Anne Marsh - Off Limits / Ruled

‘Like a hole in the head,’ I murmur, but it’s lacking spark.

He laughs, his hands firm around my calves as he spreads my legs wider, and before I can anticipate what he’s going to do he brings his mouth down on me, running his tongue across my opening, lashing me with that same intensity he’s just kissed me with. He pummels me, his tongue flicks my clit, and I am crumbling. I arch my back and stretch my arms over my head, my whole body trembling as wave after wave of need builds inside me. I’m so close to coming that I have to bite down on my lip to stop myself crying out.

‘Have you missed me?’

He brings his mouth higher, dragging his tongue over my belly button, and his fingers push my dress up my body. His fingers find one of my nipples through the fabric of my lace bra and I jerk, because I am too sensitive already. I am only seconds from falling apart.

‘Please...’ I groan, moving my hips nearer to him, needing him to release me from this sensual torture.

‘Please what?’ he asks with a quiet anger I don’t understand.

‘Please,’ I insist.

‘Say it.’

Our eyes clash; it’s a battle of the wills. I don’t care enough to try to win it. At one time I would have fought tooth and nail, but not now. Now only one thing matters to me.

‘Fuck me, Jack.’

‘Here? In the boardroom at my office?’

I am going to hell. I don’t even want to think about what my brain’s going to have to say.

‘Yes. Now. Please. Fuck me,’ I whimper, so hot that I need him to do something. To fix this.

I drop my hand to my clit, but when I touch myself he grabs my wrist and pulls it away.

‘No, that’s cheating,’ he whispers, his eyes on me as he loosens his belt and pushes his pants down just enough to release his gorgeous, glorious cock for me to see. I’ve seen it so many times, but now...? It’s for me.

‘Please...’

His eyes hold mine as he layers protection over his length, quickly, easily.

I push forward on the table, seeking him, and then he thrusts inside me, slamming me hard, and I feel the coiling of a pleasure that I cannot control. It is hot and fierce, and I cry out at the invasion that is so much better than my wildest fantasies.

His hands on my shoulders pull me up; he’s so strong and I am lost in the moment. He pulls me against him and lifts me off the table so I can take him deeper, and I have a fleeting moment of gratitude for the heavy tint on the windows that surround the boardroom. His cock is spearing me, and I am wrapped around him, and he kisses me again—a kiss of such ownership and possession that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to lie to him again.

I did miss him.

‘You want this?’ he asks me, lifting my hips easily, gliding me up his length before pushing me down and making me cry out, my back arched, my nipples hard.

I nod.

‘I didn’t hear that.’

‘I want this,’ I groan, my fingers tearing through his hair, my mind completely scattered.

His laugh is throaty as he lifts me once more, but this time he eases me down to the floor, stroking up my dress as he goes.

I know outrage must show in my face, and I know he appreciates that.

‘You want me.’

Mortification, anger and impatience are firing bullets across my desire.

I reach down and cup his hard-on, my eyes issuing him with a challenge. ‘And you want me.’

He nods slowly, his eyes locked to mine. There is no mockery there now; instead I see something darker. Resentment.

‘I want you.’

He turns away from me, pulling his pants up, buckling his belt, his shoulders set square.

He turns to face me, his expression suddenly businesslike. ‘We’ll talk after the meeting.’

I blink. The meeting. Shit. It’s the reason I’m here but how quickly I’ve forgotten its existence.

My eyes fly to the clocks on the wall, each showing a different time zone. There are minutes to go before the others are expected, which means they could literally arrive now. I run my hands down my dress, then neaten my hair. No time to pin it back into a bun so I just smooth it with the palms of my hands until it sits neatly around my face.

I turn to face him, intending to ask for my underpants back. But the look he gives me is so fulminating that I lose my voice.

‘You look like you’ve just been fucked,’ he says darkly, and I sweep my eyes shut, shame spiralling through me.

What the hell has come over me?

I stalk towards him, my hand extended, waiting for the scrap of lace he must have somewhere, but he grabs my hand and jerks me against him once more.

‘I like the way you taste.’

And he pushes me against the glass, and his hand pushes between my legs, and he pads a thumb over my clit. I’m already at breaking point. His body traps mine, but he doesn’t kiss me. He watches me from a distance as he torments me with his thumb, moving faster until my breath is ragged and my eyes are huge.

‘I want to taste you tonight. I want to spread your legs and dip my tongue inside you. Then I want to flip you over and take you from behind. You are so fucking hot when you’re turned on.’

I whimper—a sound of pure confusion—because the pleasure of his words combined with the torment of his touch is almost more than I can bear.

I swear—a low, throbbing whisper—as my pleasure bursts like a waterfall. I come. I come hard. And as I do he slips a finger deep inside me, swirling it against my walls as my muscles contract. He stays there as I fall apart and then he glides his finger out and lifts it to his mouth, sucking on it while his eyes watch me.

The door is pushed inwards. It happens so quickly. I am still breathless, and I’m sure my orgasm is written all over my face. It’s not like it was my first time, but this was Jack. He’s Jack Grant—seriously sexy.

He should come with a health warning.

I hear my colleagues move into the room and I turn away on the pretext of getting myself a coffee from the back of the room.

He still has my underwear, and the tops of my legs are wet with the evidence of my own satisfaction. My breath is uneven.

God, this is going to be the longest hour of my life.

* * *

‘Gem.’

Is that what everyone in the universe except me calls her? Her back has been towards me for at least three minutes and I’ve gone through the greetings and I’m waiting for her to turn around. I want to see her full red lips, her messy hair, her passion-soaked expression, and I want to know that I did that to her.

She angles her head sideways to greet Barry Moore, one of the transition team consultants on the Tokyo deal. ‘Hey...’

Her smile is cool, her expression calm. The only sign that she was ravaged by me only minutes ago is that her nipples are straining against the fabric of her dress—something that might be explained by the ice-cold air conditioning.

‘You did a great job on the summaries—thanks.’

‘You got my email, then?’ Her voice is calm and clipped, as always, those haughty, aristocratic syllables like plums in her mouth.

‘On the flight over.’ He nods, his eyes briefly dipping to her breasts so that I am flooded by an urgent need to bodily shove him aside.

‘Jack? Shall we begin?’

I draw my attention away reluctantly, turning to the manager of the takeover team. ‘Yes. Take a seat.’

I nod towards the table and find myself drawn to one seat in particular. I press my hands to the tabletop, right where Gemma’s legs were spread, and my eyes seek hers.

She meets them with fierce resentment.

She’s pissed at me.

I just made her come in what I gather to have been a spectacular fashion and she’s angry with me. Mind you, I guess I didn’t really choose my time or place well. Leaving her breathless and wet right as some of the company’s most senior staff filed into the room might explain her anger with me.