Page 95 of Twist of Fate
“You look so good like this,” he says. “Think you can be quiet?”
“Yes.”
He bends forward, and I can feel his hard cock through his slacks as he presses against me. “I’m not sure I believe you.” He shifts, and a second later, he’s shoving something into my mouth. His tie.
Holy hell.
My heart starts to race as I hear the sound of his belt buckle and zipper. By the time his hand slips between my legs and slides the tiny scrap of fabric to the side, I’m nearly panting.
God, I’ve never had sex like this before.
The all-consuming kind. The I-don’t-care-if-someone-catches-us kind of sex.
That is what it is like with Finn.
Every. Single. Time.
There is no foreplay or warm-up and really, there is no need. I am so wet and ready for him. This is the definition of an office quickie, and fuck; it’s just as hot as every romance book promised me it would be. He slams into me, and thank God for the tie because I let out a noise that is something between a squeal and a moan. His hands dig into my waist as he pistons his hips, driving himself into me, over and over. The real world melts away, and soon, it’s just me and him and this driving need for pleasure.
“Touch yourself, Ash. Make yourself come.” His voice is deep and full of command.
I feel my cheeks flush. Embarrassment, really? This man has me bent over a desk in the middle of the workday, and I’m suddenly getting self-conscious over this.
Come on, Ash. Time to put your big girl panties on.
Or take them off? Whatever.
The moment I slip my hands between my legs, I feel his movement slow, like he’s truly mesmerized by what I’m doing. It’s all the motivation I need. I let out a low moan the second my fingers touch my clit.
“How many times have you touched yourself thinking about me?” he asks. My pace quickens, emboldened by his words. “How many, Ash?”
“Too many to count,” I try to say around the tie.
It comes out garbled, but he must understand because he leans forward, his palm skating under the fabric of my shirt as he whispers in my ear. “Show me.”
If I weren’t already close, those words would have gotten me there. I explode, my body convulsing as waves of never-ending pleasure make my vision go blurry. My core pulses, gripping his cock like a vise, and he lets out a strangled curse.
“So fucking tight,” he says in a hushed voice as he hauls me off the desk so my back is flush against his chest. He takes a step back until we collapse into the chair behind him. I’m now in his lap, and he doesn’t miss a beat, snaking his hands under my top to grab my breasts as I roll my hips.
“Yes,” he groans. “God, yes. Just like that.”
Our office quickie is turning out to be not so quick. But then again, sex with Finn never is. He tweaks my nipple between the lacy fabric of my bra. His tie is seriously ruined now from stifling all my moans. I doubt he gives two fucks.
Especially when he pushes me forward and says, “Hold on.” He then wraps his hands around my waist like that’s the last of his control. The office sounds like sex. Heavy breath and pounding flesh. It takes every ounce of control I have left to not scream like a banshee.
For this alone, I think I deserve an award.
Or at least a cookie.
Because, oh my god, the way his body mercilessly pounds into me is like nothing I’ve ever felt. He grips my waist, bouncing me up and down on his cock, while his hips thrust upward. Our bodies slam together in the most delicious way, hitting all the best spots, and soon, I’m coming. Again.
This time, I do scream a little.
But Finn knows me by now because his hand comes around to cover my mouth just in time, stifling whatever his tie cannot.
His head falls onto my curved spine a moment later, and he lets out a quieter version of what I’ve come to know as his “come groan”—which, yes, is sexy as fuck. He pulls me back onto his chest and removes the tie. Dropping it on the floor, Finn turns my head and kisses me long and slow as his arms snake around my waist.
“Sorry for ruining your tie.”
