Page 41 of Claimed By The Club
A flush of warmth spreads through me. I realize how close we are—her knees almost touching mine, the air filled with her subtle perfume. The pounding of my heart feels too loud in the hush. She meets my gaze, and something electric charges the space between us.
She exhales, voice unsteady. “Ghost…”
“Sierra,” I return, just as softly.
It takes only a small tilt of my head to press my lips against hers, the connection gentle yet charged. She releases a quiet sound that vibrates through my chest. We linger in that tender moment, mouths exploring in tentative, growing passion. My hand slides to her waist, pulling her closer until her body leans against mine, an anchor against the swirling chaos outside this room.
She breaks the kiss, cheeks flushed. “We shouldn’t do this here,” she murmurs, though her tone suggests she’s not pulling away.
I glance at the door. It’s closed, not locked. The hallway might be empty, but we can’t be sure. Still, the need coursing through me overrides caution. “Lock it,” I say quietly, and she nods, stepping over to twist the lock with trembling fingers.
Returning, she studies me with uncertainty warring in her eyes. “I… I don’t want to cause more gossip.”
I stand from the desk corner and guide her backward until her hips bump the edge. “Let them talk.” My hands settle on her waist, fingers pressing into the soft material of her shirt. “I’d rather have this moment than let fear keep us apart.”
She exhales, relief mingling with desire. Our second kiss is more insistent, tension unraveling as we share breath. Every ounce of worry about the traitor or the Reapers falls away, replaced by the warmth of her lips, her body, her presence. My hands roam up, sliding beneath her top to graze her spine. She sighs, arching toward me, letting me deepen the kiss.
Her hands tangle in my hair, nails grazing my scalp. My heart pounds faster, a rush of adrenaline flooding me like a storm. I realize I’ve been wanting this—an unguarded closeness with her—for longer than I admitted to myself. When she murmurs my real name, Luke, a raw ache expands in my chest.
We fumble around the cluttered desk, lips locked in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, tongues sliding together like we’re starving for it. My hands grip her hips, dragging her closer as she arches into me, her tits pressed against my chest. Papers scatter to the floor, forgotten—nothing matters but the slick heat of her mouth and the way her fingers dig into my shoulders, claiming me.
She shifts, perching on the desk, legs spreading to cradle me between her thighs. I can already feel the damp heat of her pussy through her clothes, and my cock throbs, aching to be inside her. Our breathing is ragged, desperate, the air between us thick with need. The distant hum of the air conditioner does nothing to cool the fire burning under my skin.
“Ghost—Luke, I need you,” she whispers, her voice almost begging. I kiss her, unable to stop myself.
Her fingers find the hem of my shirt, tugging it up with a rough urgency. I break the kiss just long enough to yank it over my head and toss it aside. The overhead light glows against the ink on my torso, the scars she’s traced before with reverence—but tonight, there’s no softness in her touch. Her nails scrape down my chest, making me hiss, and then her palm cups the hard bulge in my jeans, squeezing just enough to make my knees weak.
“Fuck,” I groan, crashing my mouth back onto hers, biting her lower lip. She whimpers, her hips rocking up against my hand as I slide it between her legs, rubbing the rough denim over her clit. She’s already wet—soaked—and the scent of her arousal hits me like a punch to the gut.
“I need you,” she gasps, fingers fumbling with my belt. “Now.”
I don’t make her ask twice. I shove her back onto the desk, knocking a stack of files to the floor, and yank her jeans down her thighs. Her pussy glistens, bare and perfect, and I drag my thumb through her folds, spreading her open. She bucks against my hand, a filthy moan tearing from her throat as I circle her clit, slow and teasing.
“You’re dripping for me,” I growl, leaning down to lick a hot stripe up her slit. She tastes fucking divine—sweet and salty, all mine. Her thighs clamp around my head as I bury my face between them, sucking her clit into my mouth while my fingers plunge inside her, curling just right to make her scream.
“Oh God—fuck—Luke!” Her hands fist in my hair, holding me there as she grinds against my tongue. I don’t let up, fucking her with my fingers, lapping at her until her whole body tenses, her back bowing off the desk as she comes with a broken cry.
“You taste so good, perfect. My favorite kind of flavor,” I murmur against her skin, savoring every drop of her honey. I plunge my tongue in her, and she shivers as mini-orgasm wrecks her body.
“Luke!”
Before Sierra can recover, I’m unbuckling my jeans, shoving them down just enough to free my cock. It’s thick, flushed,leaking at the tip—and when she sees it, her eyes darken with hunger. She reaches for me, wrapping her fingers around my length, stroking me slowly.
“I want your dick inside me. It’s thick,” she breathes, spreading her legs wider as her eyes widen a fraction. “Please.”
“Open your cunt for me, part those pussy lips, baby,” I order, watching her as I grip my dick. She gasps, but follows my orders, and spread her legs even wider then her two hands spread those lips open. It glistens, wet and smooth.
“Sierra,” I call out, staring and moving closer.
“Fuck it, Luke. This is embarrassing!” she moans, trying to hide her face on the table but she creams more. I chuckle as I move upwards and kiss her. “Just fuck me with that thick dick, make me lost it!”
“Your wish is my command,” I groan, then I grip her hips, dragging her to the very edge of the desk, and slam into her in one brutal thrust. She gasps, nails raking down my back as I fill her to the hilt, her tight, wet heat clamping around me like a fucking vice.
“Jesus,” I grit out, fighting the urge to come right then. She’s so goddamn perfect, taking every inch, her pussy fluttering around my cock as I start to move.
There’s nothing slow about it now—just raw, desperate fucking. The desk creaks beneath us, her tits bouncing with every snap of my hips. She meets me thrust for thrust, her moans loud, unfiltered, fucking filthy as I pound into her.
“Harder,” she demands, arching up to bite my shoulder. “I want to feel you tomorrow.”
