by Emma York
It was the only thing I hadn’t done to her yet, though she had asked for it more than once. But I wanted to do things on my timetable. That was why I was planning to give her the gift in my desk after giving her this gift, giving her me, showing her how good it would feel to have me in her ass.
I slid the tip of me towards her pussy, dipping in just once before pulling out, shifting my position, lifting my feet, easing myself towards her ass. “Breathe,” I said as I pushed forwards, fighting the tension that resisted me until she relaxed enough. Then with a slight rocking of my hips, I was in, an inch of me inside her ass, the lube helping me glide gradually deeper as she moaned into the desk, the sound turning into a growl as I eased further and further, taking it slow, making sure she was ready for me.
The plugs had helped stretch her, she could take all of me as long as I didn’t rush. Finally, I was all the way inside, staring down at the intoxicating sight of my cock buried in her ass.
I started to rock slowly back and forth. “How does it feel?”
“So good,” she replied, pushing herself back onto me. “So, so good.”
“I want you to come for me,” I said, watching her hand move under her, seeking out her clit. She rubbed it in the way I would never tire of watching. Sometimes I just gave her the order to make herself come, just so I could watch. She’d done it at home. She’d done it here in the office and once, I’d made her do it in the park, while I sat on a nearby blanket, her face bright red, her eyes glancing around in case anyone might walk by. Several people did. She didn’t stop until I gave her permission. That was a good day out.
I knew when she was close. I could feel the muscles inside her tighten around me. “I’m coming,” she muttered. “Give it to me, give it to me.”
I took that as permission to go faster, sliding deep, starting to ram back and forth, knowing it wouldn’t be long before I came.
It wasn’t. Her orgasm had barely taken control of her before I lost it, spurting deep into her ass, loving the way she contracted around my cock, squeezing the last drops from me.
Afterwards, I dressed, leaving her draped over the desk. “Here,” I said, sliding a pen across to her. “Let’s get the schedule sorted.”
She reached with trembling fingers for her diary which sat at the edge of the desk. “Today, nothing until five. Hang on, there's something at five? I thought you were free to spend the day with me.”
“What’s my five o’clock say?”
She looked down at what I'd written. “It says to ask your P.A to marry you.”
Her eyes bolted up to me. I was ready, the box there in my outstretched hand. “When did you get that?” she asked, taking the box and looking incredulously down at it.
“Had it in the drawer.”
“Are you serious?”
“Will you or won’t you?”
“You are serious! I can’t believe you’re serious. We’ve only been together six months.”
“It’s long enough to be sure. I should have trusted my judgment the first day I met you. I wasted too much time staying in the past. I’d like to spend a lot more time in the future, in our future. If you’ll have me.”
“Of course I’ll have you.” She lifted the lid, gasping at the sparkling ring inside. “It’s beautiful.”
“As are you.”
She ran around the desk, throwing her arms around me. “Thank you,” she said, looking at the ring on her finger. “I can’t believe this is real.”
“There is a condition.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of condition?”
“Well, you’re supposed to honour and obey me, right?”
“Don’t I do that already?”
I pulled out the other box, the longer one.
“What’s this?”
“Have a look.”
She lifted out the contents, holding it up. “A collar?”
“A collar. May I?” I clicked it in place around her neck, slipping the silver chain through the loop at the front. “Now we're going to a very special club. Follow me.”
I took her out of the office, leading her towards the lift. I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to. I knew how happy she was. I was too. She was my Sub Rosa and she was all I needed. Now all we needed to do was see what happened during our first night at Club Darkness.
END OF BOOK
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Sub Rosa - Latin for "Under the rose," the phrase has been associated with secrecy for thousands of years ever since Harpocrates, the God of silence, received a rose from Cupid in return for keeping silent about the indiscretions of Venus. Roses were often carved into the ceilings above confessionals and banquet halls, a reminder to those below that what was said Sub Rosa should forever remain confidential.
ALSO BY THE SAME AUTHOR
BID ON ME
Emma York
I work behind the bar at a BDSM club.
Tonight is the virginity auction.
I didn't realise they were all bidding on me.
They all want to take my innocence.
There can only be one winner.
Ethan.
The hottest and richest billionaire in the room.
Now I'm part of his world.
He's bought me everything I ever wanted.
He's also bought my virginity.
Now he wants to get what he paid for.
Get it here.
DISCIPLINE
Emma York
I'm the first female boss of this office.
My assistant keeps staring at me.
I think he's just jealous.
When he gets me alone, he tells me the truth.
He's my secret billionaire boss.
He's going to punish me for treating him so badly.
Make me beg at his feet.
Because he's the boss.
And I need discipline.
Get it here.
ROOM TO LET
Emma York
I've been scouting for a film location for months.
Time's running out but I've finally found the perfect place.
It's the most beautiful castle I've ever seen.
I made the trip to Britain to get consent signed by the owner.
But when I arrived I discovered something I didn't expect.
He's as hot as the castle is beautiful.
He's just offered me a deal.
He'll sign if I do something I've never done before.
Submit.
Get it here
NEWSLETTER
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Emma York is the author of contemporary billionaire and bad boy romances featuring plenty of steam, a splash of BDSM, and the all important happy ever after.
Emma lives in Yorkshire with her wonderful partner and their pet dog. She loves roaming the wild and lonely moors for romantic inspiration before heading home to curl up by the fire with a good book and a pile of chocolate chip cookies.
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