Exposed by Fate (Serve #2)(29)

“Eliza, have I told you how much I love your *?”

She moaned and lost her balance. He caught her against his hard body without missing a beat, keeping them swaying to the music. To anyone watching, the slip might have been imperceptible, but inside of her a maelstrom of sensations whipped in a frenzy.

“When I had my tongue in it…when it started shaking for me…I thought I’d never taste anything sweeter. My smooth, wet Eliza.” He subtly rolled his hips and her breath caught. “I was wrong, though, wasn’t I? Having you squeeze my dick and tongue f*ck my mouth at the same time? I’m not going to recover from that, you little traitor. You want no strings attached? Then stop f*cking me up.”

How could she stop her body from writhing against him when he said things like that? As they turned in a slow circle, she saw her boss, Regina, watching them with interest, but even that didn’t break through the haze of lust blanketing her. She floated in a dream-like state, anchored only by Oliver. “I’m not doing anything on purpose.”

“Of course not,” he grated, then seemed to attempt to reign himself in with a deep breath. “You know what I was thinking when that girl had her hands on me?” He didn’t wait for her answer, but continued in a seductive tone of voice. “I was thinking about how your screams sounded echoing in my shower. Like a girl who’d just found out what a good f*cking is supposed to feel like. A girl who’d finally gotten what her virgin-tight body was needing all along. Isn’t that right, babe? Who gave you what you needed?”

“You did, Oliver. Please. I need it again.”

“I should have gone to your apartment days ago. Should have knocked on your door and reminded you who’s in charge of when and how these lessons take place.” His fingers traced up her spine to grip the back of her neck. Just that subtle show of force sent a bolt of lightning to her core. Yes. Take control of me. “That reminds me, Eliza. The next time you call me Mr. Preston, you’ll be looking up at me from your knees before you can blink. You’re going to keep your eyes trained on me while I will f*ck the word Mister right out of your mouth. Is that understood?”

She moaned, wetness settling between her thighs. “I can’t wait any longer. Oh God, I can’t—”

“That makes two of us.” He bit down on her ear lobe. “I’ve been here for a handful of meetings. I know there’s a conference room through that door to my left. You will go there and wait for me immediately.” The friction between their bodies was getting to be too much. “I’m not going to lie. I can’t promise I won’t make you scream loud enough to drown out the band. You want to take that chance?”

“Yes.” Was that her talking? She barely recognize her voice. “I don’t have a choice.”

“What is your safe word, Eliza?”

“Cookie.”

“Go.”

…

Eliza ran her fingers over the cool wood of the forty-seat conference table. Yes, she’d counted the chairs. She needed a distraction, something to keep her from exploding into a million fragments. Her body hummed uncontrollably, so desperate for satisfaction that sweat had broken out along her neck and forehead. In the quiet room, her soft, panting breaths were amplified. The sound turned her on even more, until one hand inched its way up her thigh, moving of its own volition. A couple strokes of her clit while replaying Oliver’s harsh words to her on the dance floor and she’d be free of this gripping need. This desire. It was so thick, she couldn’t drag in a full breath. Just one touch.

She leaned back against the wall and ran a finger down the center of her damp panties. Using her middle and ring finger, she pressed the material against her sensitive nub, moved them in a slow circle. Just as a whimper broke from her throat, the door opened and Oliver walked inside.

“Don’t you dare.” He rounded the table, coming toward her with a full head of steam. His sexuality blasted her the closer he came, as if he were projecting it. She watched hungrily as he ripped off his tuxedo jacket and threw it unceremoniously on the table. His face, his body, were so compelling she wanted to weep, while at the same time his hard edge instilled a kick of danger. This was what a man looked like before he took a woman hard. Fierce. Rough. A little angry. She wanted all of it. So bad. “You trying to cheat me out of one of your orgasms, Eliza? When I’ve been out of my goddamn mind for days to feel you shake and clench?”

“I just—”

“You just better listen. That’s what you just.” He reached her then and spun her until she faced the conference table. A powerful hand splayed at the center of her back, before pushing her forward. Her cheek pressed against the smooth surface, hot breaths heaving in and out to fog the polished wood. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but the cool air against her bottom, the gathering of material at her waist, told her he’d lifted her dress. Exposing her. “Put your palms flat on the table and don’t move. If you do, I will slap your ass until you can’t stand.”

Eliza’s legs liquefied. What if that’s what I want? Should I move? No, just trust him. She exulted in the feeling the bent over position gave her. The damp flesh between her legs swelled and pulsated, anticipating being filled by Oliver at any second. Every beat that passed without his hardness inside of her was painful. “I need you inside me so bad,” she moaned. “Please, it hurts.”