Breaking All the Rules

by Cynthia Sax

  “You can trust me.” I lower my feet to the carpet and I wince, pain shooting up my legs.

  “Try to stand and I’ll paddle your ass,” he warns.

  I give him my most seductive smile. “I might like that, big boy.”

  “You won’t like it, love.” Nate lifts me easily onto the desk. “I’ll be too angry for make-up sex.” He unzips my skirt. “Too angry to put more dents in my desk.” He pulls on the garment, sliding the soft leather over my legs. “Too angry to fill your tight little pussy.” He skims his fingers over the jewel in my belly button.

  “Too angry to love me.” I shimmy out of my panties, the desk cool against my bare ass.

  “I’ll never be that angry.” Nate yanks on his shirt. Fabric rips and buttons pop, the plastic disks bouncing on the carpet. “I’ll always love you.” The shredded cotton floats to the floor. “Sit on our agreement, Camille.” His muscles ripple, not an ounce of excess padding on his fit form. “I want it to smell of you.”

  I slide the fine linen paper beneath me. “You are a kinky bastard, aren’t you?” I wiggle, grinding my scent into the document.

  “So I’ve been told.” Nate unzips, discarding his pants and boxer shorts with one hard yank. His cock is hard, his thigh muscles defined. He’s beautiful, male, and mine. My nipples tighten to the point of agony, aching for his touch. “Spread your legs for me. Show me how wet you are.”

  “You’re being very bossy today.” I narrow my eyes as I comply, opening my body to his gaze. “I’m not one of your vanilla-sex yes-women, Nate.” I run my hands over my breasts, my stomach, my hips, teasing both of us. “You can’t control me.”

  “I’ve noticed that.” He watches me, his eyes dark with desire. “You’re my green-haired hippie, believing in peace and love and freedom.” My naked executive wraps his fingers around his slightly curved cock. A bead of pre-cum forms on his tip. “You’re fearless, strong, defiant.” He lowers his gaze to my feet and scowls. “Even when you’re hurt.”

  “You’re clever, solid, steadfast, and I need you.” I gaze at him with all of the lust in my heart, telling him with my eyes what I want to do to him, how I want to lick every inch of his skin, suck on his flat nipples, take him deep inside me, find release in his arms.

  He groans. “Look at me that way again and I’ll come.”

  “You’ll come when I give you permission to come, Nate.” A sexy sense of power fills me. I spread my thighs wider, giving him a clear view of my cleanly shaven mons, my pink pussy lips, my empty entrance. “And you won’t come one moment sooner.” I strum my fingertips over my wetness, the flames of my desire burning, scorching me inside and out. “Touch yourself. Prepare yourself for my pussy.”

  “I’m always prepared for your snug little pussy.” Nate tightens his grip on his shaft. “And I see you’re ready for me.” He strokes his cock, pumping up and down, up and down, his tempo matching mine. “You glisten with sweetness and smell delicious.” His nostrils flare. “Ripe and womanly.”

  “Your pillow talk is improving, love.” I circle my clit, winding my arousal around my body. We touch and tease our bodies, watching, wanting, waiting, prolonging this moment, wishing it would last forever. I drop my head back, my hair cascading over my shoulders, the tendrils caressing my skin.

  “You’re beautiful.” Nate’s eyes flash, bolts of light illuminating storm clouds. “And you’re mine.” He moves between my legs, stroking my calves, knees, thighs, setting off tremors of delight. “To love forever.” His cock head brushes my clit and I quiver.

  “Fill me, Nate.” I undulate on top of the desk, calling to him with my body.

  Nate cups my ass, holding me in place, and positions himself at my entrance. “I’ll give you everything you want,” he vows as he pushes inside me. I moan, the fullness sublime.

  The invasion is slow and steady, his conquest thorough and endless, his cock filling me. I grasp his arms, savoring his strength, his muscles flexed and tight.

  Nate gazes down at my face as he mounts me, raw, stark lust gleaming in his eyes. There’s no need for words, his emotions and thoughts easily read, all of his doors open to me, his secrets shared.

