Enflame

by S. Layne

  “Let go of me.”

  He shakes his head, that deep line appearing above his slightly crooked nose. “I told you I was meeting with a new lawyer today. She got word of it, came to convince me we have something left between us. That’s all you saw, Talia.”

  I lift a finger and point to his cheek and his collar. “You’re wearing her lipstick.”

  He scowls and runs his thumb across his cheek, rubbing it off.

  I stare into his green eyes searching for lies I can’t find. But it still hurts. I’ve just been smacked with the reminder that even if I am in his bed, I’m not truly his.

  He’s not mine.

  “What did she want?” I ask, and I see relief flicker in his eyes.

  “My former lawyer called her, which breaks about a thousand attorney client privileges and I plan on suing him for it.” His hands leave my arms and he scrubs them down his face, sighing heavily. “There’s shit going on that I haven’t told you, mostly due to my mother and her perceived hold on me. She hates that I’m no longer her puppet and blames Jeremiah, blames Emily. She’s using Cassandra to keep me under her thumb, except what she hasn’t realized yet is that neither of them have any control over me anymore.”

  I want to ask him who does, because by the way his eyes are searching my face, looking for understanding, I think he might say me.

  But I’m too raw. The last thing I expected to see here tonight was Cassandra. His wife.

  Guilt churns in my stomach like curdled milk.

  “I should go,” I tell him, taking a step away.

  “Don’t. Tell me why you came.”

  I shake my head and wave in the direction toward his door. “I brought you dinner, thought we could eat together since you were going to be home late.” And then I thought I’d screw you on your desk so you’d always remember me.

  The satin shifts across my breasts, causing my nipples to harden.

  Donovan grins and walks toward his desk. He presses the intercom again and I hear Patrick answer.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Lore?”

  Donovan’s green eyes keep me cemented in place. I should go, but I can’t.

  “Warm up whatever you can from the dinner Miss Merchant brought and bring it to my office. What would you like to drink?” he asks, his question clearly for me.

  “Water,” I croak. My throat feels parched. My tongue thick.

  He nods. “And two waters.”

  “Certainly—”

  He hangs up on Patrick and I frown. “That wasn’t very polite.” I nod toward the intercom.

  “I pay him a lot of money to do what he’s told, so I don’t have to waste my time with manners.”

  Well, that’s rude. My lips twitch with the need to scold him, but then I remember that he’s not one of my kids.

  “So.” He rounds the corner of his desk and reaches out his hand for me to take. Even with my pain and my anger, I know I trust him. I just hate that I can’t claim his as mine. “You missed me so much you had to see me?”

  I think of the lace and satin beneath my clothes and my cheeks heat. “Partly.”

  “Really?” His voice drops to that seductive tone, sending shivers to my pelvic area. “What was your other reason?”

  My eyes dart to his desk. To his chair. I look away, feeling warmth climb up the column of my throat to my cheeks. My lips burn.

  “I was going to surprise you,” I mutter, running my hands down my thighs. I feel the clasp of the garter belt beneath my thin skirt and my panties grow damp.

  “Something tells me you mean more than dinner.”

  I can’t think with his amused but desire-filled voice. I swallow thickly and my bottom lip finds its way between my teeth.

  His thumb pulls on it and moves to my chin. I feel that one small touch roll through my system as adrenaline and arousal build inside of me.

  “What is your surprise?”

  I wrinkle my nose. “I’m not sure now is the best time, anymore. I’m feeling sort of thrown by everything.”

  Disappointment flashes in his eyes, but not enough to quell the passion I see in them. He sighs. “Talia, you are the only woman I want. The only woman, if I’m being honest, I’ve ever wanted.”

  Replaying the few moments I saw them together suddenly makes sense. He was not happy to be around her, the way he flinched when she touched him. He didn’t make a scene, but he made it obvious that she wasn’t wanted. Relief spreads through my shoulders and they loosen.

