CHAPTER 80
CHAPTER 80
She’s still gripping my shirt like I’m her anchor but one hand slides down the plain of my stomach and dips beneath my pants.
Her small hand squeezes around my throbbing cock, strokes me and I almost die on the spot.
Summoning every ounce of willpower, I keep my touch tender as I cup her jaw, brushing her flushed cheek. “Are you sure, baby?”
She nods, pink-cheeked. “Yes. I want you, Roger.” She emphasizes with another squeeze along my dick and it jumps in response to her.
God help me.
I lift her gently, her thighs around my waist, and set her on the edge of the desk.
Her breath catches when I step between her legs.
She opens for me, palms braced behind her, gaze locked on mine—so open it ruins me.
I lose my shirt.
She smirks, raises her arms, and I pull off her crop top. Her bra follows, and my mouth finds her nipples—licking, sucking, pinching.
I reach into my pocket.
Condom in hand, I tear it open as I unzip my pants.
She arches a brow, eyes flicking down, then back up with a smirk. “You always carry those in your pocket?”
I lean in, gripping my cock. “When I’m with you?” My voice drops. “Always.”
Her eyes drop to my cock and widen.
“Oh. Em. Gee,” she breathes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I don’t even try to hide my grin.
“Don’t be scared of it,” I murmur, stroking myself, teasing her entrance.
She shoots me a look—equal parts awe and panic. “Scared? No. Skeptical? Yes. That weapon of mass destruction won’t fit anywhere respectable. How do you even walk?”
I chuckle, kiss her jaw. “Strategic pants.”
She’s still staring, lip caught between her teeth.
I lower my mouth to hers, tongue brushing the seam, asking instead of taking.
She opens for me.
God, she opens.
“Let me make you feel good, Lollipop,” I whisper. “Let me show you.”
“Yeah,” Her thighs tighten around my hips as she nods.
I line myself up and ease in—inch by inch, watching her.
She gasps, hands flying to my shoulders.
“It’s okay,” I breathe. “You’re doing perfect.”
She grips me tight—hot, wet heaven. I groan, pushing deeper.
“Fuck,” I pant. “You feel like sin.”
She whimpers, nails biting into my skin. “Roger?—”
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, cupping her jaw as I bury myself. “So good, baby.”
I hold still, letting her adjust, watching her soften, her breath catch.
Then we move.
A slow, grinding rhythm—deep, deliberate—until we’re gasping, spiraling.
I shift angle—she cries out, arching.
Her eyes flash down. “Wait—what is that?”
I smirk, roll my hips so the pubic piercing drags her clit.
Her mouth falls open.
“It’s for grinding,” I say, voice low.
And then I do just that.
Her head falls back. “Holy mother of pearl.”
I grind harder, watching every moan, every shiver.
She’s close—I feel it.
“Let go,” I whisper, my thumb brushing her jaw, cock driving into her. “Come on, Lollipop. Let me feel you break.”
She clenches around me, eyes locking on mine as she falls.
Trembling. Gasping.
Fucking beautiful.
“That’s it,” I growl. “That’s my girl.”
Her orgasm tears through her—and I don’t look away.
Don’t let go.
Because she’s it. Everything I want.
I set her on trembling legs, turn her around, bend her over the desk.
“Hold the desk,” I rasp. “Don’t let go.”
Her fingers curl around the edge like it’s all that’s keeping her grounded.
I step behind her, slide a hand between her thighs, line up.
Looking over her shoulder, eyes wide, she’s every wet dream I’ve ever had.
One hard thrust—and I sink to the hilt.
She arches, gasping, body shuddering.
I slap a hand over her mouth, grip her hip, and fuck her.
No mercy.
Just thick, filthy thrusts that make the desk creak.
“That’s it,” I growl, my fingers on her clit. “Let me feel it again.”