Page 26 of It Will Always Be You
“Are you going to be my good girl, sweetheart? Will you let me show you just how sorry I am for neglecting this perfect fucking cunt?” With every word out of his mouth, he edges his pinkie closer and closer to where I need him before, on the last word, he plunges two fingers inside my dripping core. With a cry of his name, I clamp around his digits, the suddenness of the motion shocking me in the most sinful way.
“Look at you, doing such a good job for me. You can take anything I give you, can’t you?” he praises, his eyes glued to what he’s doing to me. My head is spinning, raw, unfiltered need overwhelming me in the best way. Everything blurs except for the man between my spread thighs and the sinful smirk he flashes my way.
“Anything. I need more. Prove just how sorry you are.” My words are breathy at best, and a positively starved look flashes across his face before he reaches up, collaring my throat with the hand not buried in my pussy.
“If you can think clearly enough to do more than whimper and beg for more, I’m not doing a good enough job.” As he tightens his grip and thumbs my clit, my eyes roll back in ecstasy. I need something to ground me before I float away. Reaching up, I dig my nails into his wrist. He doesn’t flinch—no, instead, he tightens his grip and doubles down on his efforts to make me come all over his hand.
“Be a good girl and come for me. I want to lick up the mess you make before I make a mess of you all over again. You can do that, can’t you, baby girl?” At the new nickname, I shatter in an instant, just as fuzziness starts to creep in at the corners of my vision. With a moan, he lets go of my throat in favour of working my knickers down over my thigh-high stockings. At the sight of my bare, glistening pussy, he curses as he urges me to lay back before taking my thighs in hand and tossing them over his shoulders.
“You smell like mine.” He groans as he nuzzles his nose along the inside of my thigh before bestowing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses in his wake as he makes his way closer to where I need him most. The second his tongue makes contact with my clit, I see heaven. He’s relentless in his ministrations, licking and sucking and making a meal out of my pussy. My back arches, my fists clenching in his hair as he tirelessly works me over—and work me over he does. His determination to make me come is second to none, and oh my God, the humming, the vibrations as he groans into my pussy and rains down praise as he works me up to a fever pitch has me ready to tumble over the edge.
“Jonathan,” I cry. “Jonathan, please…”
“When you’re seconds away from coming for me on my desk, you call me Mr O’Neill.” His gritted words, spoken into my pussy, are followed by him sucking my clit into his mouth and driving two thick fingers inside me, and I’m coming with a shout of his name. My head flies back, thunking against the desk below me, my mouth wide, ragged sounds tearing loose from somewhere deep inside me, somewhere only he can reach.
“That’s my good fucking girl, coming all over your boss’ desk like the needy little thing you are. Come here,” he demands, sitting back in his chair and patting his lap. Eyeing the obvious bulge, I slide off his desk on shaky legs, wiggle out of my skirt, and straddle him, clad in only my bra and garter. The second I’m within his reach, he cups the back of my neck, pulling my mouth down to his. In seconds, he’s licking into my mouth, sharing the taste of my cum with me and swallowing my whimpers. In return, I reach between us, snapping his belt open and palming his hard length.
“Fuck it,” he mutters before taking himself in hand and notching the thick head at my entrance. Leaning back, he gives me a cocky smirk as he folds his arms behind his head. The juxtaposition between him being fully clothed and me being the needy EA half naked in his lap, his hard cock filling my dripping pussy, is like an aphrodisiac. It has me reaching back to balance on his knees as I slowly rise before sinking back down, watching his eyes grow hooded at the slow roll of my body.
“A needy, desperate brat like you can do better than that. Coming in here, demanding I pay you attention; well, you’ve got my attention now, sweetheart. Show me what you were missing, what made you interrupt me,” he drawls, looking every inch the cocky bastard I took him for after our first meeting. Flicking my hair over my shoulder, I make a show of rising until only the tip of his cock is inside me and staying like that as I squeeze around him. His nostrils flaring is the only warning I have before he’s collaring my throat and pulling me closer. “Stop being a tease. You can take me, so fucking take me likea good girl, or I’ll show you what happens to brats who bite off more than they can chew.”
