His other hand fists in my damp hair, but he doesn’t pull—he just holds, anchoring, his chest rising fast, nostrils flaring like he’sbarelyholding on.
And me?
I don't look away for a second.
I want him toseethis. To know exactly what he does to me. To feel just how badly I want to wreck him.
My hands following the motion of my mouth, creating a rhythm. His lips part. His jaw clenches. Sweat beads at his temple, as I pull him back sucking deep, then sliding down again, letting him watch the way I take every inch of him like he’s mine to devour.
I’ve never felt anything like this—raw and sacred and primal all at once.
“Fuuuck,” he breathes when I hollow my cheeks, sink lower. He groans, a deep, guttural sound that goes straight to my core. I shift, trying to relieve the ache building inside me, but I’m too far gone now. All I can do is focus on the way he tastes, the way he sounds, the way he’sbarelyholding on.
His head drops back, jaw clenched, chest rising hard and fast. “Mia…” It’s a warning. Or maybe a plea. But I don’t stop. I don’t want to. Because this? This is how I make him feel what he does to me. This is mine—his groans, the tension rippling through his body, the heat in his eyes when he finally dares to look down at me again.
“Mia, baby…fuuuuck,” he growls, breath hissing through his teeth.
In one swift motion, with a sharp breath, he grips my arms and hauls me to my feet like he’s reached his breaking point. His mouth crashes onto mine, tasting himself on my tongue, devouring me with a hunger that sets fire to my bones.
“You think you’re in control, darlin’?” he growls against my mouth, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
“Think again.”
He hooks his fingers under my swimsuit and drag the straps down my shoulders, slow and steady till my swimsuit drops to the floor with a thud and I’m standing naked in his study.
Dropping a kiss just below my ear he drags his tongue all the way down my body stopping at my breasts, taking in one pebbling nipple into his mouth, flicking, sucking and teasing it with his tongue, whilst stroking his thumb over my other nipple. My head rolls back on my shoulders and a deep sound leaving my throat.
“Grant.” I breathe out.
He releases my nipple and traces his tongue further down, kneeling before me until his tongue is all the way to the apex of my thighs, pulling me open with his thumbs as he drags his tongue through my wet pussy once, twice. “Fuck I love the taste of your sweet pussy.” He says against my skin and I let out a deep all consuming moan.
“I need you,” I whisper, barely recognizing my own voice.
“I know,” he says roughly. “I feel it too baby.”
Without saying another word, he spins me around and bends me over the desk, not caring that his paperwork skitters to the floor. I brace myself on my forearms, heart pounding, breath ragged.
His hands slide up the backs of my thighs, slow and possessive. I feel him behind me, hard and ready, his body pressed along mine like he’s trying to fuse us together.
He leans over, his chest to my back, lips brushing my ear. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
I shake my head, desperate. “Not enough.”
His growl is pure gravel as he slides his hand between us, teasing my clit with slow, maddening pressure. My hips buck, a needy sound escaping me.
“You’re soaked,” he says, low and reverent. “Did all that teasing get you this worked up, Mia?”
I can’t even form words—I just nod, eyes fluttering shut, but he reaches forward and cups my chin, turning my face so he can see me.
“No,” he murmurs. “Eyes on me.”
And when I do—when I lock eyes with him over my shoulder—everything else falls away. There’s no desk. No room. Just this overwhelming need that crackles like a live wire between us.
“I’m not letting you forget what you mean to me,” he says. “Not after this.”
He slides his hand to the front of me and slips two fingers into my slick heat that’s waiting just for him. My body jolts, eyes going wide with a gasp. The friction of his fingers is exquisite. His touch is confident, knowing. Like he’s learned the language of my body in whispers and mapped every reaction in the dark. And now, he’s reading it back to me, one stroke at a time.
I brace myself on the desk, palms splayed, trying to breathe through the fire building under my skin. His other hand wraps around my waist, anchoring me to him, steadying me against the tremble in my legs. I don’t have the words for what’s happening. I just feel—him, us, this storm of heat and reverence and the maddening ache that only he can soothe.
