Off Limits / Ruled. Anne Marsh

heart is pounding and my blood is gushing. What happened to pretending not to be affected by him? To keeping him at a distance?

      ‘I’d say it’s quicker to get here from City Airport than it is from my place.’

      His voice is barely above a growl. It’s primal and animalistic and a slick of heat runs through me.

      ‘How was Tokyo?’ I skirt around the table, laying information packs down as I go, checking each space has a glass of water.

      He shrugs. ‘Fine. And here?’

      But his eyes are dropping. He’s looking at my breasts as though he wants to take them into his mouth. As though he’s remembering the way it felt to suck my nipple through the fabric of my shirt.

      I moan, low and soft, so soft I don’t think he catches it, but his lips flicker and I am in serious trouble. They are beautiful lips. Not full, but rather sculpted as if from stone. His face is peppered with stubble, as though he hasn’t shaved the whole time he’s been away.

      I turn away, my breath uneven. I don’t know what to do.

      ‘As usual,’ I say, no longer dispassionate, no longer smooth. My voice is jerky and unnatural.

      I want to kiss him.

      I need to kiss him.

      I realise it in an instant and I turn around, back towards him. Our eyes meet and I feel a pulse of heat that I know I’m not imagining. It’s a need so deep, so desperate, that I instantly imagine us fucking on the glass-topped conference table.

      Is he thinking the same thing?

      He takes a step towards me, his eyes latched to mine, his expression almost haunted. I part my lips on a breath and he stops just in front of me, catching that breath with his chest, and I can almost feel his lips on mine. It’s a phantom kiss, but no less mesmerising than a real kiss because he’s so close I can smell him...I can feel the warmth emanating from him.

      ‘Did you get the chocolate bar?’ he asks, and I feel my skin heat with memories.

      I nod.

      ‘Did you miss me?’

      His voice is low and hoarse. I should laugh at him. That’s what I would usually do. So why does his question fill me with a dawning despair? I can’t ignore it. I’m suffocating under the realisation that I have missed him.

      ‘Yeah, right,’ I mutter, hoping it sounds more convincing to him than it does to me. ‘I’ve been sitting in my office pining for you every day. One kiss and I’ve been writing your name in my notebook with little love hearts around it.’

      I roll my eyes for good measure and so miss the moment he narrows his.

      Jack isn’t a man to be mocked. I know that, but honestly I wasn’t intending to goad him. And yet I’m in no way surprised when his mouth crashes down on mine—for real this time, nothing phantom about it.

      His hands pull through my hair, letting it out of the bun I looped it into earlier this morning. His fingers fist around it, holding my head under his so that his mouth has full access to me. And he plunders me. There’s no other way to describe it. His mouth is a weight on mine and his tongue is angry.

      Fierce heat pools between my legs.

      He pulls on my hair as his mouth pushes mine, bending me backwards until my spine is on the conference table.

      ‘Did you miss me?’ It’s a demand now, as he separates my legs and stands between them.

      His cock is hard. I can feel it and unconsciously I writhe lower, trying to press myself against him, to connect myself to him.

      His laugh is a dark imitation of the sound. ‘Not now.’

      It’s a gruff warning, but insanity is cutting across me. I need him. If I don’t have him I am going to scream. Sense is gone. Rational thought impossible. Even my brain seems to have momentarily forgotten itself.

      I’m wearing a grey woollen dress and he rubs his hand over my breast, cupping it, holding me tight as his fingers graze my nipple. The fabric of the dress is coarse and the friction is unbearable.

      His kiss is an insufficient prelude. I need so much more.

      ‘More?’ he murmurs, and I realise I must have spoken aloud.

      He pushes my dress up my legs, and groans when he connects with the lace tops of my stockings. He digs a finger under one of my suspenders and then snaps it, hard, so that I make a sound of complaint. It’s quickly muffled by a groan of pleasure as his fingers find my panties, pulling them roughly down my legs.

      He stares at me and I wonder if I look as wanton as I feel. Hair tumbling around me like a golden halo, face pink, dress hitched up around my waist, legs spread around him.

      His eyes are mocking as they meet mine. ‘Haven’t missed me, huh?’

      I know I should say something sassy, pithy. Put him in his place. If his hard-on is anything to go by he’s missed me, too. Or fantasised about me, at least.

      ‘Like a hole in the head,’ I murmur, but it’s lacking spark.

      He laughs, his hands firm around my calves as he spreads my legs wider, and before I can anticipate what he’s going to do he brings his mouth down on me, running his tongue across my opening, lashing me with that same intensity he’s just kissed me with. He pummels me, his tongue flicks my clit, and I am crumbling. I arch my back and stretch my arms over my head, my whole body trembling as wave after wave of need builds inside me. I’m so close to coming that I have to bite down on my lip to stop myself crying out.

      ‘Have you missed me?’

      He brings his mouth higher, dragging his tongue over my belly button, and his fingers push my dress up my body. His fingers find one of my nipples through the fabric of my lace bra and I jerk, because I am too sensitive already. I am only seconds from falling apart.

      ‘Please...’ I groan, moving my hips nearer to him, needing him to release me from this sensual torture.

      ‘Please what?’ he asks with a quiet anger I don’t understand.

      ‘Please,’ I insist.

      ‘Say it.’

      Our eyes clash; it’s a battle of the wills. I don’t care enough to try to win it. At one time I would have fought tooth and nail, but not now. Now only one thing matters to me.

      ‘Fuck me, Jack.’

      ‘Here? In the boardroom at my office?’

      I am going to hell. I don’t even want to think about what my brain’s going to have to say.

      ‘Yes. Now. Please. Fuck me,’ I whimper, so hot that I need him to do something. To fix this.

      I drop my hand to my clit, but when I touch myself he grabs my wrist and pulls it away.

      ‘No, that’s cheating,’ he whispers, his eyes on me as he loosens his belt and pushes his pants down just enough to release his gorgeous, glorious cock for me to see. I’ve seen it so many times, but now...? It’s for me.

      ‘Please...’

      His eyes hold mine as he layers protection over his length, quickly, easily.

      I push forward on the table, seeking him, and then he thrusts inside me, slamming me hard, and I feel the coiling of a pleasure that I cannot control. It is hot and fierce, and I cry out at the invasion that is so much better than my wildest fantasies.

      His hands on my shoulders pull me up; he’s so strong and I am lost in the moment. He pulls me against him and lifts me off the table so I can take him deeper, and I have a fleeting moment of gratitude for the heavy tint on the windows that surround the boardroom. His cock is spearing me, and I am wrapped around him, and he kisses me again—a kiss of such ownership and possession that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to lie to him again.