  The slide of cock into pussy finally concludes and I wrap my legs around his waist, hooking my feet above his ass, our bodies joined, our souls linked. Nate curves his palms over my breasts and strokes my nipples with his fingertips, the pleasure delectable and right. We fit, two extremes converging into a more powerful whole.

  “This is everything I want,” I murmur, rocking against him as he kneads my curves, his skin rough and arousing. Nate allows me to control the motion, tugging, pinching my nipples, the sweet pain driving my fervor toward the ceiling, the connection between us humming.

  I writhe, grinding against him, my solid wall of a man. Nate doesn’t move, standing with his back straight and his hips still, presenting an exciting challenge I can’t resist. I reach above me, grip the edge of the desk, and pull, our agreement serving as a glider under my ass.

  I slide until only his tip remains inside me, my body agonizingly empty, and gaze up at him. Nate lifts one of his eyebrows, his eyes glittering, daring me to fuck him.

  I will fuck him. Using my legs, I slam myself against him, smacking my pussy lips against his base. He grunts, his cock bobbing inside of me, his clasp on my breasts intensifying.

  “Your body is mine, Iceman.” I laugh, joy meshing with my desire. I repeat the motion again and again, my arm and leg muscles straining, my pussy heating to my flash point.

  “You’re fearless.” Nate twists my sensitive nipples and I cry out, clenching his shaft with my inner muscles. “So fuckin’ fearless,” he groans, his deep voice adding to my turmoil, compounding my need.

  My arms tire and my desire builds. Beads of sweat form on Nate’s forehead, and his body shakes as he struggles to remain still. I’m tormenting both of us with my stubbornness.

  “Fuck me, Nate.” I release the desk and reach for him.

  “Yes.” He draws me upward, flattening my breasts against his chest. My hair ripples over my shoulders. As Nate moves against me, his rhythm slow and steady, he threads his fingers through the tendrils, then drifts his fingertips over the tattoo winding down my back, silently accepting all of me: my green hair, tattoo, piercings, and rebellious nature.

  “So unique.” Nate thrusts harder and harder. “Special.” I hitch my hips upward, my fingers flattening against his broad back. “Mine,” he rumbles. We work together, struggling for our fulfillment. My breasts smack against his chest and my ass whacks the desk’s hard surface. I squeeze and release his shaft with my pussy, massaging him into a frenzy.

  That isn’t enough; our movements are too shallow.

  “Nate?” He’ll know what to do, how to please me.

  “I need more.” He pushes me onto my back, covers me with his big body, and drives into me.

  “Yes,” I cry, bouncing my heels against his ass. This is what I need, what I want. Nate pounds into me, hard and furiously fast, his skin slapping against mine, heating me to my core.

  I grip his shoulders and rise into each thrust, panting, yearning, shamelessly seeking my satisfaction. We fuck on his office desk while his employees work diligently outside the door, unaware that their normally cool collected Iceman boss is balls deep in a rebel intern’s hot wet pussy.

  This naughtiness thrills me. I dig my fingernails into his skin, marking him as mine, and he is mine now and forever, part of my soul until death do us part. My body shakes, my orgasm approaching, as inevitable as our love, our destinies entwined.

  “Two more,” I gasp against his neck, my pussy coiling tight around his shaft.

  “One.” Nate drives into me, propelling my ass against the wooden surface, shaking my control. He withdraws and I cling to him with all of the strength in my smaller body, needing him inside of me.

  “Two.” He thrusts into my clenched pussy and I scream, torn apart by bliss, the room spinning around and around and around. Nate co
vers my lips, smothering my screams with an awe-inspiring roar. He pushes deeper, filling me with his cock and his cum, and I buck, twist, trying to free myself from his lips, his touch, the sensation too much, too exquisitely intense.

  Nate restrains me as he always does, my unrelenting man providing structure and security to my anarchy, soothing my savage thoughts, gentling my rough edges. My bone-rocking tremors ease to flutters and he collapses.

  “Love you,” I mumble against his slick skin.

  “I love you, Camille.” Nate braces himself upward. His chest heaves. His eyes are dark with spent passion. I gaze up at him, unable to believe this handsome, giving, intelligent man is mine.

  “Make-up sex is the best,” Nate declares.