  Cassandra’s hissed words replay in my mind. “What did she mean? When she told me she knew you’d come find me.”

  Donovan’s lips twitch, fighting a smile. Then they spread into a chagrined grin, and if I’m not mistaken, his cheeks turn pink. His fingers run along the outer edges of his mouth. He’s fidgeting and nervous. My curiosity piques.

  “I may have called her your name once.”

  “My name?” I ask, and then my eyes widen. “You…you didn’t…did you?”

  He has the grace to look ashamed—whether for admitting he had sex with her or that he called my name while doing so, I don’t know.

  I take a step back. This information is tasteless…yet oddly, I’m turned on by the thought.

  He thought of me while having sex with other women.

  He nods and his hand reaches for my hip, stopping me from moving further away. “She was my wife.”

  I shake my head. She still is.

  Slowly, a grin spreads my lips wide. “I can’t believe you’d do that.”

  “I told you,” he says, looking oddly perplexed. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted.”

  I’m torn with this new information.

  Fortunately, our spell is broken by a knock on his office door. Donovan goes to it, unlocks the door, and opens it. “Thank you, Patrick. You may leave for the night.”

  I hear a muted conversation between the two, but can’t hear the words Donovan returns, pushing in a wheeled tray.

  I inhale the aroma of burritos, enchiladas, fried rice, and beans. The chips are in a bowl, and the salsa and guacamole are as well.

  “Come join me,” Donovan says, pushing the cart toward a couch.

  I take a seat next to him and we settle in, eating our food.

  “This is delicious,” he murmurs over bites. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

  “My pleasure,” I tell him. It’s been a rocky, mind-bending night, but I can’t deny the way I feel around this man.

  He quirks a brow and holds a chip to his mouth. “It will be.”

  “What was your other surprise?” he asks.

  Our bellies are filled with delicious, spicy food. I take a drink of my water, trying to ease both the slight burn of the question and the hot salsa in my throat.

  I cross my legs, and Donovan’s eyes drop with the movement. They narrow, and I watch as he notices the hint of my thigh-highs ending and the clasp of the garter. He looks at me through long, light-colored lashes.

  “This?”

  His hand reaches out and slowly runs along my thigh, pushing my skirt up higher. I uncross my legs to give him easier access.

  His touch sends a shock to my core. Quivering sensations spread from my sex to my inner thighs.

  I hesitate before nodding. “Yes.”

  Leaning forward, Donovan brushes his lips against mine, once, and then twice. His hand pushes my skirt up further, until his fingertips brush against the edge of my lacy panties.

  Then he claims his kiss in a movement so slow, so tender, I feel like reaching into my chest and simply handing him my heart on a platter.

  The warm rasp of his tongue against mine combined with his tender caresses create a silent riot inside my needy body.

  I lean forward, into the kiss and into him, clasping my hands behind his neck.

  He leans forward until I’m on his couch, splayed out before him. Shifting his body over me, he settles once his erection presses against me in the perfect spot. I can’t contain the shivers that roll t
hrough my body in response.

  “Always so ready for me,” he murmurs, pulling away from me slightly.

  I meet his gaze and hold it, loving the emotions I see swirling inside his green eyes.

  He wants me.

  A rush of confidence floods through me and I push him back until I’m sitting, legs spread wide, Donovan on his knees.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I slide my hand down his chest. “I wanted you to fuck me on your desk, so you can remember me when you’re working late.”

  He swallows slowly and his lips spread into a smirk.

  With quick movements, he grabs my hips and pulls me to him. “That sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all week.”

  A laugh escapes my throat as he stands up, lifting me along with him, and wraps my legs around his waist.

  Holding my ass with one hand, he clears off files and sets me on the edge of his desk. My heels drop onto the floor. His eyes roam my body and then they narrow.

  “What?”

