I couldn’t believe he was still going, his hips moving hard and fast. It was heaven and hell wrapped into one. His lips moved down my jaw to my neck, nipping and scraping at the flesh beneath as he went.
He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his mouth continuing its attack. It felt so good when his teeth dug deeper, marking my skin, but not breaking it. Each nip sent a wave of fire pulsing through me, making me wetter for him. The rumble in his chest grew as his hands tightened around my hips, making it pretty obvious he could tell.
I was in sensory overload from his cock, grip, and teeth, not to mention his body pinning me to the wall. Everything he did made me his. With every thrust of his hips, every dirty word, and every bite, he claimed me.
He bit down on the meat of my shoulder, and I screamed as a second orgasm ripped through me. My hands searched for something to grab hold of, and they found his neck, pulling him ever closer as my body shook. A groan escaped him; the rhythm of his hips became erratic as my walls milked him.
I was still coming when his teeth clamped down harder and his hips slammed flush with mine. I could feel his cock pulsating as he spilled inside me, pushing further into me with each spurt.
We were both breathing hard as we came down from our sex-induced high. His knees buckled and we slid down the wall, his forehead resting on mine. After a moment he removed himself from me; my body mourned the loss.
Standing up, he straightened out his clothing as he began pacing. I stayed where I was on the floor, my eyes watching him. My muscles resembled Jell-O too much to move. He gathered up his suit jacket and threw it on, never stopping his pacing. His hands moved through his hair, pulling at his neck, while he whispered “shit” over and over again, so low I almost couldn’t hear him.
He was regretting the greatest sex of my life. Fantastic.
He stopped and turned toward me, and my eyes widened at the look of absolute hatred and disgust that met me. His hand grasped the coffee cup on my desk and hurled it into the wall, making me jump. The ceramic shattered into pieces before landing on the floor.
“Fuck!” he screamed, then flung the door open and stormed out.
I was left sitting on the floor, stunned, staring at an empty doorway. After a few minutes, I knew he wasn’t returning, and I picked my tired, sore ass up off the ground. I collected my torn and tattered clothing, trying to redress myself as best I could with what I had remaining. With wobbling legs, I gathered my purse and walked out to my car, leaving the office in a state of disarray.
CHAPTER 3
It was hard to pull myself from the warm comfort of my bed the next morning. I ached, and my mind begged to call in sick. It wasn’t going to happen, though.
My hand slammed down on top of my alarm clock, shutting off the offending piece of plastic. I turned on the light and slid out of bed.
My feet were dragging as I entered the master bath, rubbing my tired eyes in an attempt to wake up. I stopped in front of the mirror and stared at my reflection, shocked at what I saw. My normal bird’s nest of blonde hair and the dark circles from lack of sleep were present. What wasn’t normal were the black and purple marks that marred my skin. There were hand prints on my hips from where he’d grabbed me, imprints of his teeth around my neck and shoulders, and small bruises along my chest.
It was cold out so I could get away with a high collared shirt. I stared at myself for a moment. Was that really what I should’ve been concerned about? If his teeth marks were visible or not? Shouldn’t I have been concerned there were marks at all?
I wasn’t embarrassed about them, they were a reminder of the pleasure he’d given me. I found I liked them. How twisted was I?