Page 118 of Nine Months to Bear
Stefan’s hand slides up my spine, pushing me forward until my chest is pressed against the desk. “That’s a good girl.”
He pushes into me in one smooth thrust. We both groan.
“Blyat’,” he mutters. “You feel incredible.”
He starts to move, slow at first, then faster. Each thrust pushes me harder against the desk, the edge digging into my hips. I don’t care. All I care about is the feeling of him inside me, filling me completely.
“Harder,” I plead.
He complies, his hips snapping against mine with enough force to shudder the desk.
“Is this what you wanted?” he growls. “Is this why you came to my office wearing practically nothing?”
“Yes.”
“Say my name.”
“Stefan.”
“Again.”
“Stefan!”
His hand slides around to find my clit, rubbing in tight circles. “Good girl. Now, come for me, Olivia. Let me feel you.”
I blow up.
The orgasm rips through me. My walls clench and spasm around him as I cry out his name. Somewhere under my elbow, I hear the sharp crunch of a pen snapping in two. I don’t care. The wood is slick with sweat, with smeared ink, with my fogged breath.
Stefan’s hand fists in my hair and yanks my head back until I’m staring up at the chandelier that hangs low from the ceiling, its cut-glass edges scattering shards of light across the room. His breath is hot against my ear.
“You look like a fucking goddess,” he growls.
Then he slams into me harder.
I try to muffle the sounds ripping out of me, but when his hand snakes around and shoves aside a stack of leather-boundledgers, using one to wedge beneath my hips to angle me higher, I cry out helplessly.
A crystal tumbler lies tipped on its side beside my cheek, amber liquid dripping slowly off the rim. Stefan notices. He reaches past me, presses the cool glass against my lips.
“Drink,” he orders, tilting it just enough that the burn of whiskey floods my mouth. I choke, swallow, the raw heat of it mingling with the even fiercer burn of him inside me.
He fucks me harder, faster, until my body bows under the strain, until there’s no Olivia and Stefan, only friction and fire and the storm we’ve created between us.
When one more release finally tears through me, I want to dissociate like I always do, because once the orgasms are done, the feelings will follow, and that’s a recipe for disaster.
But Stefan doesn’t let me drift. He holds me pinned to the desk until he comes, too.
“Stay here with me,” he snarls as he starts to erupt inside me. “Stay here and be mine.”
With a few more stuttering jerks, he finishes.
We stay like that for a while—him draped over my back, both of us breathing hard. Content just to share the same space.
Then Stefan pulls out slowly. He doesn’t go far, though. He stays behind me and brushes his hand down my spine. I can feel the tremor in his fingers.
“You made a mess of my office,” he mutters.
I laugh, hoarse, into the wood. “Fair is fair. You made a mess of me.”