  “I can’t decide where I should start first.” His hand brushes across my covered breasts, and I inhale a gasp. “Here?” he asks, and trails his hand down the side of my ribcage. All the anticipation I’ve felt all day begins heating my blood, and I can’t take my eyes off him as his hand moves to cup my already hot, wet center. “Or here?” He looks at me, his eyes bright with mischief and lust. “Any preferences?”

  I shake my head and lean back until I’m propped up on my elbows. With the sexiest voice I can muster, I reply, “Wherever you want.”

  His lips crook to the side, and an uncommon tender look softens his features. “God, you’re perfect for me.”

  Without wasting any more time, I watch as Donovan slides off his suit coat, unbuttons his shirt, and removes the belt on his pants. His hands stall on the button on his pants and he quirks a brow. “Are you going to undress?”

  I fight back a laugh and sit up. “Romantic, aren’t we?”

  “Horny. Yes, I am.” His forehead drops to mine and he clasps the back of my neck with his hand. “You have no idea how many times I’ve sat at this desk and envisioned sinking into you, tasting you until you’re all over my mouth and my lips.”

  Shudders wrack my body and I moan. “Then you should probably get started.”

  Pulling back from me, he plants a quick, firm kiss on my lips. His hands begin removing my shirt from my skirt, and I shift against him until I can feel his erection press against me.

  “God you’re sexy,” he murmurs, and removes my shirt.

  I raise my arms to help him, loving the way he looks at me, and rest my hands on his hips. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  “And good for my ego,” he mutters with a grin on his lips.

  “I think your ego is probably big enough.” I’m about to make another sarcastic retort when he silences me with a kiss. This one is not fast, but his tongue plunders inside my mouth, instantly claiming me, and I succumb to the taste of him, the feel of him, and the heat from his body rolling off him as he lays me down on his desk.

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  His hands find my underwear, and he pushes it to the side before two of his fingers slide inside me.

  My breath hitches. I’m overwhelmed with emotions and the need to have him inside of me, when he suddenly pulls his fingers out and presses them against my lips.

  I open my mouth instantly, sucking his fingers inside. Keeping my eyes open, I hum at the taste of me mixed with his salty skin. He overwhelms me in the most delicious way possible, pulls emotions and sensations from me that I never knew existed, and all it takes is a confident touch, a commanding tone.

  “Stand up,” he orders. Not giving me time to comply, he pulls me off the desk. One of his hands pushes down on my shoulder. Knowing what he wants, I keep my eyes on his and sink to my knees in front of him.

  My hands run down his rippled abs until they stop on his waistband.

  In quick movements, I finish unbuttoning his pants and pull them down his legs, along with his boxers, until his erection springs free and is directly in front of my mouth.

  I lick my lips, wetting them, and look up at Donovan.

  One of his hands moves to the back of my neck and he pushes me forward. “Suck me.”

  I can’t think of anything I want more. I wrap my hand around his cock and tug once, then twice. A groan falls from his parted lips, and his eyes close as I lean forward and lick the tip of his cock.

  “Fuck, yes.”

  Wanton lust spreads through my veins as I watch him turned on just from me. I want to play with him, drive him absolutely crazy, but I want him too much.

  When I have his attention, I open my mouth and wrap my lips around his cock. His hand continues pushing me forward until I have most of him inside me. I pause, taking a moment to loosen the muscles on my throat before he pulls me back.

  With one hand still on his shaft, I begin sucking him, loving the taste of him and inhaling his scent. I rock back and forth, moving along with his firmly guiding hand at the back of my neck, yet he never takes full control.

  “Jesus, Talia. You’re so fucking good at this.”

  I hum my approval as I feel him thicken inside my mouth. I know he’s close. His thighs shake slightly and his grip on my hair tightens. Another pained groan is ripped from his throat before he roughly pulls out of me.

  “Enough. Stand up.”

  I smile wickedly. “Was that not good enough?”

  His hand cups my cheek. “I don’t want to come in your mouth. I want to come in your pussy. Now turn around.”

