on her back as though she were precious. Brushing the hair off her forehead, he bent and kissed the tip of her nose.
“I want to see you when you come.”
Her pussy throbbed. Her body still shimmered with need. She wanted to tell him to quit teasing her, but her pride still rose up between them.
“
I’m not just a fuck,” he said, a small smile touching his lips.
She blinked back the affect his words had on her, the same she’d been trying to deny though she knew it to be true. Ian Tate would never be just a fuck. He’d seen to that as though he’d read her mind and set out to prove a point.
His gaze held hers until she felt compelled to nod minutely.
———
Ian’s chest relaxed with her nod. Getting her to agree, however superficially, was half the battle. If she could agree, she might come to believe it. He didn’t think she believed it yet.
He wanted her. He ached with wanting her. Holding back the building tension as her body gloved his cock, milked him, clung to his length with greedy demand. Every internal clench held him as though it were the sexual equivalent of a gasp—shocked, desperate to keep the sensation where it was, but unable to resist the reflexes of her body’s demand.
His need mirrored hers. He just had to keep it under wraps. If he let up, gave Flora one iota of relief, she’d take back the control he’d been systematically stripping from her. Wound up so tight he could hear her springs creaking, Flora was a woman who demanded things be done her way. And as long as they were, no man would actually touch her.
It was simple.
Flora rushed sex. She had it and moved on to the next item on her agenda. If he hoped to get a glimpse of the woman behind the order, he had to change her pattern, slow her down, make her live in the moment.
“Kiss me,” he said.
Her eyes darted between his. Her lips alternately pressed and relaxed as though she were debating the wisdom of his request, yet found no fault in it.
Ian trailed his fingers from her shoulder, over her breast to her waist and the flair of her hips. She licked her lips and arched to kiss him. He found himself smiling at the awkward tentative nature of it after the way she’d twisted in unabashed urgency as he fed on her pussy.
He’d given her too much time to think. That would have to change.
Reaching between her legs, he unerringly found her clit and pinched. “I said kiss me.”
Breath exploded from her as she grabbed his face between her hands and yanked him to her. “Do it again.”
God, why couldn’t she just do as she was told? Why did everything have to be a competition? Her body trembled visibly with need, and still she fought him over a kiss.
Ian’s balls ached. The condom was plastered to his cockhead with the abundance of pre-cum leaking from his dick. He wanted nothing more than to plunge in and out of her slick, grasping heat and lose himself to satisfaction streaking up his shaft and emptying his balls.
Flora made him crazy.
“Kiss me.”
She hesitated only a moment before she obeyed. Flora crushed her mouth against his with bruising force. Ian withdrew his hand and she whimpered. Her breath fluttered on his lips before taking a gentler approach.
He cupped her mound as encouragement.
Flora’s tongue flicked out, tasting the center of his upper lip then fusing their mouths in easy supplication.
Petting her curls, he indirectly coaxed her to continue.
She was a fast learner. Her lips parted beneath his, and he followed suit, loving the slide of her tender mouth on his. Their tongues touched, greeted each other flirtatiously. His circled the tip of hers. When her fingers speared his hair, using it to pull him closer without the anxious rush she’d been showing, he groaned.
She welcomed him to taste her, explore her mouth with the same thorough speed he’d adopted to their lovemaking. Moisture cooled on his fingertips as he felt the evidence that she was as aroused as he was. He wanted to touch her, needed to hear her gasp again.
Ian traced the seam of her pussy, pushed inside and pinched her clit. The shuddering breath and slight quiver of her mouth nearly stripped his self-control. Flora rested on the ottoman, staring up into his eyes.
“Please, Ian. Please take me.”
The request, so sweetly uttered, came with great difficulty. The woman under him, stripped of clothing and pride, didn’t seem like the conniving blackmailing bitch Bobby insisted she was. Flora was merely a woman who trusted her satisfaction to a man for the first time in a long time—a virgin in giving herself over to a man’s control.
She wanted what he could give her, and damn if it wasn’t a total fucking turn on.
“I’m not taking you anywhere I’m not going, too,” he murmured, peppering kissed on her cheekbone, her jaw, her winging collarbone. His thumb rolled over her clit and he slid two fingers into her channel.
“Do you want me to beg? I’ll beg. Tell me what you want,” she said, nearly frantic.
“I won’t fuck you, or take you, or make you take me. This isn’t sex the way you want it to be. Not this time, beautiful. This,” he said at her nipple, letting the heat of his words wash over and pucker the already wrinkled flesh. He flicked his tongue out to tease it further. “This is making love and it’s a joint activity. We can fuck some other time.”
