Page 85 of Cannon
“Cannon,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he pushed me back against the desk, his mouth claiming mine with bruising force. I gasped against his lips, my hands flying to his shoulders tosteady myself. But he wasn’t gentle, wasn’t asking permission. His kiss was punishment and pleasure all at once.
“You think you run everything,” he growled against my mouth. “That everyone jumps when you say so.”
His hands slid down my waist, gripping my hips so hard I knew I’d have marks tomorrow. I didn’t care. I wanted them.
“Maybe I do,” I challenged, even as he lifted me onto the desk, scattering papers to the floor.
He laughed, dark and low. “Not with me, Queen. Not tonight.”
His hands pushed my skirt up around my waist, ripping my lace panties away like they were nothing. I should have been mad about the designer lingerie, but all I could think about was the way his eyes burned into mine, possessive and dangerous.
“Tell me you want this,” he demanded, his voice rough as he unbuckled his belt.
“I want you,” I admitted, the words torn from somewhere deep inside me.
He entered me without warning, filling me completely in one powerful thrust. I cried out, my head falling back, mascara-stained tears pricking at the corners of my eyes from the intensity.
“Look at me,” he commanded, one hand wrapping around my throat, not squeezing but holding me there. “I want to see your face when you come apart.”
I couldn’t look away from those eyes if I tried. He moved inside me with deliberate, punishing strokes, each one pushing me closer to the edge. My perfectly applied makeup was running, black tears tracking down my cheeks, but I didn’t care. For once in my life, I wasn’t in control, and it felt like freedom.
“That’s it,” he murmured, his thumb brushing away a smeared tear. “Let go for me, Queen.”
When I finally shattered, it was with his name on my lips, my nails digging crescents into his tattooed arms. He followed soon after, his body tensing against mine as he groaned into my neck.
The aftershocks of my orgasm were still rippling through me when I opened my eyes to survey the damage. My desk looked like a tornado had hit it, papers scattered across the floor, pens rolling under furniture, my smashed phone lying in pieces near the door. My thighs trembled as Cannon pulled away, tucking himself back into his pants with that infuriating calm that never seemed to leave him.
I slid off the desk on shaky legs, trying to gather myself, but my reflection in the small mirror on the wall stopped me cold. Black streaks of mascara ran down my cheeks like war paint. My lipstick was smeared halfway across my face. I looked like a goddamn wreck.
“Shit,” I muttered, reaching for tissues.
Before I could even begin to clean myself up, the door to my office swung open without a knock.
“Queen, we need to talk about…” Javi froze in the doorway, his eyes taking in everything at once, my tear-streaked face, the destroyed office, Cannon standing there.
“What the fuck did you do to her?” Javi’s voice went deadly quiet, his hand already moving to the gun at his hip.
“This ain’t what it looks like,” I started, but Javi wasn’t listening.
“Get away from her,” he snarled at Cannon, stepping into the room. “NOW!”
Cannon didn’t budge, just tilted his head slow, that cold smirk tugging at his mouth. “Toy cop, you might want to learn how to knock before you get hurt.”
“I said get the fuck away from her!” Javi lunged, both hands gripping Cannon’s collar, slamming him back against the wall.
That was his mistake.
Cannon’s fist shot up like a piston, cracking Javi across the jaw so hard his head snapped sideways. Before he could recover, Cannon drove a knee into his ribs, the sound of bone giving under the pressure making my stomach twist.
Javi gasped, stumbled, but Cannon wasn’t done. He snatched him by the shirtfront and rag-dolled him across the room, sending him crashing into the edge of the coffee table. Wood splintered, glass rattled, and Javi groaned, clutching his side.
“Stop!” I cried, but Cannon’s eyes were pure ice. He walked forward, crouched low, and grabbed Javi by the back of the neck, slamming his face into the floor once.
Blood smeared across the hardwood as Javi coughed, swinging blindly, but Cannon caught his fist midair and twisted until Javi screamed. He drove an elbow into his face for good measure, splitting his lip wide open.
“ENOUGH!” I screamed, rushing forward to grab Javi’s arm as Cannon pulled back for another punch. “Cannon, stop! You’re going to kill him!”
