Page 62 of To Catch A Rook

I spotted the necktie hanging loosely from a hook and sauntered over. Grabbing it, I brushed the smooth fabric tauntingly across my bare stomach. Molten desire widened his pupils and beckoned me to join him on the downy rug.

He’d done as I asked, displaying his powerful naked body, nestled in a soft cushion like an offering to a goddess.

“Good boy,” I purred. Bending over his head, I slid the delicate noose around his neck. I tied the other end to the leg ofthe nearby coffee table, and cinched it just tight enough to press against his bobbing Adam’s apple with a tiny bit of wiggle room.

Aaron’s rough palms gripped my thighs as I hovered over him, and my wetness dripped onto the angry flesh of his cock. A stilted grunt escaped his greedy lips just before he yanked me down on top of him.

The friction against my clit shot sparks through my lower belly and up my spine. Our version of foreplay had always resulted in a very satisfying burst of orgasms in quick succession; the throbbing feel of his length between us told me this time would be no different.

I thrust my hips and rubbed myself down the column of his shaft without mercy. The pressure on my clit was the perfect amount to soak his skin.

I grabbed the makeshift collar and slipped a finger underneath to tighten it against his throat.

“I will use you,Caballero.” It was a nickname I only dared whisper when we were in this position—when I was riding him and holding him captive within the prison of my thighs.

“I will use you until I can’t possibly come anymore. Then, you’re going to fill me up so deeply with your massive cock, you’ll prove me wrong until I scream again.”

His head lolled back, his breathing becoming shallow and measured as he bared his body and neck to me to take as mine to own.

Only Aaron could give me this thrill—this submission—even if I knew it was a test of his own limits of control, not because he enjoyed bowing to me. The underlying reason didn’t matter. In this moment, I owned him like he was only worth the human feel of a sizeable dick against my core, and it was all I needed.

I rubbed back and forth, teasing my clit against the swollen head of his cock and then back down again. His cock grew slicker and slicker with each pass. At the crest of my orgasm, he stuffed his palm between my teeth and muffled my screams of ecstasy for only his ears to hear.

I tugged at his collar, tightened my hold, and rubbed harder and faster, until I came for a second time. Before my orgasm was complete, he shoved his cock inside me and thrust upward so hard and so deep I could feel it behind my eyelids.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck.” I sobbed as he pounded harder and harder, driving my orgasm to impossibly higher heights even as I shattered around him. Within seconds, his cum flooded into me, jet after hot, explosive jet, and I milked him to empty.

We lay within the tangled, sweaty, sticky heap far longer than we ever had, cradled within each other's arms.

The sex was frantic, aggressive, rough, and incredible, as always.

But today felt different.

Aaron wasn’t a man who followed his whims. He’d cornered me at our ribbon cutting to make a point, but I had been certain never in a million years would he follow through with his promise.

He liked order and planning. He liked predictability.

This? This frenzied fuck? In his office, no less? Without even a shower to clean his body once we were finished? And cuddling?

Something with Aaron was really, really off.

“Talk to me,” I whispered into the scruff of his neck. I’d removed the necktie and positioned myself across his body, snuggling into his warmth and seeking answers from this mystery of a man.

He brought his arms around me, holding on tighter than I’d ever felt him do before.

“I will talk to you tomorrow. Tonight, let me hold you,Mi Reina.”

Weforgot the outside world for another twenty minutes. The dim sounds of office phones and people speaking just feet away from us filled the space between our beating hearts.

When Joey brought me a change of clothes and took me home for the evening, I couldn’t stifle the nagging fear Aaron was in trouble.

If we didn’t speak tomorrow, I’d be putting Blackbird to good use.

Aaron wasn’t mine, but he wasmine, and I protected my own.

He who doesn’t fear death dies only once.

Ironically, Giovanni Falcone spent his life prosecuting mafia men in Italy, but the famous line maintained its presence in my thoughts as I walked toward my own end.

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