His mouth closed on her breast as he pumped his fingers inside her and then dragged his cunt-wetted fingers through her folds, giving her clitoris one last pinch.
She clawed at his back. “Yes, please. Make love to me,” she begged.
He glanced up, seeing the sheen of tears at the outer corners of her eyes. His chest tightened at the beauty of her capitulation. Ian withdrew his hand. Kneeling between her legs, he tucked his hands under her arms and lifted her upright. He sat her on his waiting, throbbing cock, parting his thighs to spread her wide.
Flora’s legs encircled his hips and she clung to his shoulders. He caught her by the hips, rocking her and lifting her as she took him, sank down his length, her head thrown back as though she couldn’t contain the scope of her pleasure.
His balls drew up and he willed himself to hold off. “You feel amazing.” Taking advantage of her exposed neck, Ian dragged his lips up the slim column of her throat. He found a quick tattooing pulse and grazed his teeth there before kissing it.
Flora rose and fell, shuddering each time he filled her. Chills pooled at the base of his spine. He wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer. She picked up speed, rolled her hips when she pulled up to hit a spot only she could find but managed to make him crazy with need, too.
“Open your eyes,” he commanded.
When she didn’t, he buried his hand in the hair at the back of her skull and forced her head up while trapping her on the downward stroke with the his other arm around her waist.
“Open them.”
Her brow furrowed but she opened them. He stared into the tawny depths nearly eclipsed by dilated pupils. He lifted their bodies, taking their weight as he kneeled. He kept her in place, hand in her hair and making her connect with her eyes.
Sure he had her attention and about to lose the battle of wills, he pistoned his hips, flexing and thrusting with renewed vigor. Slow no longer cut it for either of them.
Her legs tightened around him. The walls of her sex clamped hard as the first quakes of orgasm began. He grunted, slamming their bodies together.
Flora’s cries rose in pitch, carried on breathy gasps. Her eyes glazed over and her brows climbed her forehead. His gaze traced the perfect “O” formed by plump lips and he wondered fleetingly how it would feel to have that mouth sucking him off.
“Are you with me?” he grunted. Sweat trickled down his spine, rolled between his ass cheeks.
“Yes,” she panted. “Yes. Yes.”
Ian popped his hips up, striking the back of her channel. Flora bit down on her bottom lip, stifling her scream as she came and came, milking his cock and wringing an answering orgasm out of him. As though a dam burst, his balls squeezed hard, shooting cum up his cock and emptying him in sharp thick spurts. Her sweet cunt continued to flex in subtle aftershocks.
Flora dropped her face to his neck, cuddling against him.
Ian lowered them both to the ottoman, careful to settle her in his arms while staying lin
ked. “Thank you for coming with me,” he murmured at her temple.
Flora shook her head against his neck ever so slightly and held him closer. “I didn’t know,” she said.
“What didn’t you know, sweetheart?”
“I didn’t know it could be like that.”
He hadn’t either. One thing he did know was that he had to get to the bottom of why Bobby wanted her compromised. He trusted his uncle, but that didn’t mean his information wasn’t wrong. Yet the passionate, closed woman he’d just climbed to the stars with could very well be hiding something more than her heart.
Ian ducked his head. He breathed in the slight cinnamon and berry fragrance at the nape of her neck, rubbed his cheek along the top of her shoulder, then placed a kiss on Flora’s supple honeyed skin. Would he ever get enough of her?
“We should get dressed,” he said, kissed a spot next to the first.
“Done with me all ready?” she teased.
“Not even close.” He didn’t know if that admission was a blessing or a curse. Guilty or not, Flora Harper would be impossible to root out of his system. What the fuck had he just done?
Chapter Eight
What the fuck had she just done? Begged a man to take her? In her office? The schedule she kept meant she’d overlooked several appointments for their rendezvous. She wouldn’t have an explanation for it and she’d acted completely out of character to take such an unprofessional risk.
At what cost?
“Ian,” she began, trying to carefully voice her concerns. She sat up. His hand moved to her hip, stroked the protruding bone absently. “Why did you follow me here?”
“What?” he asked, laughing as he, too, sat.
Flora stood, walked casually to where they’d left their clothes. She could practically feel his gaze moving over her bare body, lingering on her ass. Her pussy tingled. From his angle, he could probably see the curls shadowed between her upper thighs with each step away from him.
She crouched to swipe up the jersey. No reason to give him more of a show until she knew what he was about. The faced him, pulled the shirt over her head, and let the material fall into place.
