Chapter 5 A | After Hours (5)

After Hours | 5

Victoria Langford

My thighs quivered around his hand, the wet, obscene sounds filling the office, mixing with my breathless moans.

"God, you're so tight," he growled, voice thick with satisfaction.

"I'm-" My voice broke. "I'm cumming."

He pressed his chest to my back, his mouth at my ear. "Do it. Come all over my hand, Victoria."

The command undid me. My thighs shook, my hips jerking back into him as the orgasm ripped through me-hot, sharp, and overwhelming. My voice caught in my throat, my walls clenching around his fingers, every nerve sparking like live wire.

He didn't stop. He kept his fingers moving, dragging it out until I was trembling against the desk. His free hand slid up to my breast again, squeezing with greedy possession while his mouth brushed the curve of my neck.

I let out a shuddering breath, my body sagging forward, palms flat on the desk. His fingers slipped from me, wet and glistening, and he didn't bother wiping them. Instead, he brought them to my lips, his voice low.

"Open."

Still hazy from the aftershocks, I parted my mouth. He slid his fingers in, letting me taste myself, his gaze locked on mine when I glanced sideways.

Before I could draw a full breath, his hands caught my hips, turning me to face him. His mouth claimed mine in a hot, deep, unapologetic kiss, swallowing what little strength I had left. Despite feeling weak, I still opened my mouth for him, kissing him back.

I could feel the thick press of him through the thin fabric of his boxer briefs, hard, insistent. Each subtle shift making my pulse pound harder.

"Up on the desk," he murmured, not breaking the kiss.

I pushed myself up with shaky arms, perching on the edge. The papers scattered beneath me as he stepped between my knees, his fingers curling behind my neck to kiss me deeper, stealing the breath right from my lungs.

Then he pulled back just enough to speak. "Lie back."

That commanding tone never fails to sent a shiver racing down my spine. I leaned onto my elbows, my knees parting wider as he reached for the drawer beneath the desk. The metallic crinkle of foil filled the air.

He caught my gaze, holding it as he tore the condom open with his teeth. Something about the sheer casual act of it made heat pool low in my stomach.

I watched him rolled the condom down over his length. The sight of him thick and ready was enough to make my thighs tense in anticipation.

His hands slid to my hips, dragging me closer to the edge until my ass was barely on the desk. The blunt head of his cock brushed against my soaked entrance, the heat of it making my breath stutter. His fingers slid through my slick folds, parting me.

"You're so wet," he said, almost to himself. "All from my fingers."

A soft moan slipped from me when he pressed his tip against my opening, teasing.

"Do you want this, Victoria?" His voice was low, rough, the head of his cock rubbing against my dripping entrance.

"Yes," I breathed, the word slipping out on a moan.

"Say it properly."

"I want you inside me, Professor." I said, the word breaking on my tongue. "Please, fuck me with you big cock."

The corner of his mouth curved in satisfaction. Then he pushed in, slow, deliberate, the stretch pulling a gasp from my throat, my fingers curling into the scattered papers beneath me. Even after the slick aftermath of my orgasm, he was thick enough that my walls tensed around him instinctively.

"Relax," he murmured.

His free hand sliding up to cup my breast again, rolling my nipple between his fingers in a coaxing rhythm.

Then he pushed deeper, filling me inch by inch. The sheer fullness of him made my breath hitch, my toes curling. He didn't rush. Every slow, deliberate thrust forward pushed me open further until he was fully seated inside me, the heat and stretch almost overwhelming.

"Fuck," he breathed, jaw clenched. "So tight."

He didn't move right away, just stayed there, buried to the hilt, one hand still on my breast, the other gripping my hip so firmly I knew it would leave marks.

Then he pulled out slowly, almost all the way, before slamming back in, hard enough to make my breath stutter and the desk rattling beneath us.

I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out, but his next thrust tore the sound from me anyway.

"Ahhh!"

"That's it," he murmured, his voice dark and intent. "Let me hear you."

His pace began to build-deep, rhythmic strokes that sent heat flooding through me, each one landing harder than the last. One hand braced on the desk beside my head, the other palming my breast, thumb brushing over my taut nipple.

I arched into him, a broken sound slipping from my lips. His mouth found mine again, swallowing it, his kiss rough and claiming.

"You like this?" he growled against my mouth.

"Yes... yes, Professor," I gasped, my voice trembling with every thrust.

His hand on my breast squeezed harder, his other gripping my hip to pull me into each stroke. The sharp slap of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with my ragged breathing and his low, strained curses.

"Look at me," he ordered.

I forced my eyes open, meeting his. They were darker now, almost predatory. His glasses gone, his hair slightly mussed from my fingers. The sight made heat surge through me all over again.

"You take me so well," he said through gritted teeth, pulling his shaft all the way out before driving back into me with brutal precision. "But I think you can take more."

The next thrust was deeper, harder, his hips slamming into mine with a force that made my knees buckle. His hand slid down, fingers finding my clit and rubbing in quick, merciless circles that matched his pounding rhythm.

My body jerked, pleasure shooting through me so intensely I couldn't think straight. "Oh-God-Professor-"

"Say my name," he growled, his hand curling lightly around my throat, not choking, just holding me there, keeping my gaze locked on his.

"Sebastian," I gasped, the syllables breaking on my tongue as he thrust harder, faster.

"That's better."

His grip on my hips tightened again, dragging me back into each punishing stroke until my body was nothing but sensation-heat, friction, the raw sound of our bodies colliding.

"You're close," he said, almost smug, feeling the way I clenched around him. "Don't you dare come until I tell you."

Every muscle in me fought to obey, but each thrust made it harder. The rough grip, the way his fingers tortured my clit, keeping me pinned on the edge.

"Please-" I was begging before I even realized it. "Please, I can't-"

"You can," he snapped, his hips slamming into me harder. "You will."