Page 46 of The Rebel

‘Rest your hands on my desk.’

I do it and feel my skirt being hiked up, exposing my ass to him.

I hear him unzip and the tearing of foil. He’s taking too long and I wiggle my hips impatiently. Then he’s there, rock hard, nudging my cleft.

He bites the back of my neck, a playful nip followed by a teasing lap of his tongue, making me tremble in anticipation. His hand slides around to the front and he zeroes in on my clit without preamble.

This isn’t going to be slow. We both want it fast, a way to release our tension. Maybe it’s easier this way, showing rather than telling, using our bodies as a way to communicate what we already know: we’re good together.

As he circles my clit he slides into me and I gasp. It’s like this every time, him filling me to perfection and making me crave more.

He withdraws and I push my hips back, needing him inside me again. He obliges by driving into me with such force I fall forward a little.

I rest my forearms on the desk as he pounds into me, fingering me at the same time. It’s wild and wanton and beyond anything I’ve imagined in my fantasies.

I glance over my shoulder. He’s glassy-eyed, his mouth hanging open slightly as he stares at where he’s driving in to me.

I stand on tiptoes in response, knowing it will change the angle of penetrations, and he’s a goner, a man possessed as he pumps into me, my climax clawing at the last of my control as I let myself go and just feel.

My keen of release melds with his roar and my head falls forward, thumping the desk. I don’t feel a thing.

The ripples of pleasure take a while to subside and I cling to the precious aftermath, knowing that all too soon we’ll need to talk.

He lifts my torso gently and cradles me from behind.

For now, it’s enough.

Chapter Twenty-One

Hart

I’m not proud of what happened in my office three hours ago.

I’m an idiot.

Still repeating the same mistakes over and over. I’ve always dealt with my avoidance issues like that: not by fucking the nearest hot woman, but by deflecting. And in Daisy’s case, the result of me blabbing too much information meant I used sex to distract.

One minute we were oversharing, the next I had to stop her questions, and we did it doggy style on my desk.

I’ll never be able to work on this thing again without remembering.

‘Fuck.’ I swipe a hand over my face. Yeah, like that’s going to wipe away the memory.

She was so hot leaning over my desk, her ass in the air. My cock stiffens just thinking about it but I can’t afford to get distracted again. Not this time.

We didn’t resolve anything. Not the important stuff anyway. The work, sure. She acquiesced to my demands. But when we started talking about the other stuff… I sensed the shift, saw it in her eyes, felt it all the way down to my frozen fucking heart.

I’m in over my head and she’s right there alongside me, drowning.

She left to go tidy herself up, and I’ve been hiding behind my desk ever since. I know we can’t leave things the way we did, but for now I take the coward’s way out by sending a text.

Business to take care of for the rest of the day.

Her response is quick and terse.

Fine.

We both know it isn’t. We need to talk.

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