Sweet Possession Page 13

  I lean forward, giving him a better view of my cleavage and seeing him notice it instantly. “You touch me, and I leave. And I’ll do it without my coat on.” Yeah, right. I’m praying he doesn’t call my bluff on this one, because there’s no way in Hell I would walk outta here without being covered up.

  His eyebrow arches. “How long is this song?”

  “Four minutes and thirty three seconds.”

  “No fucking way. I’ll give you two minutes and then I’m touching every part of you.” He reaches out and runs his hand up my thigh, playing with the clips on my garter. I tremble at the contact. “What’s the second rule?”

  I smile slyly and stand up, seeing his body tense as I reach for him. “You only get to feel me.” His expression shifts quickly to confusion as I loosen his tie, pulling it out from underneath his collar and walking behind him. “And if you take your blindfold off, I’ll be withholding your orgasm.”

  “I can’t touch you or look at you? Not happening.” I’m quickly grabbed and pulled into his lap, his mouth firmly pressing against mine. “Nothing stands in my way of you.” He kisses me brutally, his tongue invading my mouth with firm strokes. “Nothing.”

  I pull back, which is an extremely difficult task, and grip his shoulders tightly. “Let me do this.” He starts to shake his head when I grab it, holding it in place. I drop my forehead to his and exhale softly. “Please. I love that you hate the idea of not being able to touch me or look at me, but I swear I’ll make it worth it.” His minty breath warms my face and I feel his muscles relax beneath me. “Let me properly thank you.”

  After several seconds of him contemplating my offer, he places the tie back in my hand, giving me the okay to follow through with this. Leaning closer to me, he presses his lips to my hair. “Make it count.”

  I shudder against him and bite my lip. Come on, Dylan. Focus.

  “Two minutes.” He pulls out his phone and sets his timer as I move behind him, draping the tie across his eyes.

  After securing it, I move around him, making sure to brush against his body as I reach for my phone and cue up the song. Leaning down, I brush my lips against his ear. “Are you ready, Mr. Carroll?” I whisper, hearing him inhale sharply at my words. The song starts playing and I watch him to gauge his reaction, seeing him smile immediately at my selection.

  “Two minutes,” he repeats, and I’m with him on this one. There’s no way I’m making it four minutes and thirty three seconds without begging him to touch me. No fucking way.

  “Two minutes,” I echo softly, feeling my skin flush at the thought of his hands on me.

  Two fucking minutes that, I’m sure, will feel like an eternity.

  “Do I Wanna Know?” begins playing throughout the office, the erotic tempo pulsing through the air. The bass is pumping through my body, slow and steady as I close my eyes and feel the music. It really is an insanely hot song, one that carries the perfect rhythm for fucking, or dancing. And in this case, the dancing comes first. This song holds so much history for us, and when I had decided this was going to be my response to his delivery, this song was the only song I thought of. I press the start timer on his phone and turn away from him, gripping his strong thighs with my hands. Spreading them open, I lower myself down and firmly brush my backside against his crotch along with the tempo. I repeat the motion several times, rubbing into his erection and feeling it twitch against me. He is already hard, no doubt from the sight of me in this lingerie he’s never seen before, but with each movement, he gets stiffer.

  “Shit, Dylan,” he pants, his voice strained and fragile.

  I’ve never heard him say my name like that. So delicately. Helpless even. I’m making him weak. Doing this to him, rubbing against his body with my own and not allowing him to touch me or see me is slowly pulling him apart. I sway my hips, continually brushing against the massive hard-on straining at the zipper of his khakis. I can see the outline of his cock, the heaviness of it and its perfect length tempting me. Take me out, Dylan. You know you wanna touch me. It’s insanely difficult to ignore, but I can handle two minutes. Leaning back against his chest, I feel his hot, panting breath on my bare shoulder as I grind to the music.

  “Mmm, you’re so hard for me.”

  “I’m always hard for you. Let me see you.”

  I groan softly, gripping his thighs and dipping my body between them. “Not yet.”

