Page 242 of The Rules
"Say it," he growled. Not a request. A command.
She looked up at him—eyes dark, lips swollen, voicewrecked but brazen.
"I want you to fuck me," she said, low and filthy. "No teasing. No mercy. Just bend me over and fuck me like I’m yours to use."
She licked her lips, slow and deliberate.
"Make me feel it for days."
Benjamin felt something inside him snap—a thread pulled too tight, a dam finally giving way. His control, his restraint, everything he prided himself on maintaining—gone in an instant.
The world seemed to pause around them, suspended in that final moment before chaos. One heartbeat. Two. Then nothing but feral, unspoken hunger.
He spun her around again, hands firm on her waist, guiding her backward with sure, commanding steps.
Her thighs bumped the edge of the desk. Without hesitation, he lifted her effortlessly and sat her down, the paper-strewn surface crumpling beneath her. Katherine braced herself on her palms, the muscles in her arms flexing as she leaned back slightly, legs parting just enough to welcome him in.
Ben stepped in closer, one hand gripping her hip to keep her steady while the other moved to his belt. The metallic clink echoed sharply in the office—precise, deliberate, loaded with intent. He unfastened it in a single motion, pulling the leather free with a hiss before unbuttoning and dragging his zipper down.
He reached inside and freed himself, his cock heavy and hard in his palm. A sharp inhale left him as he stroked once, slow, base to tip. His gaze roamed her body with a possessive intensity—every curve, every breath, the flush blooming across her chest.
Katherine’s breath stuttered, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow waves. She leaned back on her hands, elbows locked, spine arched slightly as she rested her weight against them. Her fingers flexed once on the desk. She was open. Ready. Aching.
Heleaned in, his chest brushing hers. He angled his face toward hers, not kissing her mouth but instead brushing his lips along the edge of her chin.
"You’ve no idea what you do to me," he whispered, his breath hot on her skin, his voice roughened with restraint.
He watched as understanding dawned in her eyes.
"You don't get to say things like that," he growled, "and think I'll take it easy."
He grabbed her thighs, yanking her forward again—hard. The force of it made her gasp, her eyes widening with anticipation rather than fear. One hand fisted in her hair, tugging her head back just enough to bare her throat. The other wrapped around his cock, lining up against her entrance.
Ben dragged the head along her slick folds, teasing her, watching her lips part in desperate anticipation. He felt her heat, her wetness, the way her body trembled in expectation of what was coming.
Then he thrust. Hard. She gasped—more sound than air.
The sight of her—completely undone, completely his—sent a surge of primal satisfaction through him.
He didn't give her time to adjust. He pulled back and slammed into her again, and again, each stroke brutal, unforgiving. The desk creaked beneath them, papers scattered to the floor, but he couldn't have cared less. All that mattered was her—the way she took every inch, trembling, moaning, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy.
Ben growled against her throat, biting just enough to mark. To claim. To remind her exactly who she belonged to.
"You asked for this," he panted. "You played me. In that courtroom. In front of everyone."
Didn’t slow down.
If anything, the need made him merciless.
Control wasn’t slipping—it had already shattered. Every nerve in his body screamed for more. For her. For the way she opened under him like she was made to be claimed. This wasn’t about finesse. It was about possession.
His hand found her throat toown.
His fingers curled, pressing gently, firmly against the delicate skin. A reminder. A claim. A command. He felt her pulse hammering beneath his palm, felt the vibration of her moan against his fingertips.
“You're mine,” he murmured, voice low and deliberate. “And I won’t let you forget what that means.”
Her moan ripped out of her chest—raw, shattered,perfect. The sound was pure surrender, pure need, and it punched straight through him. A shot of fire to the base of his spine.
