I’m wet. So damn wet.
He groans again, pressing his erection into my navel while still kissing me, claiming me like I never have been before.
I’ve never felt so out of control before.
When he clicks the lock on the handle of the door all bets are off and I lose all sense of myself. I lose all sense of time and what I came here to say to begin with.
I forget his life and mine. I forget my morals and his. All I can think about is having him in a way I’ve been telling myself I don’t want him for far too long.
His hands desperately pull my skirt up, his lips still on mine, his breath coming from his nose. It gathers at my hips and he lifts me, wrapping my legs around his waist, still kissing me as though terrified if he stops, I might change my mind. I’m not sure I have the strength to change anything anymore.
Mr. Conti is my personal form of heroin and I’ve become addicted from the first hit.
He sets me on his desk, holding my thigh so I keep it hooked around him. I tug on his tie until it’s dangling. I grip both ends and use it to hold him closer to me as he frantically grasps at every part of my body that he can reach.
He tastes divine, better than I could have imagined, and his hair is so soft.
I start working on the buttons of his shirt and he shrugs it off, leaving his toned and glorious chest bare to my viewing pleasure. I break the kiss and stare into his eyes for a moment, we’re both breathing heavily, lips swollen, hair a mess, eyes mirroring the pleasure we feel just by being free with each other after tearing down boundaries that should always be there.
When neither of us say stop, neither of us find the strength to end something that never should have started, he starts on the buttons to my shirt, undoing them slowly, one by one, revealing the white lace bralette that only just contains my round, shapely breasts.
His hands push my shirt open and his thumbs stroke over the swells of my breasts, lightly tickling the points of my nipples which are solid and poking through the sheer material.
He dips his head to kiss the curve of my breast, and then the other. I shiver, it feels so nice. I want him to kiss me everywhere. His large hands massage and manipulate them in a way that shoots straight to my sex.
I can hardly breathe.
He looks up at me again, and while kissing me softly and tenderly, he reaches for my hair, unwinding the knot so it spills down my back in a thick wave. I groan when he teases it free and starts to remove my shirt until it’s on the floor by his.
I lean back on my hands, feeling thoroughly worshipped when he dives and kisses my ribs, hands looking for the zip of my skirt but losing that battle because of how scrunched it is.
I stand and find it at the back, undoing it and letting it fall to my ankles.
There’s no going back now.
I’ve never wanted anything more than I want this.
I stand in front of him in lacy white underwear and stockings attached to a garter belt.
“Fuck,” he breathes, looking down at me, taking time to explore my flesh with his hands. I’ve never felt sexier and more beautiful than I do right now, seeing it mirrored in his eyes. “Keep your heels on.”
He lifts me again, putting me back on the desk.
I gasp when he swipes everything off it behind me and onto the floor, laptop included. He doesn’t even glance at it to see if it’s okay, he just guides me back onto the hard and unforgiving surface and touches me, as though committing every inch of me to his memory.
I writhe beneath his torturous touches, whimpering and moaning as he inspects me with his fingers and palms. Fingers hook around the top of my panties and pull them down. His lips kiss my stomach and then my curve that leads to the place that’s raging with need while he carefully peels my panties over my heels.
I whimper when he kisses his way back up my body, stopping to look at me again, so exposed and vulnerable. I almost want to cover up.
“Has there ever been a woman more beautiful?” he asks, and I relax, feeling more comfortable in my own skin.
He grabs my hand and pulls me up to sitting. We kiss again, more desperately this time. Like when we first started. I’ve never wanted somebody inside of me like this before.
I push my hand between us and under the fabric of his pants. It’s a tight squeeze but I grasp his cock and balk at the size. He’s so thick, heavy, and solid in my hand. Like steel. Silky, hot, steel.
His answering groan is so primal and needy. He rips my hand free, back to being feral again and shoves his pants down, stepping out of them a moment later.
Pulling me to the edge of the desk, he lines himself up with me perfectly as my fingers find my clit and start to roll it in fast circles.
“No,” he whispers, pulling my hand away and replacing it with his thumb. “You touch yourself when you’re alone and thinking of me. When you’re with me, it’s my job to touch you and get you off.”
Oh my God.
He starts to sink inside and groans. I ache from his width, but it feels so good.
His thumb rolls my clit, using my own juices to make it slick.
He watches himself vanish into my body. I’ve never felt more connected to somebody than I do now.
“There are so many ways I’ve wanted to do this for so long… I want to hold you, press you into a bed, up a wall, watch you as you ride me, but I can’t take my eyes off you. I don’t want to miss a second of this. So I’m going to watch as I fuck you with your legs spread for me, a fucking fantasy come true.”
His words make me blush and whimper with ecstasy all at the same time.
He kisses me gently, savoring my lips as he holds himself inside of me to the hilt.
“Lie back,” he whispers, pressing on my chest with his hand until my back is arched against the cool wood and my hair is fanning around my face. “You’re stunning… and you feel like fucking heaven.”
I smile and squeeze him down below, making his eyes flutter closed.
