Page 16 of Kissing the Boss
He steps back between my legs, one hand guiding himself to my entrance. "You're sure?" he asks, voice strained with the effort of holding back.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "I've never been more sure."
When he's seated fully inside me, we both pause, foreheads pressed together, sharing ragged breaths.
"Move," I urge, rocking against him. "Please, Jonathan. I need you to move."
He starts with slow, measured thrusts, each one sending sparks of pleasure up my spine. The desk creaks beneath us, papers and pens clattering to the floor with each movement.
"Harder," I plead, digging my heels into his lower back. "I won't break."
His pace quickens, each thrust more powerful than the last. The angle drives him deeper, hitting spots inside me that make coherent thought impossible.
"Like that?" he asks, voice rough. "This what you need?"
"Yes," I gasp, meeting each thrust. "God, yes."
His hands slide under my thighs, lifting them higher, changing the angle again. The new position has me seeing stars with every movement, pleasure building impossibly higher.
"Wanted this," he mutters against my neck, sweat beading on his brow. "Wanted you. From the first moment. So fucking beautiful."
His words, combined with the relentless rhythm of our bodies, push me toward a second peak. I cling to his shoulders, nails digging into the firm muscle, leaving half-moon marks I'll see tomorrow.
The thought of tomorrow—of seeing these marks, of knowing what we've done—sends a fresh wave of heat through me.
"Jonathan," I moan, feeling the tension coil tight inside me. "I'm going to—"
"Not yet," he growls, suddenly slowing. "Not like this."
Before I can protest, he withdraws, leaving me empty and aching. I whimper at the loss, but then he's lifting me from the desk, turning to sit in his office chair pulling me into his lap.
"Like this," he says, guiding me over him. "I want to see your face when you come."
I sink down on him slowly, taking him even deeper in this new position. We both groan at the sensation. His hands settle on my hips, helping me find a rhythm that soon has us both panting.
I can see everything, the flush on his chest, the concentration in his eyes, the way his jaw tightens with each thrust. His hands roam my body, cupping my breasts, tracing my curves, as if he can't get enough of touching me.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, one hand coming up to brush a curl from my face. "So fucking perfect."
The tenderness in the gesture, contrasting with the raw desire in his voice, makes my heart clench. I lean down to kiss him,pouring everything I can't say into it. He responds with equal fervor, tongue tangling with mine as our bodies continue their primal dance.
The new angle sends him deeper with each movement, hitting a spot inside me that makes sparks explode behind my eyelids. My pace quickens, chasing the building pleasure. His hands grip my hips tighter, guiding me, urging me on.
"That's it," he encourages, voice strained. "Take what you want. Show me how you like it."
I lose myself in the rhythm, in the feeling of him filling me so completely. One of his hands slides between us, finding where we're joined, his thumb circling my sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Oh god," I gasp, the dual sensations pushing me closer to the edge. "Jonathan, I'm close."
"Let go," he urges, eyes locked on mine. "I want to feel you come around me."
His thumb presses harder, circling faster, and the tension inside me snaps. The orgasm hits like a tidal wave, more intense than the first, radiating outward until I'm trembling in his arms. I cry out his name, back arching, inner muscles clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me.
Jonathan holds me through it, his movements slowing to let me ride out every aftershock. When I collapse against his chest, boneless and gasping, he wraps his arms around me tightly.
I can feel him still hard inside me, his restraint evident in the tension of his muscles. I lift my head, meeting his gaze.
"You didn't..."
