Big Shot(48)
She blinked at him, much too innocently, and one side of his mouth curled up in a sinful smile. “You know what I want, baby,” he murmured in a low, commanding tone. “You know what I’m waiting for.”
Biting her sexy lower lip, she turned around, shimmied the hem of her skirt up over her hips to her waist, then bent over his desk with her hands braced on top. Her back was arched so sensually, her ass smooth and bare as she looked over her shoulder at him, her gaze heavy-lidded with heat and a forbidden anticipation.
“Spank me, Wes.”
She was waiting for him to play out this fantasy however he wanted, giving him all the control. He stroked his palm over one soft, pale cheek, and when she least expected it, he gave the one side a sharp, stinging slap that made her gasp, then moan for more.
“Such a naughty, naughty Minx.” His minx, he thought possessively, and landed another smack to the other mound. Her skin turned warm and pink, her thighs quivered, and when he slid his fingers between her legs, he exhaled on a harsh moan as he was greeted with her silky-soft, slick arousal. He swore louder when he slid two fingers inside her and she bucked back against his hand.
Abruptly, he turned her around and pushed her back so that she was sitting on his desk, her skirt still bunched around her waist, her legs spread apart just enough for him to glimpse the soft, swollen folds of her sex. He wanted to drop to his knees and worship her like she deserved, but suddenly, they were both pulling at each other’s clothes, the urgency between the two of them like an unstoppable hurricane gathering force.
He nearly ripped open her blouse in his haste to unfasten the buttons, but once they were undone, he shoved the material and her bra straps down her arms until her breasts spilled free—while she impatiently unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and pushed them down his thighs so they were out of the way. His mouth landed on her breasts, sucking, licking, and biting both nipples. She gripped his aching shaft, stroking the length in her palm. Her thumb found the drop of pre-come beading on the tip and used it to lubricate the head.
He gritted his teeth and fumbled to get his wallet out of his pants to retrieve the condom he’d stashed there for a moment like this, and sheathed himself in record time. He hooked his arms around the backs of her knees so that they were draped over the crook of his elbows and spread her legs wide. He gripped her hips in his hands to hold her still, because once he was inside her, he knew there would be no holding back the urgency to make her his in every way imaginable.
“Put my cock where you want it,” he demanded in a voice that sounded as rough and gritty as sandpaper. “Where I f*cking need it.”
She whimpered anxiously and guided the crown of his shaft through her slick folds, bathing it in her slippery heat until he was poised at the entrance to her body. He pushed in, penetrating that tight opening just a few inches while Natalie flattened her hands behind her on the desk, as if knowing to brace herself for his first brutal thrust inside her.
With a hard jerk of his hips, he slammed so deep she cried out and he shuddered from the jarring impact before he started moving in earnest, the rhythm hard and fast and out of control. She felt like coming home, like f*cking bliss—and he wasn’t the kind of guy who waxed poetic about sex. But this . . . being inside of Natalie was sublime, and he knew without any doubts that nothing else would ever compare.
His eyes traveled from where they were joined so intimately and moved upward, taking in the way her naked breasts bounced with every brutal stroke and the beautiful flush that swept up her neck and colored her cheeks. Her lips were parted, and he locked his gaze onto hers so that she could see exactly what she did to him, how she drove him to the brink, and how much he needed her.
He was beyond desperate for her to feel the same.
He powered back into her, knowing by her soft gasp that the exquisite ache building inside of him wasn’t just one-sided. But he wanted verbal proof, needed her to acknowledge it, too.
“Feel that, Natalie?” he rasped, the punishing pace of his thrusts ensuring she’d be sore for the next day. “Feel me inside of you? Fucking you? Filling you, over and over?”
Her eyes glazed over with ecstasy. “Yes. Oh, God, yes,” she whispered, the slight catch to her voice telling him that she was as close to climaxing as he was.
“I want to hear you scream my name when you come,” he ordered, doubling his efforts to push her over the edge, his cock so hard and thick he knew the magnitude of his release was going to supersede all others. “Nobody is here, baby. It’s just you and me and this.”
As if he’d given her permission to let loose, she chased after her orgasm, and he watched and felt as it swept her up in its fury and she screamed his name so loudly it made his ears ring with the passionate, uninhibited sound.
The perfect, wet silk of her * clasping his cock and the openly vulnerable look in her eyes made him weak in the knees. The connection between them went beyond the physical, and he felt as though he’d been stripped bare, his heart no longer just his. The sight of Natalie giving herself over to him so willingly caused his own climax to surge through him, the hot rush of it so f*cking powerful it stole the breath from his lungs and made him collapse on top of her in a heap.
His face was buried in the crook of her neck, and they were both breathing hard. Eventually, he lifted his head and smiled down at her, and while she returned the gesture, there was a guarded look in her eyes that reminded him why she was here, or why she thought she was here . . . to indulge in one last tryst and to end their two-week bet.