Chapter 3

Tessa

My eyes widened as he pulled me closer to him.

The heat from his hand burned through my arms and into my skin. His hands slowly went to my behind, clutching it tightly, as he pulled my behind closer to his crotch.

Every muscle in my body tensed, and it felt like my insides were liquefying. What the hell was he doing? My brain screamed at me to push his hand off, to tell him to never touch me again, but my body had other ideas. My nipples hardened, and I clenched my jaw in response. Traitor nipples.

While my heart pounded in my chest, at least half a minute passed, and neither of us said anything as his hand moved down to my thigh, caressing.

 Our breathing and the muted noise of the city below were the only sounds in the still air of his office room.

I was still in awe of how the atmosphere between us could have easily changed from stern to arousal when his coarse voice jolted me.

"Turn around, Miss Mills." His voice broke the silence and I straightened my back, eyes facing forward. 

Slowly I turned, his hand skimming across me and sliding to my hip. I could feel the way his hand spread from his fingertips on my lower back all the way to where his thumb pressed against the soft skin just in front of my hip bone. I looked up to meet his eyes, which looked intently back at me.

I could see his chest rising and falling, each breath deeper than the last. A muscle twitched in his sharp jaw as his thumb began to move, slowly sliding back and forth, his eyes never leaving mine.

 He was waiting for me to stop him; there had been plenty of time for me to shove him away, or simply turn and leave. But I had too many feelings to sort out before I could react.

 His firm hands around me jiggled my mind back to last night. I had never felt this way, and I had never expected to feel this way about him, about a stranger. I wanted to slap him, and then pull him up by his shirt and lick his neck.

How could I let my body react like this? I still wanted to slap him for the way he treated me today but now, more than that, I wanted him to keep going. The heavy ache between my legs was building.

He bent down and reached the edge of my panties and slipped his fingers under the fabric. I felt him slide against my skin and graze my clit before pushing his finger inside me, and I bit my lip trying, unsuccessfully, to stifle my groan. When I looked down at him, beads of sweat were forming on his brow.

"Fuck," he growled quietly. "You're wet." His eyes fell closed and he seemed to be waging the same internal battle I was. I glanced down at his lap and could see him straining against the smooth fabric of his pants. 

Without opening his eyes, he withdrew his finger and fisted the thin lace of my panties in his hand. He was shaking as he looked. He pulled my hips roughly, lifting me up onto the cold table and spreading my legs in front of him. 

I gave an involuntary groan as his fingers returned, sliding between my legs and pushing into me again. I despised this man in a singularly sharp way, but my body was betraying me; I craved more of what he was doing, for what I had experienced last night.

Damn if he wasn't good at this. His weren't the gentle loving touches I was accustomed to. Here was a man used to getting what he wanted, and it turned out that right now, what he wanted was me. My head fell to the side as I leaned back on my elbows, feeling my impending orgasm approaching fast.

To my absolute horror I actually whimpered, "Oh, please."

He stopped moving, pulling his fingers back and holding them in a fist before him. I sat up, grabbing his silk tie and pulling his mouth roughly against mine. His lips felt as perfect as they looked, firm and smooth. I'd never been kissed by someone who clearly knew every single angle and dip and teasing move to make me almost completely lose my mind.

I bit his lower lip as my hands made quick work down to the front of his pants, whipping his belt free of the loops. "You better be ready to finish what you started."

He made a low, angry noise deep in his throat and took my blouse in his hands, ripping it open, the silver buttons skittering across his office table.

He slid his hands up my ribs and over my breasts, thumbs slipping back and forth across my taut nipples, his dark stare fixated on my expression the entire time. His hands were big, and rough almost to the point of pain, but instead of wincing or backing off, I pushed into his palms wanting more, and harder.

He growled, fingers tightening. It occurred to me I might bruise, and for a sick moment I hoped I did. I wanted a way to remember this feeling, of being completely sure of what my body wanted, entirely unleashed.

He leaned close enough to bite my shoulder, whispering, "You fucking tease." 

Unable to get close enough, I quickened my pace on his zipper, shoving his pants and his boxers to the floor. I gave his cock a hard squeeze, feeling him pulse against my palm.

The way he hissed my last name-" Mills should have sent a rush of fury through me, but I only felt one thing right now: pure, unadulterated lust. He forced my skirt up my thighs and pushed me back on the office table. 

Before I could utter a single word, he took hold of my ankles, grabbed his cock, and took a step forward, thrusting deep inside me.

I couldn't even be horrified by the loud moan I let out-he felt better than before.

"What's that?" he hissed through clenched teeth, his hips slapping against my thighs, driving him deep inside. "Never been fucked like the way i fuck you, have you? This is what you get for being such a blabbermouth”. 

Who did he think he was? And why the hell did it turn me on, have never had sex anywhere other than bed and it was mostly Damien pleasuring himself rather than my pleasure.

"I've had better," I taunted.

He laughed, a quiet mocking sound. "Look at me."

