Boss in the Bedsheets - Kate Canterbary Page 0,66

keys and secured his phone in its charging station. Completely civilized.

Then his hand was on the back of my neck and my body was flat against his and I could taste the way he wanted me. It was a smoky heat, almost bitter, like he'd burned for me all this time and could only now show me the charred truth.

I liked that. Probably too much. And I liked the way he'd reached for me like I was his to take as aggressively, as imperiously, as unapologetically as he wanted. There was a violence to it, one I felt in a desperate, sacrificial sense. I wanted to be taken. Stolen away from the polite domesticity of phone charging and shoe removal, and stripped down to our most basic, elemental pieces—the ones that seemed to fit together without us knowing how or why.

"We can't do this tomorrow," I whispered to his lips.

"What's tomorrow and why the hell not?" he asked, gathering my shirt in his fist as he took my mouth again.

He was going to rip it if he wasn't careful.

I hoped to hell he wasn't careful.

"Tomorrow," I managed between kisses. "Monday. We can't do this at work. Not at your office."

He pulled back from my mouth, his eyes pleated at the corners. "Not at the office."

"It's just—we can't."

That neck grab cemented a few things for me and now I knew there was no way I could do this and work even a tiny bit because I'd want it all day. The almost-torn shirt and the arrogant hand on my neck. No work would be completed in that office, not a minute of it. "We shouldn't. There have to be limits. Ground rules. I won't get rug burns from kneeling under your desk and—"

His lips slammed into mine, biting the words off my tongue. These weren't the kisses we shared in the backyard. These were a narrow belt of electric heaven which offered the merciless savagery necessary to shutting down the loud and anxious parts of my brain. They were the deliverance I'd come in search of.

After he dragged my bottom lip between his teeth, he gripped my shirt tighter, saying, "Show me what that looks like."

"Sh-show you?" I stuttered.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. He blinked at the hardwood floor. "Kneel."

The options weren't kneel or don't kneel. They were give him what he wants or get the hell out—which sounded atrocious when taken outside the context of me very much relishing this. I didn't have a curated set of sexual requirements or conditions to orgasm though I knew without hesitation I wanted Ash precisely as authoritative as he was about everything else.

And maybe I wanted the power that came with relinquishing control to someone who'd earned it from me.

Since I had no intention of running for the hills, I dropped to my knees. Instead of releasing my shirt as I went, Ash yanked it over my head, pitched it to the side. "Much better." He motioned toward his belt and zipper. "Go ahead."

That tone undid me.

The executive too busy to be bothered with unfastening his clothes, freeing his erection, even participating in this—this servicing of his body. No, he had no intention of participating at all. That was the dirty work carried out by dirty mouths and he cared nothing for the heartbeat between my legs.

He threaded his fingers into my hair as I peeled down his shorts and boxers. His shaft bobbed up near his navel, full and ruddy like it couldn't believe it hadn't been put to good use yet. I couldn't stop myself from trailing my nails down his thighs and up again, and watching with delight as he dropped his head back with a groan.

"Enough, enough." Ash curled his fist around his base and swept the head of his cock over my lips. I already knew the scent of him but it was different like this, different in a way that stirred low in my belly. "Get to it. Show me what you'd do under my desk, love."

There was a solid minute of tentative licking as if I hadn't had a popsicle in years but then I curled my tongue around his head as I stroked him. A jagged, rusty Fuuuuuuck gusted out of him. I peered up, grinning as wide as I could manage.

"Just like that," he panted, weaving his fingers through my hair again. "Fuck, Zelda, yes, just like that."

I was out of practice but Ash didn't seem to care. He growled and groaned when

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