Page 25 of Hitched to My Enemy
"Easton," she panted, her internal muscles clenching around my fingers. "I'm going to—"
I intensified my efforts, wanting to witness her surrender. When her release came, it was with my name on her lips, her body arching in a perfect curve of pleasure.
Before she'd fully recovered, I stood and positioned myself at her entrance. Her eyes opened, meeting mine with startling intimacy as she reached up to cup my face.
"I want you," she whispered, no trace of her professional persona remaining. "Now."
I pushed forward slowly, watching her expression as I entered her inch by inch. The tight heat of her body gripping me was nearly overwhelming, and I had to pause once fully seated, my forehead pressed against hers as I fought for control.
"This changes everything," she whispered, vulnerability and desire mingling in her gaze.
"Good," I replied, brushing my lips against hers. "I want it to change everything."
I began to move with deliberate strokes, watching her response to find the angle and rhythm that made her breath catch. When I found it, her nails dug into my shoulders, her hips rising to meet each thrust.
"Harder," she demanded, surprising me with her boldness.
I complied, driving into her with increasing force as the polished wood of my desk creaked beneath us. Her secondclimax built visibly—in the flush spreading across her chest, the tension in her thighs, the gasping breaths she couldn't control.
"Look at me," I commanded as I felt her approaching the edge again. "I want to see you."
Her eyes locked with mine as she shattered, her inner muscles pulsing around me in waves that threatened to pull me over with her. I held off through sheer determination, wanting to prolong her pleasure.
When her tremors subsided, I withdrew despite her murmur of protest. "Turn over," I whispered, helping her to stand on shaky legs.
She complied, bending over the desk with her palms flat against the wood, looking back at me with an expression of such raw desire that my cock twitched in anticipation. I positioned myself behind her, running my hands over the perfect curve of her ass before gripping her hips and entering her again in one long stroke.
This new angle allowed me to go deeper, and her moan of pleasure confirmed the intensity of the sensation. I established a steady rhythm, one hand sliding around to find the sensitive bud between her legs. Her response was immediate, pushing back against me to take me deeper.
"You feel incredible," I growled, watching the point where our bodies joined. The sight of myself disappearing into her was almost too much to bear.
"Don't stop," she gasped as my fingers worked in time with my thrusts. "Oh god, Easton, I'm going to come again."
Her words pushed me closer to my own release, but I was determined to feel her come around me once more before I surrendered. When she cried out, her body clenching around me in rhythmic pulses, I finally let go. My climax hit with stunningforce, pleasure radiating through every cell as I emptied myself inside her with a hoarse shout of her name.
For several moments, we remained joined, both of us breathing hard as aftershocks of pleasure rippled through our connected bodies. Eventually, I withdrew gently, turning her to face me. The vulnerability in her expression—a Harlow I'd never seen before—made my chest tighten with emotions I wasn't ready to name.
I pulled her against me, her head resting on my chest as our heartbeats gradually slowed. There was something unexpectedly tender about holding her this way, more intimate somehow than the passion we'd just shared.
Eventually, awareness returned. We were in my office, surrounded by scattered financial reports and discarded clothing, having just crossed a line that could never be uncrossed. Yet instead of regret, I felt a strange sense of rightness, as if we'd been moving toward this moment since our paths first crossed.
Harlow stirred in my arms, her expression unreadable as she straightened. I braced for professional panic, for the inevitable retreat behind regulations and propriety.
Instead, she smiled—a genuine smile that transformed her face and sent my heart racing all over again. "Well," she said, her voice husky from our activities, "I guess we finally found a way to work together effectively."
The unexpected humor broke any potential tension. I laughed, pulling her against me for another kiss. "Extremely effectively, I'd say."
She traced patterns on my chest, her professional focus temporarily abandoned. "I should feel guilty about this."
"But you don't?" I asked, searching her face.
"Strangely, no." She looked almost surprised by her own admission. "It feels like crossing a line I didn't even realize I'd been approaching for days."
I brushed back her tousled hair, marveling at how different she looked with her careful composure undone. "So where does this leave us? Still just an accidental marriage we're planning to dissolve at the first opportunity?"
Something flickered in her eyes—uncertainty, possibility, perhaps both. "I don't know. This complicates things even further."
"Life is complicated," I pointed out, dropping a kiss on her bare shoulder. "Especially in Vegas."
