Page 59 of Wrong Number. Right Don.
NICOLE
Igasp into the kiss when his hips press between my thighs. Papers crinkle beneath me, but I don’t care. His need presses against me hot, hard, and undeniable, matching my desire in every desperate pulse.
“You don’t play fair,” he murmurs against my neck, nipping at the sensitive spot until I shudder.
“Neither do you,” I whisper, arching my back as my hips slide against his, desperate for as much friction as I can possibly get.
This isn’t why I came in here, not really, but I shouldn’t be surprised we ended up like this. After what happened at the café, I came in with every intention of telling him about the baby. I’d prepared a whole speech and was ready to face whatever consequences followed.
But he looked so tense, so agitated, and all I wanted was to melt that tension away. So, of course, we landed right here. We always end up like this. My body is drawn to his like a magnet. He knows every button to push, every stroke that leaves me gasping and screaming his name.
His hands trail down my sides, firm and demanding, and when they slide underneath the hem of my skirt, I moan. My head tips back as he kisses down the column of my throat, his fingers teasing the seam of my panties, not quite touching where I need him most.
“You want this?” he asks, voice ragged with restraint.
“God, yes,” I whisper, gripping the front of his shirt to keep from flying apart. “Please.”
His mouth crushes mine again as he drags my panties down my legs and tosses them aside. My dress follows, buttons popping beneath his eager fingers. In seconds I’m bare beneath him, gasping as cool air skates over my heated skin.
Sergei leans back just far enough to meet my eyes. His pupils are blown wide, and his jaw tight. He wants me as fiercely as I want him or maybe even more. He makes me feel worthy of worship, and sometimes I even believe it.
“You’re perfect,” he growls before dropping to his knees, staring up at me with unbridled hunger.
My breath catches as he pulls me to the desk’s edge.
“Sergei,” I manage, though it’s hardly a protest.
“I’m starving, Nicole,” he says, mischief threading his tone. “And you look like the perfect snack.”
I nod, too breathless to answer. He drags his hands up the insides of my thighs slow and methodical, savoring every inch. My body trembles at his touch, my stomach clenching with anticipation. And then his tongue darts inside me, and I lose all conscious thought.
My hands fly to the desk’s edge as he licks and sucks with slow and devastatingly precision. When I glance down, his eyes lock on mine—hungry, dark, and possessive. His hands wrap around my waist, cupping my ass as he continues his ministrations.
“Sergei,” I moan, my head falling back. “Oh, my God!”
His tongue swirls inside me, his lips sucking at my clit, a sensation so intense it makes me feel like I’m levitating. With every gasp and moan, it’s like he’s learning, memorizing exactly where to touch and with how much pressure. Soon, I’m a writhing, screaming mess as he tongue-fucks me into oblivion.
I’m still trembling when he stands and wipes his mouth. He cups my face, eyes smug and ravenous.
“You’re so fucking beautiful when you come,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over mine. “Every single time.”
I lean into his kiss, taste myself on his tongue, and let the rest of the world fall away. I hook my legs around his waist, pinning his hard length to my center as desire ignites all over again.
“Fuck,” he groans, grinding against me. “I need you so badly.”
“I’m yours,” I whisper against his skin as I undo the buttons on his shirt.
He helps, shucking his pants and sending them across the room. We’re both breathless and needy, our bodies slick against each other. It seems impossible to crave him this much after he’s just sent me over the edge, yet I ache to feel him inside me again.
I unwrap my legs and push him back, sliding off the desk. At first, he looks confused, almost disappointed, until I spin, guide his hands to my waist, and press my ass to his erection.
“You did say you wanted to bend me over this desk,” I rasp.
Without a word, he folds me forward until my chest meets the cool mahogany. I steal a breath before he spreads my legs and sinks into me from behind.
The position is so damn good I have to grip the far edge of the desk just to stay grounded. I’m already close, my walls clenching so hard around him I doubt either of us will last long.
He pounds into me with such wild abandon that items slide off the desk. After that, I notice nothing, lost to pure sensation. He fills me, driving so deep I can barely remember my own name. There’s only him, his hands digging into my hips, words tumbling from his lips like a prayer.
