Page 34 of The Boss's Forbidden Assistant

He swore, the curse filling the hotel room, his hips bucking at the contact.

‘Harper, no.’

‘Why not?’ She purred.

‘You know why not. I want to feel you.’

‘And you will.’ She ran her tongue around his circumference. ‘But first I want to taste you.’

Another curse, this one on a rough exhalation like a surrender, and then she opened her mouth and took him all the way to the back of her throat, revelling in the power of this—in the way he jerked in her mouth, in the way she could already taste him, in the way he was so incredibly big and powerful so that her insides were jumping at the prospect of accommodating him, of squeezing around his length.

She moved her mouth, wishing there was a mirror here for him to see, wishing she could watch this. There was something so incredibly sexy about feeling him in her mouth, about the way he filled her. She trembled against his body and then he caught her beneath her arms, lifting her until their eyes were almost level, his expression taut, stern, as though he was holding on for dear life.

‘I want you,’ he said simply. ‘It’s been a very long time. I can’t wait any more.’

She understood. She felt a ripple of excitement as they reached for the bag in unison. He got there first, ripping it open and pulling a foil square from a box, sheathing himself quickly for someone who was out of practice.

And now, at that moment of change, of intimacy, Harper felt a rush of nervousness, because this was more than just sex. It was more to both of them because of what they’d each come through. She stared up at him but he smiled, a tight smile, showing the pain he felt at waiting, and she smiled back because she’d made her peace with this. She knew what they were and what they could never be because of how he still felt about his wife. All she wanted was to have this moment, this single night.

He kissed her at the same time as moving forward so she fell backwards on the bed with him on top of her, so heavy and strong, so hard. His thigh moved between her legs, his knee wedging her apart so his tip could press to her sex, and she whimpered, desire flushing through her body.

‘Tell me if this hurts,’ he ground out, and then she got why he warned her. Because, though he’d felt big in her mouth, when he began to press inside her she realised that he was really quite huge, stretching her so that she froze a moment and he did likewise, staring down at her. ‘Okay?’

She nodded, because she was. Once she got used to it, she was fine. Hungry for him, in fact hungry for more. For all of him.

‘Please,’ she said simply, lifting her hips, begging, inviting, needing.

He groaned as he sank all of him into her, hitched right to his base, and she cried out, the shocking feeling of how completely he possessed her overwriting everything and anything she’d thought she knew about sex. She might as well still have been a virgin. No man had ever touched her like this.

A sheen of tears filmed her eyes and she blinked furiously, desperate for him not to see or notice, not to worry that this meant something more to her than it was supposed to. It didn’t. It was just such good, hot sex. She’d had no idea...

And it became even more mind-blowing once he started to move, thrusting in and out, slowly at first, letting her get used to this and him. Then finally, with all the force of his pent-up desire and long-ignored needs, he pushed into her hard and fast so her body banged against the bed and she cried out with each desperate, hungry thrust. Her own desire pushed to fever pitch, to breaking point, and she called his name into the room, dragging her nails into his back and digging in when her orgasm obliterated her soul in one fierce, agonising moment.

She could hardly breathe, barely see. She lay there, quivering, overcome, totally overpowered. Salvador watched her, satisfaction in his features, pleasure and heat, and then he began to move—with no mercy. He was enjoying this too much. Hell, so was she, and her expectations had been lowered by how long he’d been celibate.

What a fool she’d been to underestimate Salvador! He brought his A-game to whatever he did, and right now that was pleasuring Harper.

He grunted and then pulled out of her completely, pressing his hands to the bed on either side, his breath as forced as if he’d just run a marathon.

‘What is it?’ she asked, lifting a hand, pressing it to his chest. His heart punched her from the inside.

‘Come here.’ The command in his tone was as hot now as it had been the first time they’d met and he’d bossed her around. She bit down on her lip to hold back her smile and let him pull her from the bed, going with him as he moved her across the room to a mirror—of course there was a mirror in here—standing in the corner.

‘I want to see this. I want you to see it.’

Standing behind her, he moved one hand to her sex and another to her breasts, playing her with the same skill as he’d shown earlier. But this time she was watching how he commanded her, how his hands moved over her, tweaking her nipples, separating her sex. At her back, she felt his arousal, wet from her own desire, nuzzled between her bottom, so on instinct alone she pressed back against him, needing everything he could give her, all that he was, needing him with a passion that she’d never known possible.

He separated her legs and, with their eyes locked in the mirror, he took her and she cried out, tilting her head back, her crown hitting his clavicle, sensations overpowering her as his hands roamed her body, tormenting her.

Finally she had to look, to see, to witness what he was doing to her. She lifted her head bravely, stared in the mirror and almost wept for how beautiful this was. There was something so right about this, about the way they came together, the way they fitted and pleasured each other, about the way they experienced desire and lust as one. Then, finally, release in lockstep, each spilling over the edge, their frantic cries in unison as they tumbled headlong into the kind of pleasure reserved for gods in books of magic and myth.

Harper wasn’t sure she’d ever feel human again—she didn’t know if she wanted to.

CHAPTER TEN

SALVADORWASCOMPLETELYDISCOMBOBULATED, his body separated from his mind, from his thoughts and dreams. He frowned. There was a weight on his arm he didn’t understand; his eyes searched the dim light for clues as to his whereabouts, while his body surged with a rush of something he barely recognised. And then it all came back to him.

The last few hours. The bar. Their conversation. The room. Her mouth on him. His mouth on her. His possession of her. Her reciprocation. Her total abandonment to this, as if she’d known he’d needed to feel completely animal and wild when he had sex with a woman for the first time since Anna-Maria. As if she’d known everything he needed, everything he was.

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