“Hmm, but it’s fun to tease you, Mr O’Neill. After all, you kept me waiting.For. So. Long.” I moan as I grind down on him, earning some friction against my clit as he tightens his grip and darkness creeps in. I’m seconds away from shattering around him when suddenly, he pulls himself free and stands, taking me with him. My back meets the cool glass of the window a split second before he hammers himself home so hard, my eyes roll back. He sets a punishing pace that has me wrapping my legs and arms around him to hold on as I beg for more.
“Teases don’t get to come. Are you sure you still want to play this game?” he taunts, reaching between us to pinch my clit. Whimpers and pleas for more fall from my lips as I struggle to form coherent sentences.
“Harder.”
“Now, now…how do good girls ask for what they want?” He slows down to the point of stopping.
With a huff, I roll my eyes. “Please.”
“That’s better.” He nuzzles his mouth along my collarbone, leaving open mouthed kisses in his wake as he makes his way up to my mouth. In one swift move, he claims my mouth as his own, invading my every sense as he drives his hips into me at a pace that will bruise and tightens his grip on my neck. The combination of not being able to breath and him stealing what little air is left in my lungs as he kisses me is enough to have me writhing against him and my pussy clamping down around him.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” He spins us around, pulls out of me, and bends me over his desk, delivering a swift slap to each cheek before curling himself around me as he notches himself against me again. The heat of his chest against my back, the feeling of him stretching me open—it’s heavenly. And when he fists my hair, tugging my head back? I’m helpless to do more than let out a breathy moan.
“I’m going to come in this little cunt, and then, and only then,will I make you come. Got it?” The bite in his words should scare me, but instead, it has me arching back into him and clenching down, desperate for him to make good on his threats.
“Harder. I can take it. I promise,” I beg, urging him to take what he needs from me. With a curse, he straightens up, but before I can mourn the loss of contact, he’s palming my ass cheeks as his pace increases. With every thrust, he’s getting more and more desperate, and so am I.
“Fuck, that’s it. Take my cum inside your cunt. Keep it there,” he demands as his hips stutter and his release floods me. Before I have time to process what’s going on, he drops to his knees behind me, his big palms spreading me open and his tongue pushing his cum back inside me. My eyes roll back as I scramble for something to hold onto as he picks up where he left off, flicking my clit and thrusting his fingers inside me until, with a cry, I come all over his hand and mouth.
“Mmm, that’s my good fucking girl, keeping my cum exactly where it belongs.” With a final kiss to my clit, he scoops me up and takes a seat in his chair again, with me curled up on his lap, careless of the mess I’m leaving on his thousand pound suit.
“Thank you, sweetheart. I needed that,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my forehead. With a hum, I curl in closer, fisting his shirt in my hand and basking in the afterglow with him. Soon, we’ll need to move and clean up, but for now, holding each other close like this is all we need to do.
Chapter 22
Three months later
“Remind me again why I let you drag me here?” I quirk my eyebrow at Donna as she weaves us through the busy streets of London with a single-minded determination that has people jumping out of her way.
“Because you know there’s no point fighting me. I’d beat you in a heartbeat, never mind with the backing of my girls. Now come. We’re running closer to being late versus fashionably late.” Looking at me over her shoulder, she winks before linking arms with me and leading the way to O’Neill’s. Hardly what I would call a casual work lunch location, and if I had known this was where she was bringing me, I’d have at least attempted to tame my curls and touch up my makeup. You’d think that after close to a year working with her, I’d know better than to take her offers at face value.
Waving off the hostess, she leads me to a set of doors to a separate, more intimate dining area. When Donna proposed I join her for lunch, I’d assumed she meant nipping out to the sandwich shop across the road, not coming halfway across town to Jonathan’s Michelin starrestaurant. I certainly hadn’t expected to be blindsided into meeting more people tied up in the Four Points. Taking a deep breath, I push my shoulders back and follow Donna’s lead.
Pushing the door open reveals a darker, more private section of the restaurant. Peering around the empty room, I clock the two women waiting for us. Looking at them is like night and day. Where one is polished to perfection, the other has a slight dusting of flour across her cheeks and arms. Both are absolutely stunning in an old money kind of way, the same way Donna is, and as someone who grew up in mafia circles, it’s clear to me that these women aren’t just dating mafia men—they’ve been raised in the life.
“Donna, how lovely of you to deign to join us,” the elegant one drawls with a smirk on her face.
