Page 108 of Sexting the Boss

The trail of clothing behind us is obscene—her red silk, my jacket, shirt discarded recklessly. I lift her into my arms, her bare thighs wrapping instinctively around my waist. Her body is soft and perfect against me, her breath hot against my neck, and it takes every bit of self-control not to pin her to the nearest wall and fuck her right there.

She pulls my mouth back to hers, kissing me like her life depends on it, fingers threading roughly into my hair.

We tumble onto the bed, my weight pressing her into the mattress. She arches beneath me, her legs spreading to accommodate me perfectly. Her soft curves mold against my hard edges, her nails raking down my bare back, igniting fire across my skin.

I pull back slightly, panting, gazing down at her—hair wild against my sheets, eyes heavy with need, lips swollen from my kisses.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” I growl, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, lower to her collarbone, savoring the way her breath quickens beneath my lips.

She laughs softly, breathlessly, trembling with anticipation. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, drawing me closer.

“Stop talking,” she demands, pulling me back up to kiss her again.

She’s under me, warm and soft in all the right places, her nails leaving faint trails of heat across my back. Her breasts brush my chest with every ragged inhale, and the temptation is too strong to resist. I shift lower, pressing hot kisses along the curve of her neck.

She arches against me, her pulse fluttering beneath my lips, and I can’t help the low growl that rumbles in my throat.

I want to leave marks, want everyone to know she’s mine—if only for tonight. My teeth graze her skin, and she gives a little gasp as I suck at the column of her throat, sure to leave faint bruises. She’ll probably swear at me for that later, but right now, she just moans, clutching at my shoulders like I’m the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.

“Damien,” she whispers, voice unsteady.

I kiss lower, down her collarbone, then lower still, my fingers tracing the soft swell of her breast before my mouth follows. Her skin is velvety and warm, tasting faintly of salt and perfume. I flick my tongue around her areola—teasing, savoring the ragged sound that catches in her throat—before finally taking her nipple fully into my mouth.

“God,” she breathes, her head tipping back into the pillows. Her body trembles against me, hips rocking up as though she can’t decide whether to pull me closer or demand more.

I suck gently, relishing her sharp intake of breath, the way her entire body arches beneath me. My free hand cups the other breast, feeling how soft it is against my palm, how perfectly she fits against me.

Her hands slip into my hair, tugging, guiding me closer, and I suck a little harder, a low groan escaping me as she practically melts against my mouth.

I lift my head, just enough to look at her—lips parted, cheeks flushed, eyes heavy with lust. Her hair fans out around her, dark and wild against pale sheets, and something in my chest twists.

Because it’s never been like this before—never been this intense, this maddening.

I slide my hands beneath her thighs, lifting her legs until they rest on my shoulders, my palms pressing against the backs of her knees to spread her open for me.

Her thighs tense beneath my fingers when I kiss the tender skin on the inside of her leg, moving steadily upward. She arches her back, hips lifting toward me in silent encouragement, and I can’t help the low growl that escapes my throat. When I finally press my mouth to her center, she lets out a broken moan that sends a bolt of lust straight through me.

I take my time at first, exploring every inch of her with my tongue, learning what makes her breath hitch and her hips jerk. Her hands clench at the sheets, knuckles white, and I can’t decide if I prefer watching her face or feeling her thighs tremble around my head.

Her scent, her taste—everything about her is dizzying. I slide my hands up to grip her waist, holding her in place as she starts to writhe, pushing eagerly into my mouth. She’s already close, breath ragged, incoherent sounds spilling from her lips.

I suck gently, then harder, flicking my tongue in just the right spot until she shatters with a breathless cry, her body going taut beneath me. She trembles and moans, hips lifting off the bed in a wild spasm of pleasure. I don’t stop—don’t let her catch her breath—because the sight of her coming undone is too intoxicating to end so soon.

She comes again, this time with a raw, pleading sound that has me throbbing, my own control hanging by a thread. I hold her tight, keeping her thighs on my shoulders, drawing out every last tremor, every pulse of ecstasy. Her moans rise in pitch until she’s on the brink of yet another climax, back arching, mindless with need.

By the time she finally sinks back, chest heaving, her hair plastered to her damp forehead, I can hardly breathe myself. My heart hammers in my chest as I ease her thighs from my shoulders, pressing a gentle kiss to each trembling leg before I move up the bed to face her.

She’s flushed, eyes heavy-lidded and glazed with satisfaction. Her lips part, but no sound escapes, just shallow, uneven breaths. I brush her hair from her face, letting my mouth hover over hers, breathing in her soft whimpers as she tries to regain some semblance of composure.

“God,” she whispers, voice cracking with exhaustion and bliss. “You—Damien…”

I press a tender, almost reverent kiss to her lips, letting her taste herself.

I’m hovering over her, every nerve in my body lit up like a live wire. Her skin is warm under my touch—pale, silken, a perfect contrast to my darker complexion.

My cock is hard, aching with the kind of need that makes it difficult to think straight. I brace one forearm by her head and slide my other hand down, fingers drifting over her hip, memorizing the soft curves, the subtle dip of her waist.

I can’t help myself—a raw surge of need claws at my chest. With a low, unsteady breath, I reach down and wrap my fingers around my length, giving myself a slow stroke. It’s both relief and torment, my body nearly shaking with how close I am to completely losing control.

---