  “I’m glad you liked it.” I grin, splaying my fingers over his left pectoral muscle. “Because we’ll have make-up sex quite often. I have a bit of a temper,” I confess.

  “I noticed.” Nate’s lips lift into that half-smile of his, the one that drives me wild. “Your passion is one of the many things I love about you.” He kisses the top of my head.

  “Your pillow talk continues to improve.” I snuggle deeper into his big body. “What else do you love about me?”

  My Iceman chuckles.

  Epilogue

  * * *

  “AND MR. BLAINE said they’d incorporate my app into their new operating system,” I chatter as Nate and I enter the elevator car, holding hands. He presses the buttons for our respective floors as he has done every workday for the past eleven months.

  I find this routine strangely comforting amid the other changes in our lives. Emily, Mr. Blaine and Anna’s baby, is talking. Mr. Henley and Kat are married. My data-sharing website and app have launched, Blaine Technologies managing the project under their umbrella of other products. I’m focusing on the ideas for the next release stage and that suits me just fine. Making rules and managing others aren’t my strengths.

  Nate is my strength. “This should expand the donation base substantially.” I gaze at our reflections in the mirrored walls. My emerald earrings, four in each ear, sparkle. The matching hardware for my tongue, nose, and bottom lip are just as subtle, Nate’s impeccable taste pleasing Blaine Technologies’ stodgy fashion police. I’m wearing a formfitting black leather suit and the sexiest shoes I’ve ever owned, the six-inch heels sinfully narrow. My green hair falls around my shoulders, loose and free. “What do you think about that?” I ask.

  “It’s a good idea,” Nate murmurs. He’s clad in his usual black suit, white shirt, black tie, his expression frosty and his chin raised, his cheekbones chiseled as though carved out of ice. “It’ll be more exposure for the app.” Thin lines form between his blond eyebrows, the telling fissures in his frigid profile triggering my concern.

  “You’re worried about something.” I squeeze his hand. “Spit it out, love. You’ll feel better.”

  Silence stretches. I wait, giving him the time he needs. While I may blurt out every thought passing through my brain, Nate is more careful, his caution offsetting my recklessness.

  His lips flatten. “This scenario isn’t in our agreement. You might get angry.” His pale gray eyes gleam. “Again.”

  “And then we’ll have make-up sex.” I brush my body against his. “Again.” I smile seductively. “Should I cancel my morning meetings?”

  “Gladys has already canceled your meetings.” Nate strides forward, waves his passcard over the elevator sensor, and slaps the emergency stop button. The car jerks and then stills, the red digital numbers stuck between two and three. “Camille.” He turns to me, drops to one knee, and takes my hands, his fingers trembling.

  “Nate,” I squeak. He’s proposing. My head spins. He wants to make our forever status official.

  “I realize that marriage is an artificial construct designed by the establishment to regulate our natural desires,” Nate says grimly.

  “Sweet Mother Earth.” My lips twitch. “Tell me you didn’t ask my dad for permission to marry me.” My mom and dad view the legislation of love as archaic and oppressive.

  “I tried.” Crimson creeps up Nate’s neck. “Your dad wishes us joy and realizes we have to walk our own paths, but he refuses to serve as the authority figure in our relationship.” My overly serious executive sighs. “My father thinks marriage is a trap. My mother doesn’t believe Lawford men are capable of commitment. There’s nothing in our agreement about marriage.” The lines on his face deepen. “I don’t know if this is what you want, if you’ll say yes.”

  “Yes,” I tell him, seeking to ease his concerns.

  “Pardon?” Nate gazes up at me.

  “Yes.” I kneel beside him, the floor tiles cool and hard against my bare knees. “I’ll marry you.” His lips part. “No one expects us to marry, to have a traditional wedding ceremony.” I hold both of his hands. “But we’ve never done anything people expect.” I kiss his knuckles. “I’m yours forever, Nate, and I want the world to know it. I want our children to know where they belong, where they fit.”

  “Our children will know they were conceived in love, planned for, and wanted.” Nate pulls me into his arms and presses my face against his chest. His clean fresh-showered scent engulfs me. “They’ll always feel worthy.” He pets my hair, his touch gentle and soothing. “Cared for.”

