They both felt the quiet melancholy of Sunday afternoon as the sun set and evening approached, knowing that their perfect weekend was almost over. After kissing good-bye for almost an hour by the driver’s side of her car, their hands reaching for each other, their bodies aching for more, Ginger finally wrenched herself away and cried the whole way back to Apple Valley, bereft at leaving Cain behind for even a day.
Which made her drive back down to Versailles on Tuesday morning all the sweeter. Unable to bear their separation any longer, she’d left McHuid’s at ten thirty, texting Cain that she was on her way. When she arrived, he was waiting in the garage bay, his jeans slung low, his long-sleeved T-shirt hugging his muscular chest, his eyes—dusky blue and clear—fixed on her through the windshield of her car as she parked, cut the engine, sprang from the car, and ran to his arms.
He lifted her easily, and she locked her ankles around his waist, their lips fusing into a desperate kiss as he carried her inside.
“I need you,” he growled, kicking the office door closed with his foot. “Christ, I missed you, princess.”
She pressed kisses to his smooth jaw, to his cheeks, to his eyelids and lips.
“Me too,” she gasped, her panties soaked, her body clenched with readiness.
“I can’t go slow,” said Cain, setting her down in front of the desk. He used his arm to swipe everything—including their laptops and the phone console—to the side, then turned her around, facing the desk. “Lean over.”
She pulled her maxi dress up to her waist, yanked her panties down to her knees, and bent over the desk with her forearms flat and her forehead down. Behind her, she heard his zipper open with a quick fffft and the sound of his jeans being pushed down. She gasped as his erection pressed against the wet, sensitive folds of her sex and cried out when he grabbed her hips and thrust into her completely with one smooth stroke.
“Ahhh,” he panted, buried deeply inside her, leaning over her back, his shirt pressed against the bunched-up jersey of her dress.
Ginger lay her cheek against the cool, slick wood of the desk and closed her eyes in gratitude and relief.
He pushed her hair aside and pressed his lips to her neck, still motionless within her, though he throbbed like a heartbeat. Her sensitive flesh felt every pulse as he swelled inside her, stretching her to fit him.
“I’m sorry,” he sighed breathlessly.
“Don’t be,” she murmured. “I needed this too.”
“What do you need, baby?” he asked, his tongue darting out to lick her neck as his hands slid between the desk and her dress to massage her breasts.
She whimpered, pressing her ass back against him. “More.”
Withdrawing slowly, Cain thrust forward again, and Ginger moaned loudly. “More.”
Winding her hair in his hand, Cain pulled, firmly but gently, as he withdrew from her, then slammed forward again.
“Oh my God,” she moaned. “Again.”
His other arm looped around her waist, and he pulled her up off the desk a fraction of an inch. “Hold on, Gin.”
She flattened her palms on the desk, and he pumped into her again, but his arm skated lower until he could slip his hand into the slick, vibrating folds of her clit. His middle finger, coarse and hot, found the sensitive bud of flesh and circled it as he pulled on her hair and thrust greedily inside her again.
“I want you to scream my name,” he growled. “I want you to scream my name when you come, princess.”
She nodded, barely able to make words, her body so tight, aching so terribly with her need for release. She only managed a weak, “Okay.”
“You ready for me?”
“Please,” she begged him.
The pad of his finger pressed directly on her clit, rubbing as he thrust into her, faster and faster, her orgasm building to such a massive, almost excruciating pitch, she stopped breathing and her forehead hit the desk just as her body buckled with convulsions and she heard “Cain!” ripped from her throat.
“Ah! Princess!” he groaned, sliding his hands to her hips and holding her in place as he withdrew all the way from her body, then thrust into her with such force, she felt his cock touch her womb and explode with the power of his climax, hot and wet, pumping into her rhythmically until she realized that she was lying on the desk and he was lying on her back.
She was boneless.
She was barely alive.
She was satisfied.
“Mmm,” she murmured, feeling her heartbeat in her temples and ears, and his against her back in strong, rapid beats.
“Are you okay?” he panted close to her ear.
“Oh my God,” she said. “I had no idea . . .”
“That it could be like this?”
“That I could want it so bad,” she confessed as her breathing finally started returning to normal. “That I could love it so much.”
He chuckled, gently withdrawing from her body. Placing an arm under her waist, he pulled her back against him as he sank into a guest chair, holding her on his lap. Her head was on his shoulder, her feet were draped over the arm, and Cain looked down at her, his blue eyes shining with love.
“Hello, girlfriend.”
“Hello, lover,” she said, grinning up at him, loving the softness in his chiseled face, knowing that she was the one who put it there.
“Happy Tuesday.”
“So far, so good,” she said.
He leaned down and kissed her lips tenderly. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”