Down and Out(30)

“Goddamn it.” I pull out of her panties and pin both of her hands above her head, leaning back to look at her. “If you really want to go down this road, I will gladly take your shorts off and bury myself so far inside you, you won’t be able to tell where I end and you begin. But let me warn you, Kitten, it won’t end there. Before the night is over, I’ll have had you in every way imaginable, and on every damn surface in this apartment. You sure you’re up for that?”
Savannah bites her lip, looking a bit unsure.
The last thing I want to do is make her second-guess what we’re doing, but I need her to see how tenuous my self-control is right now. I want her too much, and if she keeps pushing it, I won’t be able to stop myself.
Releasing her wrists, I kiss a path down to the pulse point on her neck. Her arms wrap around me, her fingers threading through my hair as I work my hand back into her panties. She moans as I delve two fingers inside her.
“Purr for me, Kitten.”
Her breathless retort doesn’t disappoint. “Shut up,” she murmurs. “You’re ruining it.”
I chuckle against her neck as I move within her, earning me a catch in her rapid breathing as her arms tighten around me. My fingers press against her front wall as I pump into her, my palm sliding back and forth over her clit, and that’s when it happens—the tensing of her body under me, the tightening of her walls around my fingers, and the gasp as her whole body shudders under mine. I milk her orgasm for a few more seconds, wringing every “oh, God” and “Declan” from her writhing body.
Eventually I slow, my fingers languidly gliding in and out of her tightness as aftershocks spasm through her, and I grin into her neck as her heart beats wildly beneath mine. “I don’t think you can get much sweeter than that.”
My fingers pull out of her and I withdraw my hand from her shorts, leaning back to look at her. She won’t meet my eyes, and the strangest thing occurs to me: I never even kissed her.
I’ve already been inside her and I haven’t even properly kissed her yet. That doesn’t sit well with me. It’s . . . blasphemous.
Her eyes widen as I lean down and place a soft kiss on her lips. It’s not meant to be passionate, it’s not meant to lead to anything else. It’s meant to be more of a thank you.
She blinks as I pull away and sit up, and I catch sight of her pink and white polka dot panties peeking out through the undone fly of her shorts. Couple that with the dampness still on my fingers and my raging hard-on, and the atmosphere instantly changes as we’re thrown into that awkward “what now?” phase. The silence lingers between us as she sits up and adjusts her clothes, the severity of what we’ve just done settling over me.
I just finger-f*cked my female employee on my couch. Oh, God. . .
My head hangs as I run my fingers through my hair. Shit. What the hell was I thinking?
She clears her throat and sets her feet back on the floor. “Do you need me to. . .?”
She trails off and points to the bulge in my lap. There’s no use trying to hide it at this point. I’m so hard you could camp under this tent.
I shake my head, barely able to look at her. “I told you, that’s not what this was about.”
“Are you sure?” She’s got her bottom lip between her teeth and her clasped hands are resting between her knees.
My dick twitches in protest, and I mumble a silent “f*ck off” at him. Bastard’s the one who got me into this mess to begin with. But I can’t exactly stay mad at him, because that was just . . . awesome. The best damn time I’ve spent between a girl’s legs in a really long time and I didn’t even come.
A smirk lifts my lips as I recall the way she gripped my shoulders and neck as she came on my fingers, her stuttered breath hot on my ear. “I promise you, I’m fine. More than fine. It’s like I’m at the Academy Awards, Kitten. I’m just happy to be here.”
Her mouth mashes together, like she’s trying to keep from smiling. “Okay, well . . . thanks.”
Thanks? I get her off and she says thanks?
I stare at her in bewilderment as she gets up and walks around the coffee table, heading out of the living room and down the hall, where she disappears from my view.
Sighing, I rub my hands over my face and lean back into the sofa. I need to give her a few minutes to use the bathroom if she has to, because once I get in that shower, I’m not getting out until my balls are empty.






The next day at work is torture. Every time I see Savannah, I’m reminded of how she smelled, how she tasted, how she sounded when she came. . .
But the real kick in the pants is how unaffected she seems. I thought things might be a little awkward, but she’s acting like nothing happened. Granted, she’s not going out of her way to talk to me and I haven’t caught her staring at me once today, but the few times I’ve talked to her, she seemed fine.
“Christ, stop starin’ at her, dude. It’s creepy.”
The chair across my desk squeaks as Marcus sits down. I tear my gaze off Savannah’s profile as I watch her through the open blinds of my office. He better be glad she’s so far away, because he wasn’t exactly quiet.
“I’m not staring,” I mutter, looking back down to the paperwork on my desk that I’m pretending to do. I just wanted to make sure she’s eating the granola bar I gave her, because she looked kinda pissy when I told her to take a break and eat something. Thankfully, she is.
“Then what the hell do you call it? ’Cause it sure looks like staring to me.”