Page 79 of Taken As Collateral

“Can I come?” I ask right away.

“When I say you can.”

He slides two fingers into me, jarring my whole body with pleasure at his strokes.

“Please?” I add.

He doesn’t say anything as he continues to finger-fuck me, producing wet, squishing sounds to go with my moans.

“Please!” I try again as tension coils in my loins.

Withdrawing his fingers, he wipes the wetness on a buttock and sinks his cock into me. I decide this is my favorite angle of penetration, though I don’t get to look into his eyes this way.

“Grab your ankles,” he tells me.

I do as he says, though this makes the desk a lot less comfortable because I can’t prop up my upper body. Even though my bust is small, it still doesn’t feel great smushed against the desktop.

Holding my thighs, he rolls his hips into me. I shiver in delight.

“Can I come?” I ask again.

“Not yet.”

His rhythm layers arousal on top of arousal. I don’t know if I can hold back until he gives me permission to come.

“Please,” I beg.

“Are you going to thank me for your orgasm this time?”

“Yes, yes! Just let me come.” I bite down on my lip when he doesn’t say anything. He’ll let me come soon, right? I whimper. “Please, Sir.”

“Almost.”

I grunt in my effort to hold off my orgasm. One of my ankles slips from my hand. I nearly come. “Pleeeease.”

“Come.”

A few seconds later, I flail atop his desk. I drop my ankles, unable to hold onto them as I convulse. Still holding my legs, he pistons his way to his climax, emitting a loud roar as he slams into me, smacking my rump with his pelvis. Amidst the hundreds of pulses going through me, I feel him throb inside of me.

He kisses me between my shoulder blades before pulling out.

“Thank you, Sir,” I murmur.

He helps me to my feet. We fix our clothes. I ask for tissue to wipe myself and wish I had asked him to remove my panties earlier.

“I’d like to change before we meet with Alessandro,” I say.

He nods and walks me to my room. We’re silent most of the way.

Searching for something to say, I land on, “Thank you for the...”

Wait. Why am I thanking the man who held me captive? At least he treated me well, I guess.

“Meals and clothes,” I finish. “And the roses.”

“They’re all yours to take with you,” he says.

I shake my head. “I couldn’t—”

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