  He moans, lifting his pelvis to meet my movements. His hands are holding tightly to the arms of his chair, his knuckles stark-white. Low, rumbling groans escape his slightly parted lips as I press my body against his. I feel him shake against me with each breath he takes, straining to stay still and keep his hands off me. My body glides against him, swaying and pushing against his with a teasing pressure.

  “If I come in my pants, it’s your own damn fault.”

  I giggle, shaking it off instantly because I need to stay focused. I’ve never given a lap dance before and was actually worried walking in here that I wouldn’t be capable of pulling it off. But apparently, according to the reaction I’m getting from my sexy-as-fuck fiancé, I’m more than capable. I slide against his clothing, feeling him tremble slightly from the contact.

  “You’re doing so well, Mr. Carroll. Only one more minute.”

  Spinning around, I straddle one of his legs and lean in close. I hear his deep inhale as I brush my breasts against his face, letting him linger between them for several long seconds. His breath warms my chest, tickling between my breasts and instantly heating the area. He moans softly against my skin, his lips vibrating as he plants a gentle kiss to my breast before I pull back. I’ll allow that one touch, considering how good he’s being. I run my hands through his hair as I move to the beat, pulling on it slightly before I move down. Roaming over his broad shoulders, I squeeze gently and rub my hands down his heaving chest. His muscles contract beneath my touch, his torso pushing roughly into my palms. Aching for more. Begging for me to touch every inch of him. I’m insanely aroused right now, having gotten instantly wet when I stepped into this office. I’m certain my panties are drenched and I hardly care. I’m not stopping for anything.

  His face is tense, jaw locked tight and twitching ever so slightly. This is killing him and I know it. He hates not being able to touch me, and the reality of just how much he hates it fuels my actions. That and the fact he’s actually allowing this torture to happen, giving me the control which I’m sure isn’t easy for him. I begin to move faster, my hips gyrating with purpose against his thigh as my leg brushes against his cock. Reaching down, I palm the front of him and he grunts loudly, his head falling back against his chair and the veins in his neck pulsing. His breathing becomes more strained, blowing sharply across my face as I lean into him. Our lips are close, so close that if I moved in we’d be kissing, but I don’t. I drag my body against his instead, rubbing my breasts against his face and down to his chest. My hand cups around his length and he jerks against my touch. I want his hands on me, I want him all over me, but I can wait. Being this close to him, seeing what I can do to make him come apart is making this agony worth it. He flexes his hands and pounds his fists on the arm rest.

  “I’m fucking dying,” he grunts, dropping his head and brushing his face against my skin. “As soon as that alarm goes off, I’m bending you over my desk and fucking you harder than I ever have. Good luck walking out of here.”

  Jesus. I stumble a bit at his words. “Do you want to see what you’re doing to me?” I ask in my best seductive voice.

  He nods his answer, licking his lips.

  Dipping my hand down the front of my panties, I slide along my wetness and moan softly against my touch. I swipe my finger across his bottom lip and he opens immediately, pulling my finger into his mouth and sucking softly.

  “Kiss me,” he demands, his tongue running along his bottom lip. Fuck it. I lean forward and brush my lips against his, my soft kiss quickly getting overpowered by his rough one. He assaults my mouth with his, and we’re al
l tongues, lips, and sharp breaths in this moment. I wouldn’t even classify this as kissing; this is primal and borderline dangerous. My lips hurt from the contact but I don’t care. Nothing could pry me off this man. I bite down on his bottom lip and he groans into my mouth, the metallic taste of blood mixing with our saliva. It’s hot, really fucking hot, and I’m praying for the two minutes to hurry the hell up already. The alarm on his phone beeps and my stomach tightens, a soft gasp escaping my lips. This is it.

  “Touch me,” I whisper.

  “About fucking time.” His hands immediately rip his tie off and spin me in his lap, bending me forward. “Grab my desk and don’t let go.”

  I do as I’m told, quickly pushing to my feet as he stands behind me. My arms are shaking and my legs are struggling to keep myself still and upright. “God, I’m so wet for you,” I whimper, hearing the sound of his belt being loosened behind me. I’m more than ready for this and I want it hard. He can make love to me later. Right now, I want dominant Reese and I know I’m about to get it.

