Page 42 of Under Your Scars
“It wasn’t in bad faith!”
He laughs, and when we finally ascend to the top floor, the elevator opens, and I swoon. The entire office has been rearranged. The conference table is now on the left side of the room, and the right side has been made into a small break area. There’s a coffee machine, a microwave, and a mini fridge.
Curiosity tingles in my spine and I open the mini fridge to find a large container of hazelnut creamer amongst a pitcher of water and an unopened bottle of expensive champagne. In the small freezer, a selection of my favorite dollar-store frozen meals. I bite my lip to stifle a giggle.
I see more than you think I do.
He really does pay attention, because how else could he have known that I have a monopoly on the hazelnut creamer downstairs? I don’t think I’ve ever even had coffee in front of him.
Closing the fridge, I turn back to face the office. On the other side of the room, closest to the back wall of windows, the office is divided down the center, the left side for him, the right side for me. We now have matching desks that are facing each other, and my new office chair is custom monogrammed with my initials, E.L.Y, in a purple embroidery thread.
“You don’t do anything halfway, do you?” I ask, my hands on my cheeks to hide the blush as I walk to my new desk and set down my purse.
“No, I don’t do anything halfway. Especially when it comes to you.” He stands directly behind me and brushes my hair off one shoulder. I shiver when his fingers graze the skin there. I feel him lean down, and in our reflection in the windowpanes, I watch him press a kiss to the side of my neck. His fingers ghost down my arms before resting on my hips.
I take a deep breath when he sucks on my neck slightly, sending electricity down my spine straight to my core. His hands on my waist grip tighter and spin me around so that we’re chest to chest. I look up at him from under my lashes as he lifts me up and takes us across the room to set me on the conference table. “I’m so glad you’re all mine now, because I get to do this.” He crashes his lips to mine, all tongue and teeth, and trails his hands under my dress until he finds my panties, ripping them off without a second thought and throwing the ribbons of lace haphazardly across the room. “Whenever I want. As much as I want.”
My stomach plummets as his knees hit the marble floors and he takes me in, all bare and already weeping for him. I feel his hot breath fan across my core, and it makes me clench my legs together slightly, and he wraps them around his broad shoulders to keep them open.
His tongue licks a thick stripe up my aching core. I fall back against the table and moan loudly. Christian ravishes me like he’s been starving for months. He licks and sucks on my clit and plunges his tongue into my needy hole as deep as he can manage. My hands find their way into his hair, desperate to hang on to something, pulling him closer. “You taste so fucking good, Elena. I could stay down here forever.”
He plunges a finger into me and curls it as he sucks on my clit, and I cum with a wail loud enough to wake the dead.
I hear Christian moan in delight as he laps up every drop of my release and stays there until I’m begging him to stop. He gets up, standing like a god over me while I’m splayed out on the conference table like a harlot. My cheeks and chest are no doubt flushed bright red from desire and my breaths are heavy with anticipation and need.
He quickly gets to work on his belt. “I need to be inside you.Right fucking now.”
When he frees his cock from his pants, he’s eight inches of solid titanium, thick and leaking precum. My chest begins to heave faster, and his hands snake up my back until they reach the zipper of my dress, tugging it down and then exposing my chest to him.
Instead of doing what I expect him to do, which is pull me closer to the edge of the table to reach me, he crawls onto the table with me, covering my body with his. His cock twitches against my core and I let out a whine of anticipation.
He pulls back and slaps the tip against my swollen clit. He smirks and gathers some of my wetness on his fingertips, smearing my arousal over his cock. He throws his head back and sighs. “God, you’re so fucking wet, angel.”
I open my mouth to ask him what he just called me, but all that escapes is a cry of agonizing pleasure when he presses into me without warning, seating himself fully inside me in one fluid motion. He captures my shallow breaths with one kiss after another as he rails me so hard I nearly go blind. I hold onto him for dear life, clutching at his suit and dragging my nails down the expensive fabric.
Christian fists a hand in my loose hair and exposes my throat to him, licking and sucking until he marks me as his. He sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck, you were made for me. Your pretty pussy was made to be mine.”
I know I’m dripping obscenely onto the conference table, and I pray nobody sitting here will be able to see the imprint of our passion on the rich mahogany. With his hand still in a tight fist tangled in my hair, he lifts my mouth up to his and swallows my desperate moans. We share breaths. My inhale is his exhale. He’s drinking in the noises I’m making like they’re a symphony made just for him.
In a way, I guess they are.
He uses his free hand to trace my bottom lip as I stare up at him, half delirious from pleasure.
He begins rolling his hips again, slowly grinding into me, catching that sweet spot inside me. My brow furrows and I let out another breathy moan, wrapping my arms around his neck and tugging on the locks at the base of his head.
He finishes inside me with a loud groan at the same time I throw my head back in pure euphoria. My bones almost crack under his unyielding grip as he twitches inside me. A mixture of our release drips onto the table when he pulls out. He licks his lips as he looks between my legs, gathers some of it up on his fingers and shoves it back inside me. I hiss from the sensation.
He tucks himself back into his pants, his hair a dead giveaway of our rendezvous, and I’m sure I look like a chaotic fucked-out mess.
“I think I’m beginning to like Mondays,” Christian teases with a wink, taking a seat in one of the chairs at the conference table. He takes a cigarette from a silver case in his pocket and lights it.
I playfully roll my eyes. “You owe me a new pair of underwear.”
He blows smoke to the side. “You don’t need them. If you thought that was the only time I was going to fuck you today, you’re dead wrong.”
I can feel our combined release leaking slowly out of me and onto the table. I cross my legs to try and keep it contained, and Christian growls, rolling his chair directly between my legs after uncrossing them. He flips up the bottom of my skirt and places my feet on the arms of his chair, exposing my center to him again. His eyes catch on the ugly anklet the Silencer gave me, but he doesn’t comment on it. He shrugs off his suit jacket and tosses it carelessly behind him as he looks me over.
Blush creeps to my cheeks in the most delicious way. This feels absolutely filthy, his gaze nothing short of feral. It’s like he’s committing this moment to memory, the way my pink folds look after being abused by him. He lightly brushes his thumb across my clit, and I nearly jump off the table from the hypersensitivity.
