Page 104 of Tuned To Break
“You’re very distracting, Ms Lloyd,” I tell her, turning her and easing her back against the desk edge.
“Am I? I was just trying to work.”
“And you looked so beautiful doing it. All focused and competent and in control.” My hands trace her sides, feeling the curves I’ve memorised over the past months. “Do you know what that does to me?”
“Tell me,” she whispers.
“It makes me want to mess you up a little. Make you forget spreadsheets and quarterly reports.” I lift her onto the desk andstep between her legs. “Make you think about nothing but how good I can make you feel.”
Her hands fist in my shirt, hauling me closer. “Show me.”
Permission is all I need. I kiss her deep, pouring the months of want and all the love into it. She melts, arms winding around my neck.
“God, I love kissing you,” I murmur against her lips. “Could do it for hours.”
“We don’t have hours,” she reminds me, breathless.
“Then we’d better make the most of the time we’ve got.”
My hands find the hem of her dress, sliding it up her thighs slowly, teasingly. She’s wearing stockings—her ‘extra professional’ armour—and the silk against bare skin does my head in.
“These stockings,” I growl, fingers toying at the lace tops, “are going to be the death of me.”
“That was the idea,” she admits with a wicked smile.
“Tease.”
“You love it.”
“I love you,” I correct, my hands gliding higher to the edge of her panties.
She’s already wet when I touch her through the fabric, already ready for me. The knowledge that I can affect her this quickly, this completely, never fails to amaze me.
“Fuck, Stella,” I breathe. “You’re so wet.”
“Your fault,” she gasps as I push the fabric aside and stroke her.
“Good. I want to be the only one who makes you feel like this.”
My fingers work her steadily, and I watch her try to keep quiet as pleasure builds. Her head tips back, mouth open on a silent moan, and the sight is so erotic I nearly lose it.
“That’s it,” I coax, circling her clit. “Let go for me, darl.”
“I can’t… not here… someone might hear…”
“Then you’d better stay quiet,” I murmur, my free hand coming up to rest gently at her throat—that spot that always undoes her.
The combination of my hand between her thighs and that light pressure at her throat tips her over. She comes with a stifled cry, body shuddering as the waves of pleasure wash over her.
“Beautiful,” I murmur, watching her fall apart. “So fucking beautiful.”
When she floats back down, she looks up at me, dazed and satisfied.
“That was…” she starts.
“Unprofessional?” I offer, grinning.
“Incredible,” she corrects. “But also very unprofessional.”