  He slides my panties down my legs, tapping each ankle for me to lift them. I look over my shoulder and see him slipping them into his pocket, a lustful smirk forming on his lips.

  “I wanna make you scream so bad, but I fucking can’t. You had to pull this shit at my work instead of waiting ‘til I got home to tease me?”

  “I couldn’t wait.”

  “Neither can I.” He enters me forcefully, the impact knocking the air out of my lungs and causing my body to collapse on his desk. His arm wraps around my waist and pulls me back up. “I said don’t let go,” he commands, and my hands grip firmly onto the edge of the desk. Slamming into me, he rocks my body forward with each thrust.

  “Oh, God,” I yell, causing his hand to wrap around my face and muffle my sounds. Each push is more powerful than the next and I’m crying out, unable to control my response to him. My body bends forward as he picks up his pace. His free hand grips my hip tightly, pulling my body back to meet his every push. I close my eyes and feel him, just him. His hand digging into the skin of my hip, hopefully marking me where only he has touched me. His cock and the way it barrels into me. His warm breath, short quick bursts of air on my back.

  “If I move my hand, will you be quiet?” he asks and I quickly shake my head. No way. “Good girl. I love that you can’t control yourself when I’m fucking you.” His hips crash against me and I moan into his hand. “My girl likes it rough, doesn’t she?” I nod quickly and he drives harder, my body slamming against the desk. My thighs sting from the contact but I don’t care. My body is so primed for him and whatever he has to offer, I’ll fucking take.

  I don’t know how he does it, but he manages to keep his sounds to a minimum, the loudest noise coming from the impact of our bodies striking against each other’s. The slapping sound fills the office, mixing with my muffled whimpers and Reese’s breathing. It really is hot, the sound of our bodies coming together in this heated moment. My core constricts and I feel a tightness forming between my legs.

  “Turn around.” He pulls out of me and turns me before I can even think to move. Lifting me slightly, he sets me on the edge of the desk and grabs my legs, wrapping them around his waist. He grabs my face and commands my attention. “You remember what I said about these shoes?” he asks, his voice gritty and urgent. I nod, unable to speak due to my ragged breathing, but I definitely remember. He enters me to the hilt and I brace myself on his desk, flattening my hands on the wood. “Do it.”

  As soon as he begins fucking me, I arch my back to give myself leverage and bear down with my legs, digging my heels into his back. He growls his response, throwing his head back as he barrels into me.

  “I’m so close.” Reaching up, I grab onto his bicep and dig my nails in as I anchor my heels into him.

  His hand grips my neck, pulling my face into his and crashing our mouths together. “Come on my cock. Let me feel it.” And at those words and the commanding tone behind them, I lose control.

  He thrusts into me harder, gripping my neck with one hand and my hip with the other. I’m biting my tongue to keep myself from screaming, certain he’s going to either snap me in half or the desk he’s fucking me against. But considering the car currently parked outside, I’m sure he can afford another desk.

  “Fuck, yes. I love this pussy,” Reese pants, the veins in his neck protruding and his forehead beading with sweat. He keeps his eyes on me, allowing me to watch him unravel as he plunges into me once, twice, and then a third time before he drops his head against mine. I let my legs fall limp around his side, not having the strength to dig them into anything anymore.

  “Thank you for my car,” I say softly, not missing the way his lip curls up into a half-smile. I reach over and hit the stop button on my phone.

  He slowly pulls out of me, holding up a finger for me not to move as he tucks himself away. Opening his desk drawer, he grabs a few tissues and wipes me clean. “I was half-expecting you to refuse it.”

  I laugh subtly. “Have you seen the car? Sam will completely understand my reasoning for not driving him everywhere now.” I hop off the desk as he tosses the tissues into the waste basket. “You didn’t take out a massive loan to afford that, did you?”

  He sits down in his high-back leather chair and pulls my panties from his pocket. “Come here.” I stand in front of him and he allows me to step back into them, keeping his eyes on me as he slides them up my legs. “Only because you have to walk out of here. Otherwise, these would be mine.”

