Page 111 of American Beauty

Fire pools low in my stomach, coiling tighter, threatening to consume me.

I drag my nails down his back and dig my heels into the backs of his thighs, urging him closer. “Show me how much it turned you on.”

A low, dark curse slips from his lips, then he moves.

He shoves my skirt up, bunching the fabric around my hips with rough hands. His fingertips trail a path up my thighs, teasing, claiming. A firm grip on my hips drags me closer to the edge of the desk. His fingers hook under my lace panties, sliding them down, leaving me bare, trembling, aching for him.

A low, guttural growl rumbles from his chest—raw, hungry—and then he’s gone, only for a heartbeat. Pants shoved down, he settles between my thighs like he’s never letting me go again.

One hand clamps down on my hip, anchoring me. The other guides himself to where I need him most.

With one hard thrust, he’s inside me, filling me to the hilt. A gasping cry rips from my throat, my head snapping back as he stretches me, wrecks me, claims every broken, desperate part of me.

His hold on my waist tightens, unrelenting, keeping me pinned to the desk as he moves. Slow at first—teasing, tormenting—drawing out until I’m gasping, until I’m shaking. Then faster. Harder. Deeper. Until there’s nothing left but the stars bursting behind my eyelids.

The rhythm turns rougher, more desperate, more unhinged, his control shredding with each thrust, each broken moan. The desk creaks beneath us, rocking with every movement.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he says, mouth over my ear, his voice barely human.

I whimper, clinging to him as he drives into me, over and over, his pace unrelenting.

I’m close. Too close. He feels it.

His fingers find my jaw, forcing me to look at him.

“Eyes on me. I want to watch you come.”

And just like that, I shatter.

Pleasure crashes over me in a tidal wave, my entire body convulsing as I cry out his name, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Alex follows with a curse, burying himself deep, his entire body tensing, trembling, before he collapses against me, breathless, spent.

The only sound in the room is our ragged breathing. And for a long moment, neither of us moves. We just exist in this aftermath, tangled, burning, wrecked.

I close my eyes, letting the pressure of him ground me, the steady thump of his heart beneath my palms anchoring me to this moment.

He lifts his head, pressing a kiss to my forehead, my temple, my lips.

“You’re incredible.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, big guy.”

His chest rumbles with laughter before he nips at my bottom lip, stealing another slow, lingering kiss.

His grip on my waist lingers, firm and possessive.

A slow breath leaves me, my body still humming, still molded to the hard surface of my desk—the place where I just let himtake me, where I gave in to the need that burns everything else away.

His fingers brush over my back, his lips brushing against my temple. “You were made for this.”

A shiver rolls through me, not just from his words, but from the quiet certainty in them.

I let my nails drag down his back, anchoring myself to the weight of him. “You enjoy fucking me on my desk, Sebring?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I love fucking you on your desk, Steel.”

I grin, squeezing the muscles in his shoulders. “Good. I like it too.”

---