"No."

He pulled out just as I was about to come. At first I thought he was actually going to leave me this way, until he grabbed my arms and yanked me up off the table, lips and tongue pressing against mine.

"Look at me," he said again. And, finally, with him no longer inside me, I could. He blinked once, slowly, long dark lashes brushing against his cheek, and then said, "Ask me to make you come."

His tone was all wrong. It was almost a question, but his words were just like him-all bastard. I did want him to make me come. More than anything. But I'd be damned if I'd ever give him the satisfaction of seeing me beg.

I dropped my voice and stared back at him. "You're an asshole, Mr. Ryan."

His smile told me that whatever he'd needed from me, he got. I wanted to slam my knees up into his balls, but then I wouldn't get more of what I really wanted.

"Say please, Miss Mills."

"Please, go fuck yourself."

The next thing I felt was the cold window against my breasts, and I groaned at the intense contrast in temperature between it and his skin.

I was on fire; every part of me wanted to feel his rough touch.

"At least you're consistent," he snarled into my ear before biting my shoulder. He kicked at my feet. "Spread your legs."

I parted my legs and without hesitation he pulled my hips back and reached between us before thrusting forward into me.

"You like the cold?"

"Yes."

"Devious, filthy girl. You like being watched, don't you?" he murmured, taking my earlobe between his teeth. 

"You love that all of New York can look up here and see you getting fucked, and you loving every minute of it with your pretty tits pressed against the glass."

"Stop talking, you're ruining it." Though he wasn't. Not even close.

His gravelly voice was doing wicked things to me.

But he just laughed in my ears and probably noticed the way I shivered at the sound. "You want them to see you come?"

I groaned in response, unable to form words with each repeated thrust into me, pressing me further against the glass.

"Say it. You want to come, Miss Mills? Answer me or I'll stop and make you suck me off instead," he hissed, driving himself deeper and deeper inside me with every thrust.

The part of me that hated him was dissolving like sugar.

"Just tell me." He leaned forward, sucked my earlobe between his lips and then gave it a sharp bite. "I promise I'll give it to you."

"Please," I said, closing my eyes to shut out everything else and just feel him. "Please. Yes."

He reached around, moving his fingertips across my clit with the perfect pressure, the perfect rhythm. I could feel his smile pressing into the back of my neck, and when he opened his mouth and pressed his teeth to my skin, I was done for. 

Warmth spread down my spine, around my hips, and between my legs, jerking me back into him. My hands slammed against the glass, my entire body quaking from the orgasm that was rushing over me, leaving me gasping for air. When it finally subsided, he pulled out and spun me around to face him, ducking his head to suck my neck, my jaw, my lower lip.

"Say thank you," he whispered.

I dug my hands into his hair and tugged hard, hoping I could get some reaction out of him, wanting to see if he was in control or delusional. What are we doing?

He groaned, leaning into my hands and kissing up and down my neck, pressing his erection into my stomach. "Now make me feel good."

I released one hand and brought it down to his cock and began stroking him. He was heavy, and long, and perfect in my palm. I wanted to tell him, but I'd be damned if I ever let him know how amazing he felt. Instead, I pulled away from his lips, staring at him with hooded eyes.

"I'm going to make you come so hard you forget that you're supposed to be the world's biggest asshole," I growled, sliding down the glass before slowly taking his entire cock in my mouth and back against my throat. He tensed and let out a deep moan. I looked up at him, his palms and forehead resting on the glass, his eyes closed tight.

He looked vulnerable, and he looked gorgeous in his abandon.

But he wasn't vulnerable. He was the biggest jerk on the planet and I was on my knees in front of him. No fucking way.

So instead of giving him what I knew he wanted, I stood up, pulled my skirt back down, and met his eyes. 

It was easier now, without him touching me and making me feel things he had no business doing.

The seconds ticked by, neither of us looking away.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he rasped.  "Get on your knees and open your mouth."

"Not a chance."

I pulled the front of my buttonless shirt together and walked out, praying my shaky legs wouldn't betray me.

Grabbing my purse from my desk, I threw my blazer on, trying desperately to fasten the button with my trembling fingers. 

Mr. Ryan still hadn't come out, and I ran to the elevator praying to God it would get there before I had to face him again.

I couldn't even let myself think about what happened until I was out of there. I'd let him fuck me again, give me the most amazing orgasm of my life, and then I'd left him with his pants around his ankles in his office room with the worst case of blue balls known to any man. 

If this was someone else's life I would be high-fiving them so hard. Too bad it wasn't.

Shit.

The doors opened and I entered, quickly pushing the button and watching as each floor counted down. As soon as the elevator reached the lobby I raced out and down the hall. I briefly heard the security guard say something about leaving early, but I just waved and sped past him.

With each step the ache between my legs reminded me of the events of the last hour. As I reached my car I unlocked it with the remote, pulled open the door, and collapsed into the safety of the leather seats.

I looked up at myself in the rearview mirror.

What in the fuck was that?