  “Loved.” I loop my arms around his neck and cover his lips with mine. We kiss, touch, tease, Nate’s mint flavor tingling in my mouth. He plays with my tongue stud, rotating the emerald and flicking the back, the sensation deliciously decadent. I wiggle closer to him.

  Nate stands, drawing me upward with him, his taller physique supporting me, our lips fused together, one. He has been a source of strength, knowledge, and sanity during my charitable venture start-up, sustaining me through the emotional ups and downs, the long nights and endless meetings, the triumphs and the crushing setbacks. He’s my rock, always there, always calm, cool, collected.

  “I love you.” I smile, drunk on his caresses.

  “I love you too.” Nate reaches inside his jacket pocket, removes a heart-shaped emerald ring, and slides it onto my finger. The ring fits perfectly, made for me, as he is, my sexy executive.

  “You’re my rebel heart.” He lifts my hand, kisses the stone, and I melt against him, my knees liquefied by my Iceman’s soul-felt words. He’s hard, his cock pressing against his pants, pressing against me.

  “My heart belongs to you.” I shift, rubbing over him, taunting him with my body, my hands flattened against his lapels, my emerald ring glittering. “Forever.”

  “Forever.” Nate cups my leather-clad rear, squeezing my curves, his sure grip escalating my arousal. “I need you, Camille.” His eyes gleam with hunger. “I need you now.”

  I need him as desperately. “Then take me.” I pivot on my heels and hike up my skirt, the air cool on my heated skin. “Give me everything you have, big boy.” Gripping the metal hand railing, I bend over, pushing my bare ass against him. I gaze at the mirrored wall and don’t recognize myself. My face is flushed, my lips pink and parted, my hair falling forward, sleek and green and perfect, the emeralds catching the light.

  I’m no longer a Goth girl, fighting all of the unfairness in the world, isolated and alone. I’m now an otherworldly seductress, a sophisticated and unique young woman secure in her own power, belonging with the stunning man behind me.

  “You’re beautiful.” Nate unzips his pants, the loud rasp declaring his intention. I wiggle, waiting impatiently for the sublime fullness only he can give me. “So beautiful.” Fabric swishes, his pants and boxer shorts pooling around his ankles.

  Warm rough fingers stroke along my ass cheeks and fold over my hips. I watch him in the mirror. His blond head is bent, his focus on my body, his eyes stormy, needy, laden with fierce emotion. Flesh prods my entrance, broad and unrelenting.

  I spread my legs wider and roll my hips enticingly, daring him to subdue me, to claim me. Nate meets my sexual challenge, pushing inside me, skimming his cock head
along my inner walls, stretching me open. As my serious man slowly works his way into my tight pussy, he meets my gaze in the reflection.

  Silver sparks flash in his dark eyes, his desire melding with mine. The connection between us, always constant, always there, sizzles and snaps. A current of energy flows around our partially clothed bodies, plucking at my nipples and heating the pit of my stomach.

  Nate takes me completely, pressing his base against my feminine folds, and he stills, kneading my hips with his fingertips, his chest rising and falling. “You’re perfect.”

  “I’m perfect for you.” I arch. My body is contained by restrictive leather and barricaded by mirrored wall and hard man yet I feel free, freer than I’ve ever been.

  “We’re perfect together.” Nate leisurely withdraws. “This is everything.” Only his tip remains inside me. “This is the best.” He drives deep.

  “The best,” I cry, gripping the metal railing. As he pistons in and out of me my hair sways, a veil of green silk hanging downward, rippling with every thrust.

  Our rhythm gradually builds, our bodies moving together, male and female, muscles and curves, tanned and pale. Nate hooks one of his arms around me and covers my mons with his palm, pressing the heel of his hand against my clit, the contact spiraling my desire upward.

  He is driving me toward madness while he remains frustratingly composed, his tempo steady, carefully regimented. This is unacceptable. I undulate against him, coaxing him closer to the edge, calling him to join me so we can reach fulfillment together.

  Nate answers, surging forward. I propel myself backward. Our bodies smack together. I moan with delight, my thighs quivering, my curves warming with the contact. He grunts. I pant. Skin slaps against skin, the sounds of our fucking savage and primitive.