eyebrow.
“I’ve never had a sub make me want to simultaneously punish
her and devour her quite like you.” He sighs as if this is the most pressing
issue in his life right now. I highly doubt it is. “I think I’m going to have
to do both. Climb onto my desk.”
I lean against his polished desk, carefully displacing his
pewter clock, his cup of silver bullet pens, and moving his phone out of the
way. Dane blows an impatient breath past his lips and lowers himself though
he’s certainly not on his knees.
“Exquisite. Really.” His final words send a thrill up and
down my spine seconds before his tongue glides into my most tender parts,
swirling and licking, owning me deeper and harder with each flick.
I look for something to grab, something to ground me, but
there’s nothing but cool, smooth wood and a fourteen karat gold stapler. His
tongue abandons me for a moment, skimming my thighs before returning.
Tease .
“Are you enjoying yourself, Angel?” he asks.
I want to tell him not to stop, to keep going. I was getting
close. But I can’t say any of that because he’s in control. Even if I wanted to
come right now, it isn’t allowed.
My arousal begins to mix with anger, and without warning
Cortland’s face flashes in my mind.
No!!
His hands press my legs apart wider, and his face between my
thighs and that thing he’s doing with his tongue and the circles makes my body
fearful of moving for fear it all might end.
I love this.
But I also hate that being objectified and controlled, the
very thing I’m fleeing from at home gets me so hot and bothered I can hardly
stand it.
“You can come now,” he says, blowing hot breath on my
swollen sex before returning to devour me a final moment.
But it’s too late.
I’ve lost it.
The build up threatened to leave the second I realized I
wasn’t allowed to come without his permission, and it packed its bags the
second I saw Cortland’s face and started thinking about everything else.
What do I do ?!
I draw in a full breath and do what any other woman would do
in my situation.
I fake it.
“Mm, yes…” I moan softly, pounding my fist against the desktop.
My hips buck and writhe, and he gives my clit a final suck before my movements
settle and stop. I have no idea how long a typical orgasms
lasts . I’ve never timed myself, so I just do what feels natural.
My eyes search his when he comes up for air, and I
immediately love the fact that he doesn’t wear a dopey smile after getting
some. He’s a man. He’s all man. He can pleasure a woman with dignity and
respect and class, and that’s an art.
“You may clean up now, Angel.” He nods toward the bathroom
before swiping the ground and picking up my crumpled panties.
“Thank you.”
Dane leans over his desk, grabbing the
satin ribbon off the box in which my lingerie was packaged. He winds it up and
shoves it in his desk drawer, a treat for another time I suppose.
I scamper off and change quickly, anxious to ask him what
else I might be doing to occupy my time in the office, but when I emerge he’s
nowhere to be found. His communication leaves much to be desired, but I’m not
exactly in a position to complain.
When I slink back into my office, I’m overwhelmed once again
by the amount of boxes and gifts and bags filling every foot of my space.
There’s a small path in which I can walk, but that’s it. A small coat closet in
the back of my room boasts wooden hangers, and I get to work hanging up my new
wardrobe. There’s no way my parents will let me walk in or out of the house in
any of this stuff. I might be able to sneak a dress in with my purse, but not
the rest of this stuff.
“Chanel.” I examine the tags of a pink blazer and shake my
head, fighting a smile. “He’s out of his mind. Certifiably
insane. Yep.”
I remove tissue paper from a Gucci box and examine the candy
apple red bag that emerges. The hardware is heavy and solid, and the zippers
run smooth.
“Dane,” I
“I’ve never had a sub make me want to simultaneously punish
her and devour her quite like you.” He sighs as if this is the most pressing
issue in his life right now. I highly doubt it is. “I think I’m going to have
to do both. Climb onto my desk.”
I lean against his polished desk, carefully displacing his
pewter clock, his cup of silver bullet pens, and moving his phone out of the
way. Dane blows an impatient breath past his lips and lowers himself though
he’s certainly not on his knees.
“Exquisite. Really.” His final words send a thrill up and
down my spine seconds before his tongue glides into my most tender parts,
swirling and licking, owning me deeper and harder with each flick.
I look for something to grab, something to ground me, but
there’s nothing but cool, smooth wood and a fourteen karat gold stapler. His
tongue abandons me for a moment, skimming my thighs before returning.
Tease .
“Are you enjoying yourself, Angel?” he asks.
I want to tell him not to stop, to keep going. I was getting
close. But I can’t say any of that because he’s in control. Even if I wanted to
come right now, it isn’t allowed.
My arousal begins to mix with anger, and without warning
Cortland’s face flashes in my mind.
No!!
His hands press my legs apart wider, and his face between my
thighs and that thing he’s doing with his tongue and the circles makes my body
fearful of moving for fear it all might end.
I love this.
But I also hate that being objectified and controlled, the
very thing I’m fleeing from at home gets me so hot and bothered I can hardly
stand it.
“You can come now,” he says, blowing hot breath on my
swollen sex before returning to devour me a final moment.
But it’s too late.
I’ve lost it.
The build up threatened to leave the second I realized I
wasn’t allowed to come without his permission, and it packed its bags the
second I saw Cortland’s face and started thinking about everything else.
What do I do ?!
I draw in a full breath and do what any other woman would do
in my situation.
I fake it.
“Mm, yes…” I moan softly, pounding my fist against the desktop.
My hips buck and writhe, and he gives my clit a final suck before my movements
settle and stop. I have no idea how long a typical orgasms
lasts . I’ve never timed myself, so I just do what feels natural.
My eyes search his when he comes up for air, and I
immediately love the fact that he doesn’t wear a dopey smile after getting
some. He’s a man. He’s all man. He can pleasure a woman with dignity and
respect and class, and that’s an art.
“You may clean up now, Angel.” He nods toward the bathroom
before swiping the ground and picking up my crumpled panties.
“Thank you.”
Dane leans over his desk, grabbing the
satin ribbon off the box in which my lingerie was packaged. He winds it up and
shoves it in his desk drawer, a treat for another time I suppose.
I scamper off and change quickly, anxious to ask him what
else I might be doing to occupy my time in the office, but when I emerge he’s
nowhere to be found. His communication leaves much to be desired, but I’m not
exactly in a position to complain.
When I slink back into my office, I’m overwhelmed once again
by the amount of boxes and gifts and bags filling every foot of my space.
There’s a small path in which I can walk, but that’s it. A small coat closet in
the back of my room boasts wooden hangers, and I get to work hanging up my new
wardrobe. There’s no way my parents will let me walk in or out of the house in
any of this stuff. I might be able to sneak a dress in with my purse, but not
the rest of this stuff.
“Chanel.” I examine the tags of a pink blazer and shake my
head, fighting a smile. “He’s out of his mind. Certifiably
insane. Yep.”
I remove tissue paper from a Gucci box and examine the candy
apple red bag that emerges. The hardware is heavy and solid, and the zippers
run smooth.
“Dane,” I
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