Page 90 of Darkest Deception

When I look up, I see his head fallen back, his hair falling recklessly around his face, the tendons in his neck popping. The sight of him in his black suit, stretched across his chest and broad shoulders, completely at my mercy as I suck him off, makes me want to pleasure him more.

I have this big manically psycho man, losing control at my hands.

And I fucking love it.

“Take me like I am yours. Take me just like that… Yes, hmm,” he groans, his words ringing in my mind.

His chest heaves, and a moan slips from his mouth, making me smile.

“You’re such a dirty girl. Ambrose,” he grunts, then releases his load into my mouth, breathing heavily above me.

And I swallow.

Fuck if he doesn’t taste good.

He lets go of the back of my head, and the sharp edge of the desk hits the back of my head. I realise he held me there the whole time to avoid me hitting my head. Something pinches in my chest at that thought.

“You look good, being ruined by me, being owned and marked by me.” He rubs his thumb across my bottom lip, his eyes darkening when I lick that lip.

“And I still hate you.” I narrow my eyes, making him laugh.

He presses his thumb softly onto my lip, and I open my mouth, taking it in and sucking it, rolling my eyes, knowing I have his full attention.

Just as I open my eyes, Helia pulls me up and places me on the edge of the desk.

He unbuttons my trousers, pulls them down with my underwear, and gets on his knees.

“Now let me reward my pretty fox.” And he does.

I am in the office an hour later, coming down from the high, and still not recovering from what he has done to me. I don’t let myself think too much of it. Not the soft touches I got every so often, not the long glances, not the low murmurs in my ears, and certainly not the fact that my own heart beat an extra beat for him.

He took it from me.

My submission.

And a truth that no man ever has before.

That I want him.

It doesn’t matter that it’s in the name of desire.

The next day, when I am in his office, he pulls me to his lap, making me sit and type up an email to the marketing team while he has his hand so deep between my legs that they shake with pleasure.

And every time I came into his office over the next couple of weeks, I found myself in some kind of position at his mercy, and yet I kept uttering the same words.

“I hate you.” With his fingers inside of me.

“I despise you.” When he kissed down my neck.

“I feel repulsed by you.” While he was deep down in my throat.

And yet, the one thing we never did was kiss.

We never did it. It felt too intimate.

And a small question arose in my mind.

Was I just a means to an end for him?

---