Page 99 of Van Cort
“Clearly.”
“Who was it?” She shifts in her seat but sets a grim line of determination on her features. “You’re not going to answer me?” Still no reply.
I stand and watch her keep her eyes fixed on me as I round my desk and lean on it in front of her. “How would you like it if the roles were reversed?”
“I wouldn’t.” My questioning brow should be enough of a clue as to what I expect out of her mouth next. “I’m still not answering, Everett. Much as I like you, I won’t be dictated to like this.” She pushes her chair back away from me, chin high in defiance. “If this is truly going to be as perfect as I hope, I need trust and honesty, and you taking my word as my bond. You wanted compatibility when we were away, and I gave it to you. You wanted to consider something beyond just physical,but this” – she waves her hand at me – “is almost neanderthal behaviour.”
“Neanderthal?”
“Yes.”
A long breath pulls in and out of me in an attempt to stop the Neanderthal she’s suggesting from emerging. It doesn’t work. My dick is already hard, and my patience is wearing thinner by the second. “You wouldn’t believe how close I am to exactly that, but, as I’m not one, I’ll ask again, who were you with?”
This time, she folds her arms as if this is an argument she can win. It isn’t.
Patience and sense decimated, I reach for her arm and yank her up against me.
She puffs out a breath as she lands on my chest.
“Tell me.”
Her head rears back. “No.”
I spin her and reach for the hem of her skirt, hoisting it up at the same time as pushing her over the desk. A rough hand travels up her thigh and widens it, fingers delving straight inside her. She immediately squirms in my hold and tries getting up. It’s too late for niceties.
My hand holds her shoulders firmly down and it roams until it’s on the side of her face to keep her exactly where she is. “It was a really simple fucking question, River.”
“And I’m still not answering it,” she spits back.
Fine.
Shoving my hips to her ass to keep her where I want her, I reach for my belt with my free hand. It gets wrenched loose, and before she’s got a chance to object or speak, I’m lining up to get inside her. One hard push and I’m fully in, less than no care about whether it hurts her, or if she even wants it. She grunts as I pull out and shove back in again, and again, and again, and I watch her fingers claw at the leather on the desk. Panting comesafter that, from both of us, ragged and near crazed. We’re in the middle of something I’ve not been close to as an adult. It’s all need and possession and hard hands that take what they want without asking permission.
My body folds over hers, hand reaching for her wrist, and my teeth bite at the line of her jaw. I’m fucking possessed, infatuated, pissed with her attitude. I don’t stop taking every second of what she’s caused, either. I take, and I devour, and I show her what refusal gets her.
Clothes get stripped from her skin, and mine, and eventually she’s facing me and I’m carrying her to a wall with me still buried inside her. Her face stays turned from me, and I don’t care about that until she finally brings her lips to mine and truly engages in what she instigated. Our teeth clash, and our fingers bite into flesh. Nails shred the skin on my backlike they were doing my desk, and I enjoy it – every fucking second of it. No remorse, no pretence. I even smile when she slaps me out of nowhere and then brings my face back to hers.
More lips, more teeth, more seething anger from both of us, and before long, she’s coming, and I can’t hold myself back from it either. I want to roar out my bliss and hear her let the whole fucking world know what’s just happened. Instead, I smother her mouth as she comes, swallow down my own sound, and attempt to hold my teeth off her neck when I do.
We stay like that for some time, with her clinging onto me and me refusing to pull out of her. Every second that passes cements her to me. Hunger and craving fight their way through me, consuming me, and my tongue roams her skin to keep the taste of her present. This moment, more than any before now, overrides every vision of her perfection I’ve seen of her so far. It gives me what I need for who I truly am beneath this fucking mask. It gives me me again after too fucking long. It gives me honesty. Gives her it, too.
“I’m not sure I consented to that,” she muses.
I lick her neck again. “Hmm.”
“Anyone could have walked in.”
I bring my face up to look at her, a soft grin on my lips. “No one just walks into this office. No one would dare.”
“They wouldn’t, huh?”
“No. Never.”
She drops a leg from around my waist, loosening her grip on my shoulders. “Why not?”
“Because people don’t go against my instruction. And, without my funding, or cooperation, three-quarters of this city doesn’t exist. No one wants to piss off Van Cort.” I look at her staring me down. “Apart from you, it appears.”
“You pissed yourself off, Everett. I reacted to your insecurities.”