  I move slowly and fall forward when his hand on my back pushes me forward. “Grip the edge of the desk,” he growls. And I smile for just a moment before he unclasps my garter belts and yanks down my underwear.

  He doesn’t see if I’m ready—he knows I am.

  Instead, he lines his cock up at my pussy and plunges inside.

  “Yes,” I hiss, my walls clamping around him instantly.

  He pushes me up onto my tiptoes before pulling out.

  “So good, Donovan.”

  And then I’m rendered speechless as he pulls out and forcefully pushes back inside me again.

  My fingers tighten their grip on the desk and my head falls forward.

  “Tilt your ass, let me have all of you.”

  I do, and instantly moan from the change in position that makes me feel like he’s splitting me in two. I don’t care.

  It’s incredible. Earth-shaking.

  My thighs begin to shake and tremble and his hands hold onto my hips, pulling me back against him, making me fuck him.

  His growl fills the room, mixed with my whimpers, and I shatter. With one final push as he seats himself inside of me, I come around him, knowing that I have just become Donovan’s.

  Completely his.

  Permanently.

  Irrevocably.

  “Talia,” he groans, and I feel his own orgasm ripped from his body. His muscles tense. His hands tighten on my hips, and then he falls forward, pushing me until the edge of the desk digs into my hips.

  “Holy fuck,” he mutters. “How does it always keep getting better and better?”

  He whispers it into my hair, but I’m far too lost in my own realization that he owns me— everything about me—to answer.

  Instead, I murmur my acknowledgement.

  When he’s calmed down, he pushes off of me, and I frown as I feel him pull out of me. With a hand on my lower back, he keeps me still.

  “Seeing my come fall out of you is so fucking hot, T.” His quiet but reverent voice sends sparks to my sex and I feel it clench, feel more of him slide out of me. His finger swipes along my inner thigh and then it’s in front of me. “Taste us.”

  I wrap my lips around his finger and close my eyes, relishing our mixed tastes.

  “So fucking sexy,” he mutters, and pulls his finger from me. I look back at him over my shoulder and my breath hitches when I meet his gaze.

  Unknown emotions flash i
n his eyes, and I know he’s feeling the exact same thing I am.

  Overwhelmed.

  Owned.

  He doesn’t know what to do about it any more than I do.

  I can barely focus on the faint blue lines marking the walls and doorways on the initial blueprints of our soon-to-be new counseling location.

  It has been a week filled with the most blissful experiences I can possibly remember. Every day I see the wall that had been built between Jeremiah and Donovan crumble a little bit more.

  A quiet knock on my door makes me lift my head, breaking me out of my thoughts.

  “Hey,” I say looking up to see Marisa smiling mischievously. I lean back in my chair. “What’s up?”

  “You have a visitor.” She sings the words happily and winks.

  I make a face. Donovan? I mentally slap myself. He’s busy this week. I’ve barely seen him. The fact that he’s the first person I think of these days is telling enough.

  “Who?” I ask, uncurling my legs from under my lap and standing from the desk chair.

  I walk toward her and laugh softly when Marisa wiggles her eyebrows.

  “You’re shameless. And too old to be this goofy.”

  She scowls playfully. “You’re never too old to be goofy.”

  True. Her words make me think of Mrs. Bartol. The two of them together would be a riot, and I have to remember to stop by her house soon.

  Or wait two more weeks until I’m back at home.

  I frown at the thought and am distracted with the realization that my time with Donovan and Jeremiah will soon come to an end.

  He’s held to his end of the bargain, using my body whenever he sees fit.

  I’ve made good on mine, helping Jeremiah and being there to create a relationship between the two.

  “What’s wrong?”

  The familiar masculine voice clears through my frumpy thoughts and I snap my head up.

  My jaw drops and that recognizable tingle of awareness awakens when I see Donovan standing at Marisa’s desk, his elbows perched on top, his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed.

  On me.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, unable to hide my shock. It’s three in the afternoon. Jeremiah should be here any moment. “Is everything okay with J?”