Page 67 of The Burdens We Share
And who am I to disobey? My walls tighten around his thick length as I reach my orgasm. He fucks me through it and when it finally settles and my limbs feel like jelly, he uses bothhands to spread my thighs apart and grips my waist, lifting me effortlessly off the desk and into his lap as he sits in his chair. I land straddling him, his cock never leaving my heat and breaking our carnal connection.
He holds my waist in place as he pounds into me from below. My fingers find their way to his biceps, my nails sinking into his skin and no doubt leaving marks. “My beautiful girl,” he moans as he kisses the line of my neck.
I already feel a third orgasm blooming inside of me and he starts to slow his pace, trying to draw out both of our pleasures as much as possible. I lean down and connect my lips to his, kissing him like my entire life depends on it. I’m overwhelmed with an emotion I’ve never felt in this capacity before and I’m dangerously close to saying three little words that could change a lot of things for us both.
I start to grind on his cock, no longer letting him do all of the work and he breaks the kiss for a second to ask, “How’s this for making it up to you?” He has a cocky smirk on his face and I can’t even find it in me to fire back with a witty retort.
“Make me come again and we’ll see,” I grin as I kiss the stubble on his jaw.
His thrusts slow and my movements start to slow as I feel another orgasm rushing back to the surface. This time, when my walls tighten and I come around his cock, he comes with me, his arms wrapped around me, hugging me to his chest like he never wants to let go.
We remain connected for a few moments before he slowly lifts me and slides out of me. He reaches into his top drawer for a napkin and uses it to clean me up before crumbling it and tossing it in the trash. He then reaches for my discarded clothing on the ground and I grab it from him, rising from his lap to dress myself. It’s then that I realize he never fully stripped. He zips and buttons his trousers and adjusts his dressshirt and suit jacket all while I manage to get my top back on. I freeze when it comes time to put my jeans back on and frown at him, “Seriously?”
“What?”
I roll my eyes, “Did you have to rip my panties? I have jeans.”
He chuckles, “I’m not going to apologize.”
I stifle a laugh as I put my jeans back on, “Remind me to keep extra pairs of panties in that drawer with my file in case this happens again.”
“You meanwhenthis happens again,” he corrects.
I roll my eyes again as I pull my jeans up the rest of the way, zipping them up and buttoning them. He reaches for my hand and pulls me into his lap, kissing me again before he asserts, “Spend the night with me.”
I nod as I find his lips with mine.
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“I CAN NOT BELIEVEI’m putting up with this right now,” Dallas complains, his voice coming out a grumble from where he lays beneath me.
I look up, lifting my head from its very comfortable position on his chest, and frown at him, “Dallas, this is TV gold.”
He gives me a disbelieving look that says,You’re delusionaland makes no comment. They learn so fast.
We’re cuddled up in his obscenely comfortable bed watching a reality TV show about female professional wrestlers and all of their petty dramas and third-world issues. In case I ever have to wonder how I know this man cares about me, I’ll remind myself of this moment because I know for a fact that Dallas Carter would rather be at war than watching this, but he’s watching it formebecauseIwanted to watch it.
Two of the girls start arguing about who’s getting more TV time when he sighs, “I don’t like that one.”
“Which one?” I ask.
“The one with the red hair. She’s very agitating,” he explains.
“How so?” I press him. Truthfully, I’m not a fan of her either, but I want to hear his opinion.
He continues, “She’s trying to take TV time from the blonde and steal the whole show when they’re a tag team. They’re both supposed to get equal TV time. And wait till the blonde finds out that she’s been going behind her back and training with the best wrestlers to get better moves than her.”
As soon as he finishes his explanation, I start hysterically laughing, curling away from his chest and laughing with my back to him. A small chuckle escapes him, “What, am I wrong?”
I can’t stop laughing, “No,” I choke out through tears of laughter.
He reaches for me, curling his arm around my torso and pulling me closer, “What’s funny?” He asks, amusement in his voice.
I roll onto my back so I can look at his face as I laugh my ass off, “You’re so invested.”
“I am not,” he argues.
“You so are,” I chuckle. He tries his best to keep a straight face, but it doesn’t work for him. “And you’re smiling because you know it.”
