Page 110 of Game Misconduct
I grip the edge of the desk, heat curling between my legs, pulse thundering. “Someone could walk by.”
“There’s no one here.”
His voice is a rasp as he kisses along my jaw, his fingersalready finding me beneath my panties. “You’ve been in my head all damn day. Couldn’t think straight on the ice.”
“And this is your solution?”
“No,” he says, breath hot at my ear. “This is your punishment.”
I bite my lip to stifle a moan as he sinks two fingers inside me, curling them just right while his thumb circles exactly where I need him.
The desk shudders beneath me. My head tips back, my breath catching, a needy sound slipping free before I can swallow it down.
“You’re soaked for me,” he whispers, watching my face like it’s his favorite play. “And you’re gonna come on my fingers before I ever get my cock out.”
I dig my heels into the edge of the desk, everything inside me coiling tighter with every stroke. My hand fists in his shirt, dragging him closer until our mouths crash together again—hot, messy, and desperate.
And then I fall. Hard.
Silently, shaking, my body clenching around his fingers as I cling to him and ride it out.
Before I can even catch my breath, he’s unbuckling his belt.
“Thought this wasn’t a good idea,” I manage, still panting.
He gives me a look that’s pure trouble. “It’s a fucking terrible idea.”
He yanks me to the edge and drives into me in one long, hungry stroke.
I bite his shoulder to keep from crying out.
He sets a brutal rhythm, one hand over my mouth to keep me quiet, the other gripping my thigh as he pounds into me like doing so is the only way he can keep breathing.
My desk creaks. A pen rolls off and clatters to the floor.
All I can do is hold on.
He slams into me once, twice more and groans low in my earas he comes, shuddering against me, burying his face in my neck like he wants to live there.
We stay like that for a second—bodies tangled, breath short, hearts wild.
Then he pulls back just enough to press a kiss to my jaw.
“We’ve got to be more careful,” I whisper, still trying to catch my breath.
He nods, brushing a hand down my thigh. “Yeah,” he says softly. “We really do.”
But neither of us moves for a moment.
When we finally do, there’s a silence between us, but it’s not uncomfortable.
Just quiet. Settled.
The kind of hush that comes after need is met, and something deeper is left behind.
I fix my skirt while Maddox buttons his pants. He grabs a tissue from the corner of my desk and wipes his hand, then catches my chin gently between his fingers, lifting my face to his.
“You okay?”