  “You know, one of these days I’m going to find your hidden stash of my lingerie. And I will be getting every single pair back.”

  “Good luck with that.” He taps his lap and I scramble onto it, wrapping my arms around his neck. “And to answer your question, no, I did not take out a massive loan. We got paid from that account with Bryce.”

  My stomach knots up temporarily at the sound of that asshole’s name. “So, you saw him?” I twist in his lap, glancing down at his hands wrapped around me and checking for any visible bruises or cuts. This is a justified inspection and he allows it, laughing quietly while I do it. When I’ve thoroughly examined both, I turn my attention back to him. “And you didn’t hit him?”

  “I didn’t see him. Ian met with him. I had some other stuff I was trying to take care of.”

  “What other stuff?” He gives me the same look he gave me on the couch when he wouldn’t elaborate on why this account was so important. Before I took his vague trust me reasoning without question. Now I can’t hide the slight irritation bubbling inside me. Why is this such a secret? Is it really that crucial I not find out about anything?

  I shake off these questions, grabbing his face and planting a kiss to his lips. “I should go before Joey and Brooke kill each other.”

  I stand and round his desk, grabbing my coat and slipping it on. I push the questions filling my head about this account aside, not needing any additional stress. And I do trust Reese. I know he’ll tell me when he can, so I’m not going to worry about this.

  As I’m securing the belt around my waist, his arms wrap around me and pull me back against his chest. He roughly exhales into my hair before pressing his lips to the shell of my ear. “Three days,” he whispers before kissing down my neck as he slips my phone into my pocket.

  “Mmm. You keep doing that and I’m never going to leave here.”

  “Don’t give me any ideas.” His arms release their hold on me, allowing me to walk toward the door. I grab the handle, glancing once more over my shoulder and seeing him perched on his desk. Hands gripping the edge. Feet crossed in front of him. Cocky, sexy-as-fuck smile growing on his face. It’s the same position he was in all those months ago when I came storming into this very office to confront him on being married. I slapped the shit out of him, found out he wasn’t married, and then proceeded to blow him behind the very desk I was just fucked against.

  So many memories in this office. Mostly sex-filled, but I’m not complaining.
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  “I’m glad you weren’t married,” I say, seeing the confusion wash over him momentarily before he realizes the meaning of my words. He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t need to because the look he’s giving me right now is speaking for him. It’s the look I always find him giving me when I catch him watching me. Like he’s just now seeing me for the first time. It’s a look I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to, because it still has the same effect on me as the first time I saw it at Justin’s wedding. When I stood up from his lap and spun around, getting my first real look at the man who would completely change my life. My bones seem to vibrate while my heart beat fills my ears. I would do anything for this look. For this man. And it takes every ounce of effort I can muster to leave this room. But I manage, giving him a wink and seeing my favorite smile lines appear next to his eyes before I close the door behind me.

  I pull myself together enough to give Dave a wave and a smile, getting a very enthusiastic one in return.

  “Can’t wait for Saturday,” he excitedly declares, holding up the wedding invitation he’s kept on his desk since I delivered it to him months ago.

  “Me either,” I reply with a smile that literally makes my cheeks ache. But it’s hard to not react that way when someone mentions Saturday.

  I step into the empty elevator, hitting the lobby button before I lean back against the wall. Glancing down at my left hand, I study my engagement ring, which I find myself doing a lot lately. I never take it off: not before bed, not while I bake, never. I think it’s common for girls to imagine what their ideal engagement ring would look like. To have a specific diamond cut in mind or at least know whether they want platinum or gold. But I never thought about it. I never once had a preference until Reese slipped this ring on my finger in the middle of my bakery kitchen. This elegant, princess-cut diamond is the ring I was always meant to wear. It’s the ring I would’ve picked out myself, but the fact that Reese designed this specifically for me is the main reason I adore it. I can picture him sitting down with the jeweler, having an exact idea in mind and not settling for anything less. I can also imagine how messy his hair looked during that design process.