Seconds later, he buried his face between my legs, his pretty mouth going directly for my clit and sucking as his hands stayed busy inside of me.
I didn’t last ten seconds before he had me crying out in release, a hand burying itself in his silky hair. I clenched tightly around those skillful fingers.
He pulled them out slowly, standing. He sucked on his fingers and I writhed under his stare. His hands moved down to the waist of his pants. I watched with hungry eyes as he released his hard, heavy erection from its confines.
He bent down and kissed me, an open-mouthed, hot kiss where I tasted myself on his mouth. I sucked on his tongue.
He straightened abruptly, gripping one of my nearly limp legs, bringing my ankle up to his shoulder. He arranged my other leg on his other shoulder. He kissed the inside of my ankle, and drove into me.
His turquoise eyes were intense on mine as he moved inside of me. Those eyes were so tarnished. It made them impossibly more beautiful to me.
That angle, with my hips on the very edge of the desk, and my legs pushed so high, felt so deep and intense that he was pushing me over the edge and into another orgasm with a few hard strokes.
“Come,” he ordered through gritted teeth.
I fell apart.
He didn’t let up as my inner muscles spasmed around him, didn’t even slow down. He leaned down hard, pushing my legs nearly flush with my torso. His eyes were close to angry on mine, our foreheads almost touching, as he rasped, “I’m going to make you come so many times that you forget all of the ways that you can find to doubt us.”
And he did. He hammered away at me, pressing the hot spots on my body with consummate skill. I wasn’t sure I could form a coherent thought when he finally allowed himself to empty inside of me. I certainly couldn’t think well enough to count my own orgasms. He twisted his hips viciously right at the end, making me come again despite the fact that I was beyond sated.
I couldn’t even lift an arm as he pulled out of me slowly.
“Go to sleep, Love. I’ll tell the guys that we’ll have a late dinner. You need to rest a bit.” As he spoke, he was lowering my legs, and then shifting me into his arms. I was asleep before he could carry me back into the bedroom.
When I woke again, James was in the same position he’d been in the last time. He was at his desk, a phone to his ear. He swiveled his chair as I stepped tentatively into his office. He smiled wickedly as he studied me. It was his Dom smile. Mercurial man.
He covered the mouthpiece of his phone. “Drop the sheet and come here,” he ordered, his tone, oh so casual.
I obeyed, feeling surreal as the scene before my second nap seemed to be playing itself out again.
He covered his phone again. “Get on your knees and suck me off,” he ordered casually.
I lowered myself, licking my lips as I watched him. It was as though he’d read my mind. When I’d seen him sitting there, sprawled out like an insolent king on his throne, this was exactly what I’d wanted to do to him.
I freed him from his slacks with greedy hands. I gripped both hands around that perfect cock, stroking.
He plunged his free hand in my hair tightly, pulling me to him. He shoved me between his legs, moving his hips to the very edge of his chair. He pushed into my mouth. I opened for him, sucking in his tip with a little moan. He thrust in deep, fucking my mouth so deep that I gagged.
He pulled out, then thrust in again.
I barely noticed when he loudly hung up his phone.
“Relax your throat muscles,” he told me. “Take me deeper.” I took a little more of him that time.
“Use your hands,” he ordered, and I twisted my hands around his base as I sucked him in as deep as I could manage, bobbing my head furiously.
He gripped both hands in my hair, guiding me with hard tugs. He made the loveliest sound in his throat as he poured into me, jerking his hips. I loved it, making my own little sounds as I continued to suck even after he came. He had to tug me away rather firmly. He gave me the warmest look for my efforts.
“You love having your mouth fucked, don’t you?” he murmured, stroking my lip.
I hummed in agreement. “I love all of it,” I told him, my voice low.
We showered together in the office’s well-appointed restroom. He washed me with tender hands and lingering caresses, as was his wont.
“Your office isn’t what I expected,” I said as he dried me thoroughly. “It doesn’t have the James touch.”
He kissed a hip as he dried my legs. “It was my father’s office, as well. I could never bring myself to change any of it.”
I stroked a hand through his wet hair. My sentimental James.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that the bedroom had a closet, or that that closet had clothing for me. James seemed more interested in finding clothes for me than in dressing himself as he perused the large rack of women’s clothing that took up exactly one half of the closet. He was mostly dry, though some of that golden skin was still deliciously damp. He had a towel slung low across his hips. It made it hard to focus on what I was supposed to be doing; to even remember that I was trying to do anything but watch him with hungry eyes.
James pulled a pale gray sheath dress with a boatneck off the rack. “This,” he said.
I rolled my eyes at him. “And do I get to pick out your clothes?”
He waved a hand at his side of the closet, still rifling through my rack of clothes. “As you wish, Buttercup,” he said, moving to a display of belts set against a large dresser at the back of the closet.