Trillion(50)

Sophie tosses her head back, cupping my head in her hands.

When I’ve sampled her enough, I lead her to my desk, positioning myself between her spread thighs. She eyes the open blinds behind me and her body turns rigid.

“No one can see us all the way up here,” I say. “We’re practically in the fucking clouds.”

She swallows, her body still frozen beneath my touch.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing.” The enigmatic minx reaches for my belt, unzips my fly, and takes me in her palm.

I place a hand over hers. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I don’t like being on display.”

“Fine.” I leave her on my desk, legs wide and panties peeking from beneath her skirt, and I make my rounds to every window in my office, tugging the blinds closed. When I come back, I claim her mouth with a punishing kiss and slide my hands between her creamy thighs until I reach the damp fabric. “I want you, Sophie. All of you …”

Without a word, she kisses me back as she maneuvers off my desk, pulls her skirt up to her hips, and tugs her panties down. Bunching the lacy fabric, she tosses them in the middle of my desk before turning and gifting me with a full display of her silky ass. I plunge my fingers into her wet pussy from behind. She grinds against me, palms splayed on my desk.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” I whisper in her ear as I lean over her. Over the weekend we discussed birth control, and the week that followed the contract finalization, we both tested clean. I wanted to ensure everything was in order.

Head slanted, she bites her lower lip and nods. “Yes …”

I place my cock at her entrance, giving her one inch of me at a time. Her pussy is as soft as it is tight, as slick as it is hot. She’s dripping wet, fucking me as her body accepts mine.

A moan escapes her lips.

“Shh,” I remind her.

I pull her closer as we fuck, kissing the back of her neck and gathering a fist of her glossy hair as I stretch her with each thrust. With my next meeting in five minutes, it’s a frenzied rush to fulfillment, but what we lack this morning I have no doubt we’ll make up for tonight.

Running my hand down the front of her thighs, I stop at the mound of her fevered flesh and rub circles against her swollen clit. What I wouldn’t give to taste her—if only we had more time.

“Are you close?” I whisper against her ear, plunging deeper, harder.

“Mm hm.” She leans forward, gripping the ledge of my desk as her heart-shaped ass begs for more.

We match rhythms.

Her breath shallows.

The tightness between my legs warns that the release is near, and the instant her pussy tightens against my cock, I rear hot and hard against her, spilling into her with unapologetic spasms until she’s filled to the hilt with my seed.

When it’s over, I turn her to face me, tasting her mouth one last time before she slides her panties up, tugs her skirt into place, and disappears into the private restroom in the back of my office to clean up.

Mona rings me to let me know my conference call with our e-commerce division is on line three.

“Tell them I need a few more minutes,” I say.

Sophie emerges a moment later, rosy cheeks, blouse tucked into a straightened skirt, hair slightly more tousled than it was before, but nothing obvious.

Her gaze falls to the blinking light on my phone, indicating I’ve got a call on hold.

“See you at home?” she asks, on her way out.

“Wait.”

She stops, and I go to her, taking her hand and pulling her close. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever fucked on that desk.”

It’s the truth.

I don’t cross-contaminate my work space with my personal liaisons, but for my future wife—and a body I’ve been dying to fuck since she strutted into my office that first day—I’ll make an exception.

“Is that your way of making me feel special? Because it’s not necessary.” Her eyes shimmer, the brightest thing in this room. She can say she doesn’t want this to turn emotional until she’s blue in the face, but everyone wants to be told they’re special.

“No,” I lie. I do want her to feel special … because she is. To me. For some strange and unexpected reason. “I just thought you should know.”

She shows herself out, and I take my call, tracing my fingers along the handprints she left on my polished desktop, inhaling the trail of sensual perfume that mingles with a trace of her sweet arousal.

I miss her already—the escape, the release, the heat of her skin, the taste of her lips. The way nothing else matters when we’re together because my thoughts orbit around her like she’s the fucking sun giving me life.

I’ve never had this before, this total loss of restraint, this shift in priorities, this preoccupation with another person. In all of my years running Westcott Corp, I’ve never cleared my schedule or silenced my phone as much as I have these last few weeks.

I told myself she deserved my undivided attention outside the office as we get to know each other. But the more I get to know her, the more I don’t want to give my attention to anyone—or anything—but her.

We made a pact in Seattle that we’d speak up should this start to veer off and become more than physical.

I don’t know what this is that I’m feeling.