He starts to thrust, slowly at first, then faster and more powerful. My body rocks on the desk and his thighs slap against my ass cheeks. He hooks my leg over his arm, keeping it high as his thumb circles that tiny bundle of nerves that is making me want to scream out in pleasure.
I’m close already. I can feel every part of his cock as he moves in and out of me and it is so fucking erotic.
He changes his pace and angle making it even more enjoyable.
Then I’m being yanked up again and his lips are on my neck as I pant and mewl. This is too much. I can hardly breathe. I dig my fingers into his back and tangle the rest in his soft hair.
“Kiss me,” I beg, my voice hoarse and wanting.
He obliges, fucking my mouth with his tongue as I battle to stay in control of my body.
“Not yet,” I breathe, feeling that familiar burning… except this feels more like a tsunami of crackling lava in my womb. My body feels weightless as he hammers into me, holding my body tight to him now. His thumb is no longer teasing my clit, yet I feel the tingles still, building and spiraling. There’s just something about close sex, having a body against yours as he fills you up perfectly.
I throw my head back with a moan so loud he yanks me back to his mouth and kisses me until it passes. It takes forever and my body shudders with each powerful wave of my orgasm.
He follows shortly after, choking out a cry that I too smother with my lips.
These offices aren’t known for being soundproof. We can’t risk getting caught.
His thrusts slow, his body jerks, and then he stops completely and holds my body to his and presses his forehead to mine.
“Nine hundred and fifty-eight,” I breathe, and he laughs gently.
“I hope that’s a rating out of ten,” he jests, knowing perfectly well what that number means, kissing me again like he just can’t get enough.
I kiss him back but only for a moment, and then I pull away.
The reality of what we just did hits me as the euphoria ebbs away, ta
king with it my dignity and bringing with it a wave of pain.
“We have to get back to work,” I sadly point out, feeling my eyes fill with tears as I stand, cringing at the mess between my thighs. I forgot to make him wear a condom. We are so fucking dangerous together. I never forgot with Pax. “You have a meeting in less than eight minutes.”
“Don’t quit,” he begs on a pained whisper, chest rising and falling visibly. “Please… don’t leave me.”
I know he doesn’t mean the office, and is instead talking about something else entirely.
The tears fall and my shame sinks in. He wraps his arms around me from behind, desperate to hold on. But hold on to what?
I accept his embrace and his warmth for as long as time will allow. Then I pull free and enter the bathroom to clean myself up.
Things just got real and in a bad way. Today will mark the day that Mr. Conti cheated on his wife. And today will definitely mark the day that I fell in love for the first time.
We dress in silence, neatening each other up. I straighten his tie and push back his hair; he pulls my skirt up over my shirt, smooths it down my thighs, and wraps his arms around me to zip it up at the back. When his lips touch my jaw, I giggle because it tickles and immediately feel shame for finding joy with him after such a sordid act.
He kisses my lips, biting and sucking at my lower one, smiling too like he never has before.
“I adore you,” he breathes, kissing me firmer immediately afterwards. “Everything about you.”
“I adore you too,” I reply, feeling my eyes fill with tears again.
“We’ll talk later, okay? After work.”
I nod, pulling him back to me for another kiss. I don’t want to lose this feeling yet, not yet. The euphoria of the most incredibly intense sex I have ever had in my life and probably ever will have is still lingering and though the shame is there it doesn’t outweigh how amazing I still feel.
He hums against my mouth, gripping the curve of my back. He’s hard again, his cock throbs impatiently between us.
There’s a knock at the door forcing us to rip apart.
I open it, smiling at his business associate. After I’ve greeted him, I turn back to Mr. C and watch him tear up the envelope that I put back on his desk after helping him pick up his belongings before we dressed. He said he wanted to see me in my lingerie for as long as possible. I granted him that wish.
He tosses the remnants of my resignation into the trash and winks at me after looking me up and down with heavy eyes. I feel thoroughly undressed and caressed again.
“Morning, Mr. Freeman. It has been a while.”
I leave his office, leaving them to their business.
I’m still throbbing between my thighs. How is that possible?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Our bodies fit perfectly together.
“Hungry?” Ezra asks after leaving his office with his briefcase in his hand and his jacket slung over his arm.
I nod. I’m not actually all that hungry but we do need to talk.
He winks at me and nods for me to follow him.
I was going to anyway, he’s my ride since I have no car.
We walk side by side to the elevator, I tap on my phone, finishing a few things that I didn’t get a chance to finish today.
He doesn’t stand close to me, doesn’t touch me, doesn’t speak to me. It’s as though now that we’ve had sex, everything has become taboo in public.
“What do you feel like eating?” he asks, and desire flares up in me again.
“I don’t mind. I’m not really hungry.”
“I’m starving,” he answers, grinning at me. He looks so content and boyish, like he just had the best birthday of his life, age nine. “Tacos?”
“Sure,” I murmur, and the elevator doors open. He guides me out with a hand on the small of my back and even just that touch feels so forbidden and arousing. As if sensing it too he glances at me, his smile gone, another more feral look in its place.
