Devan’s idly stroking his cock when I walk back into the room. His mouth turns down when he sees me. “Is this your idea of a joke?”
“What?” I make a show of looking down at myself. “Is something wrong?”
“Get over here.”
I walk to him, loving the way he drinks in the sight of me, his hand moving faster on his cock. Yeah, he likes what he sees, all right. He shakes his head. “Hands on the desk.”
I move quickly to do as he commands, though I bend over a little more than strictly necessary, biting back a smile at his curse. “Are you sure nothing’s wrong, Devan?”
“I ought to paddle your ass for showing up here in that little cock-tease of a skirt,” he mutters. He doesn’t give me time to brace. He simply pulls me back onto his lap and then his cock is there, shoving deep so fast that I cry out.
“None of that. You knew this would happen the second you waltzed in here in that skirt.” Devan plants a hand over my mouth even as he pulls me the rest of the way down his length. “You have to be quiet, birthday girl. They can’t know I’m balls deep in this tight little pussy. It might give someone the wrong idea.” His hand flexes against my mouth. “Can you be quiet?”
I nod, even though I’m not entirely sure. We’re not in an office, but I can picture it so clearly. Can pretend we’re not alone, that no one is supposed to know we’re fucking while he’s at work. “I can be quiet,” I whisper.
“We’ll see.”
“Why are you so mad?” I’m not fighting to keep a smile from my face now. I’m too focused on not moaning at the feel of him inside me. “I did what you asked.”
“No, you didn’t. I asked you to come in here dressed like a good girl.” Devan spins the chair, facing the large mirror. “Do you look like a good girl right now?”
Not even a little bit. My shirt clearly shows my nipples and my skirt barely covers my pussy. “Yes?”
“No.” He cups my breasts in rough hands, plucking at my nipples through my shirt. “Keep your legs closed, little slut. Don’t want anyone to see up your skirt.”
I press them close together, and we both pause as it makes me clench tighter around his cock. “Devan,” I gasp.
“Hush. You promised you’d be quiet.” He keeps playing with my breasts. If not for the color high in his cheeks and his hard cock inside me, I’d think he’s just as unaffected as his expression claims.
“I’m trying.” I squirm on his lap, squirm around his cock. It feels so good, I keep doing it. “I missed you so much. I thought I could hold out until my next birthday, but I needed you.” True, true, true. Except it’s present tense. I need him. I’m in over my head and sinking fast. Every fantasy only blurs the lines a little more, only drags me down deeper.
“You’re about to get me fired,” he mutters as he unbuttons my top and yanks it open. Devan turns the chair back to the desk. “Pussy too good to resist.” He lifts me off him, spins me around, and all but shoves me back onto the desk. And then his mouth is there, eating me out messily as I cling to the desk and try to be quiet.
“Don’t stop,” I moan.
He doesn’t. He keeps licking and sucking until I come. And I’m not quiet when I do. Devan lifts his head and glares. “You’re so goddamned disobedient.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” He stands and then he’s feeding his cock into me. This time, there’s no playing around, no teasing. He fucks me roughly, one pounding stroke after another, planting a hand on my hip and shoulder to hold me in place.
I love every second of it.
It feels dirty in an entirely different way than everything else we’ve done so far. He made me orgasm and now he’s using my body for his own pleasure. Devan’s strokes lose their smooth rhythm and he curses, and then he’s coming, fucking me even harder as he finishes inside me. He moves his hands to the desk and drops his head to my shoulder. “Well, fuck.”
“You keep saying that,” I gasp.
“Can’t help it.” He turns his face to my throat and presses a kiss there. “Too rough?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Good.” He gathers me up and heads into the bedroom. “I think we’ve both earned a nap before the next round.”
I smile against his shoulder. I’m delightfully sore, and I know if I start thinking too hard about how few hours we have left, I might freak out a little bit, but I’m not going to turn down being close to him for a little bit. “Did I wear you out, old man?”
Devan snorts. “More like you’re going to be sporting an array of aches and pains tomorrow and I’m trying to alleviate some of them.”
Tomorrow.
When this is over.
Damn it.
As he strips us out of our remaining clothing, I can’t help the sinking sensation of seconds ticking away, slipping through my fingers no matter how hard I try to grasp them. Devan climbs into the bed and I join him, pressing hard against his body. He wraps his arms around me and it feels so perfect, I have the horrible feeling like I might cry.
I wish it wasn’t perfect.
I wish he balked at something I suggested, or talked down to me, or was actually an asshole, or anything that
