Page 141 of Ruthless

Vincent bit my palm in retaliation, his body clenching around me. I stifled a groan, tightening my grip on his hip in warning.

"Sir, the security protocols for the Eastern District need your authorization," came the voice on the other end, completely unaware of what their director was currently doing. "The previous systems are being decommissioned, and we need approval to activate the new ones."

I thrust particularly deep, watching Vincent's mouth stretch in a silent cry under my restraining palm. "Approved," I replied calmly. "Implement immediately."

"Yes, sir. And regarding the personnel transfers?"

I picked up my pace, driving into Vincent with renewed vigor while continuing the conversation. His muffled moans vibrated against my palm as he struggled to stay quiet, his body trembling with the effort.

"Proceed as planned," I instructed, watching Vincent's fingers turn white where they gripped the desk. "Send the final reports to my inbox."

"Will do, sir. Thank you."

I hung up without further pleasantries, removing my hand from Vincent's mouth. He immediately gasped for air, a string of creative curses falling from his lips.

"You—absolute—bastard," he panted, each word punctuated by a thrust. "I can't believe you just—"

"Multitasking," I replied, leaning over to bite his shoulder gently. "I'm very good at it."

His laugh turned into a desperate moan as I shifted angles, hitting that perfect spot inside him. "Clearly."

I reached around to take his cock in my hand, stroking in time with my thrusts. "I think you liked it," I whispered against his ear. "Being fucked while I conducted business. My dirty little secret right under their noses."

His full-body shudder told me I was right. Vincent—proper, ethical Dr. Matthews—had an exhibitionist streak he was only beginning to explore.

"Close," he warned, his voice wrecked.

"Not yet," I commanded, slowing my pace to a torturous crawl. "Not until I say so."

He whimpered, frustrated but obedient. I continued the slow, deliberate pace, dragging the metal bars of my piercings against his sensitive nerves with each controlled movement. The desk beneath us no longer felt like furniture—it was an altar where we consecrated my new reign.

When I finally increased my pace again, we were both on the edge, control fraying with each thrust. Vincent's moans had turned desperate, needy, the professional therapist completely undone.

"Now," I finally granted, my hand working his cock faster. "Come for me."

Vincent shattered beautifully, his release spilling over my hand as his body clenched rhythmically around me. The sight of him coming undone on my desk pushed me over the edge. I buried myself deep, my own orgasm crashing through me in waves as I marked him from the inside.

For several moments, we remained frozen in place, both catching our breath. I pressed my forehead between his shoulder blades, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

"Still holding the desk?" I asked, my voice rough.

Vincent laughed weakly. "Haven't let go once."

"Good boy," I murmured, pressing a kiss to his spine before carefully withdrawing. I helped him stand, turning him to face me. His face was flushed, hair disheveled, lips swollen from biting back moans. Such a beautiful mess.

I kissed him deeply, tenderly, a contrast to our frantic fucking moments before. "You okay?"

He nodded, hands coming up to frame my face. "More than okay. Though I may never look at your desk the same way again."

"That's the idea." I tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "Every time I sit here, I'll remember this."

We cleaned up with tissues from my desk drawer, straightening our clothes. Vincent fixed his tie while I reluctantly adjusted my own.

"Remind me why we're wearing these torture devices again?" I asked, tugging at my collar.

"Ana's fundraiser tonight," Vincent replied, smoothing his jacket. "Eight o'clock."

I nodded, remembering my promise. "Right. Children's hospital."

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