Page 62 of A Sin So Pure

I release her hair in favor of hiking up her dress. It’s liquid silk, the way the fabric sluices over the curves at her hips. My fingers find Imogen’s damp heat beneath her underwear, and I circle her with a feathered touch. She grinds into my palm, desperate for more contact.

I take my pleasure from Imogen’s moans, the vibration of her body pressed against mine runs straight to my core. My fingersleave her clit and slide through her slick; she writhes when I dip one finger inside of her.

Capturing her whine with my lips, I pump my finger slowly. I continue until her pussy clutches my finger, but I don’t push her over the edge. She lets out a frustrated growl.

It’s clear she doesn’t want to be edged tonight.

I lift my head and our noses brush as I stare into her half-lidded eyes.

A shiver racks her body when I pull my finger from her core and bring it to my mouth. I lied before. There is nothing sweeter thanthis,the taste of her coating my tongue.

My lips curve into a smug smile.

“Be a good girl, and get on the desk,” I say, stepping back.

She lets loose a breathy laugh.

“You got it,Boss,” she teases.

She doesn’t move right away. Instead, she reaches for the zipper at her waist. Her dress is quick to pool at her feet, a puddle of scarlet silk, leaving her bare except for the lace that wraps around her hips and between her thighs.

Something possessive and dark rouses in my gut.

“Get on the desk,” I repeat, letting it hang as a threat between us.

Imogen smirks before slowly pulling off her underwear. She drops it into the pile of fabric at her feet and brushes past me to hop onto the desk. She said I was a tease, but she’s the embodiment of torment, perching there with her legs spread and offering me a perfect view of her needy cunt.

“Coming?” she lilts.

I am across the room in seconds.

My fingers find purchase on her ample hips while my head dips down, my tongue darting out and circling one pebbled nipple. Imogen’s hands immediately grip my hair. It stings, theway she uses it as leverage to press my mouth tighter to her chest, silently begging for more.

I bite down on her breast before sucking and flicking my tongue, giving her exactly what she wants. And when she’s writhing again, hips grinding on air and searching for friction, I let my fingers return to her core, plunging two into her.

“Fuck,” Imogen curses.

I laugh into her chest, peppering kisses down from her breasts to her navel.

I drop into my desk chair, rolling it close so I can lean forward and brush my tongue over her clit. She flutters around my fingers at the stimulation—so I apply more pressure by sucking on it.Hard.

Her fingernails dig into my scalp, and her whimpers fill the office, spurring me on. I curl my fingers, pulsing them against the spot that makes her fall apart.

Imogen comes beautifully around my fingers; she rides my mouth through her orgasm, muscles taught and throbbing as they grip me.

And when the final aftershocks recede, her entire body melts. Her back arches, and she purrs a satisfied hum.

I pull back, licking my lips clean while drinking in the sight of her.

Imogen’s a rumpled mess compared to the composed beauty the rest of the world usually sees. I’m the lucky one, I realize, that gets to see her like this: laid out on my desk, leaning back on her hands. I get to see her with puffy lips and a heaving chest as her lungs desperately clutch to oxygen.Iget to see her bask in the aftershocks of the orgasmIgave her.

In this way, she is utterlymine.

Her long lashes flutter against her flushed cheeks as she gazes at me with primal satisfaction.

I reach up and pluck at one of her still hard nipples. A shocked yelp turns into an exasperated laugh as she grabs my hand and pulls it away from her chest. Intertwining her fingers with mine, she lifts our joined hands to her mouth, kissing my knuckles.

Once. Twice. Three times.

---