“Or we could skip dinner,” he suggests as we walk through the crowded lobby. Everybody is leaving for the day.
“We should discuss the… umm… offer that we received today. Dinner sounds like a good place to discuss it.”
“Okay, Miss Cryptic,” he mutters in my ear. I shove him away from me, laughing, feeling a little bit more like the version of me before I had sex with my married boss on his desk like so many fucking fantasies on the internet. “Should we make our own code?”
“Absolutely not,” I hiss, feeling panicked. I bite hard on my lip and click my fingers continuously. He allows it, likely daring not to touch my hand in front of everybody who knows who he is and that he’s married. Before, when we casually touched, it was innocent, there was nothing going on so if people questioned it our answers would be genuine. Now though… now if people question it, we’d have to lie.
It’s insane how just one action can flip your entire relationship into something totally different.
We make our way to his car in silence which is parked at the front of the lot. He has his own reserved space by the building. I have my own next to his. Or I did, when I had a car.
He opens my door for me and waits for me to climb inside, then rushes around to his. We sit for a moment, watching other cars line behind us, their headlights blinding me in the rearview mirror.
“You look distraught.” And he has finally broken the silence, with the wrong word.
“Confused,” I correct, “conflicted, ashamed, angry, sad…”
His face falls. “That bad, huh?”
“But also, elated, relieved, passionate…”
“I th—"
“I’m terrified too. Of you. Of me.”
“Of us?”
“Why’d you have to be married?” I whisper as though saying it any louder will make others hear it too. We’re alone in the car, but I’m still worried somebody might hear us. “I can’t have an affair with you, Ezra.”
Our eyes connect, his almost a darker gray in this low lighting but no less vibrant. “Me neither. I can’t… I don’t want to hurt Elizabeth.” He rubs his face with his hands and rests his head back as far as the headrest will allow.
“I know.”
“But I don’t want to lose you.”
I squeeze his hand on the gear stick. “I know. But…” I notice Pax walking out of the building and towards the parking lot. “Drive. Let’s talk about this somewhere else.”
He glares at Pax as he backs out of his space and drives us to location unknown. Pax doesn’t even glance our way, I’m not sure he saw us.
“I’m leaving your mom’s tomorrow, I’m going home.”
“Oh? Are you sure that’s safe?”
I nod. “The police called today after we umm…”
“Did the number six.”
I giggle snort and slap his thigh. “Oh God. I knew that’s what you meant that night in the hotel.”
“I was just teasing you.”
“It wasn’t teasing, it was torture.”
“You felt it too?”
I look at his profile as he drives. “Felt what?”
“The chemistry between us.”
I roll my eyes and try not to laugh. “I didn’t peg you as poetic, Mr. Conti.”
“I’m a romantic at heart.”
“So you believe in true love?” I’m joking when I ask but when he looks at me his eyes are serious and his posture has tensed.
“I didn’t—"
I slap my hand over his mouth. “Don’t you dare say something super corny right now.”
He laughs loudly, not upset in the slightest. Then he brings my hand back to his lips and kisses it, reminding me of when he did that to his wife. I pull it away and tap it on my thigh, my shame resurfacing. “I didn’t expect that to happen.”
“It wasn’t exactly on my list of things to do for the day either.”
“I didn’t realize you felt the same way, I honestly thought you’d slap me. Or was it just�
�� sex for you?” His eyes flicker to me and then back to the road.
“I’m not answering that question. It’s better left in the past with the number six.”
We fall silent for a while because we both know how wrong this is. How can we even try to justify this with words when there’s the chance that so many people are going to get seriously hurt.
“You know this can never happen again,” I say firmly, and he grips my thigh and slides his hand up my skirt. I inhale sharply and grab his wrist to stop this torture. “I’m serious, Ezra.”
“I love it when you say my name,” he mumbles as his hand slides even higher, reaching the edge of my stockings. “Do you always wear underwear like this?”
“Stooop,” I beg, my tone happy and long as I try to push his hand away.
“Do you?”
“Yes,” I gasp, gripping the seat either side of my thighs when he strokes my slit through my panties with a strong finger. “Don’t… anybody could see.”
“We’re in a moving car,” he points out, amused.
“We could crash and die.”
He has to remove his hand to turn a corner and I quickly pull my skirt back down and blow out a calming breath. “We need to go somewhere quiet so we can talk.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” I state simply. “I don’t want to talk. I just want to draw a line under it and move on.”
He frowns, his handsome face looking frustrated. “You didn’t enjoy yourself?”
“What?” I blink at him, jaw dropping, and eyebrows raised. “Are you crazy? Did you not… were you not in the room? This isn’t about whether I enjoyed it or not. It’s about the fact that I just helped you cheat on your wife and you’re acting like you don’t even have one.”
Finally the realization of the reality of all of this sinks in and his face contorts with pain. “Elizabeth… God… I.”
“Exactly,” I mutter and look out of the window.
“I forget about my life when I’m with you. How terrible is that?”
“Extremely.” I say the word but truly my heart skips a beat at his admission. I have that much power over him. The power to make him forget. I can relate.
Becoming His Mistress Page 20