He catches my bottom lip between his teeth, the nip of pain sending ripples of pleasure directly to my center. Removing one hand from mine, he cups my breast over the thin fabric of my top, my nipple hard between his fingertips as he caresses it, the motion so slow yet making everything in my body feel sped up, like time-lapsed movement.
One hand finally free, I grab his arm, feel the firmness of his bicep. I let my hand drift to his shirt buttons, which I manage to undo—not an easy task one-handed and completely distracted. I let my fingers run down the hard smoothness of his chest, his bare skin bathed in the soft streetlight.
He takes my hand from his torso and moves it the top of my jeans. “Take off your jeans,” he says.
“Why?”
“Because I said so. Unless you want to stop.” He smirks, and I shake my head. Stopping is the last thing on my mind right now.
He releases my other hand and I work open the button of my jeans with impatient fingers, sliding down the zipper and pushing them to my hips. I reach for the stiffness outlined in his jeans, rubbing my palm against it, gliding my fingers up and down his fly as I start to undo his button.
“Not me,” he says, removing my hand from his hard-on and lifting me so I’m sitting on the desk. He slides off my shoes, the high heels banging the hardwood as they drop to the floor, then strips my jeans off me one leg at a time, kissing my thigh, my knee, my shin. “You first.”
And with those words, all thoughts of my shift, my customers, and the tips I was supposed to be earning drift far, far away.
He takes my hand and guides it into my panties, interweaving his fingers with mine as we stroke into my wetness together.
“You like that, tiger?”
All I can manage is a moan. The press of his fingers intensifies.
“I like it, too,” he growls.
He pulls down the top of my tank top with his free hand, flicks my nipple with his tongue, the tip of it against my supple skin making my muscles contract with anticipation. My fingers work back and forth across my clit, and I’m breathless not only at the speed of the sensation, the almost heart-stopping goodness throbbing in my center, but also at the thought of his knowing I’m enjoying this.
I close my eyes, shutting down my visual sense so I can take in everything else even more—the light smell of his sweat, the touch of his warm lips on my soft breasts, the sound of the desk as it rattles against the floor with the movement of our bodies.
Touching myself is not something I would usually do in front of anyone, and definitely not a guy who’s technically my boss.
But then again, nothing about what’s happening with Ryder is usual.
“I don’t know how long I can keep this up,” I say, finally getting to run my free hand through his hair as he moves his mouth to the underside of my breast, then down my stomach, “if you keep doing that.”
“Good things come,” he says, “to those who wait.” He kneels in front of me and kisses my abdomen, my hip bone, my inner thighs as he pushes my legs apart. Between my legs, he pulls my panties to the side, darting his tongue across my clit and my fingers.
Fuck, that feels good. It’s been too long since anybody tasted me that way.
I moan again, helplessly, letting my head fall back, anticipating more where that came from, a wave of orgasmic energy starting in the background of every nerve ending and muscle fiber I have, beginning to build on itself, like a tsunami gaining strength in the deep ocean as it comes closer to shore.
But then Ryder pulls away, still on his knees in front of me. Soft light from outside glows on his face, making him look like an angel—with a devilish grin.
“Tsk tsk. I told you to wait,” he says, running his fingers along the seams of my panties, creating little trails of heat that feel like they’re going to melt me from the outside in.
“You’re a clit tease,” I say. At least, that’s what I think I say. My ability to perform any regular function has mostly been replaced with the intoxicating memory of his mouth.
“No,” he says. “I’m just in charge, aren’t I?” He kisses the back of my wrist on the hand still in my panties.
“No way,” I say, even though every part of my body is pleading with me to surrender to him. And why not? I’ve already surrendered in other ways. I’m working for him essentially for free. I’m basically in his debt now, too. He’s already been taking what he wants from me.
But I don’t have to make it easy to give more.
Then again, he doesn’t have to make it easy to resist. And he’s not.
He slowly pulls my hand from my panties and then gently puts each of my fingers in his mouth, lingering especially on the ones that I was just using, tasting me. “Say it,” he says. “Say I’m in charge.”