Desk Duty
1069 Words
Dominic’s mouth was fire.
Ava had expected his kiss to be powerful—every inch of him radiated control—but nothing could have prepared her for the way his lips consumed hers, for the way his tongue moved with practiced precision, coaxing her open, demanding everything.
Her back arched instinctively, and in the next breath she was no longer in the chair. He had scooped her up with an effortless strength that left her gasping, her laptop sliding sideways. Then her body hit the desk, papers scattering like fallen leaves, pens clattering to the floor, reports crumpling beneath her weight.
“Dominic—” she tried, voice breaking between protest and need.
But he silenced her with another kiss, deeper, rougher, stealing the words from her lips. His hand slid beneath her blouse, fingers dragging over bare skin. Her blouse was silk, but compared to his touch, it might as well have been sandpaper—every nerve beneath her skin came alive at his command.
“Do you know what you’ve done?” he murmured against her mouth, his breath hot. His other hand gripped her hip, pinning her in place.
Her words trembled. “I don’t—”
“You knew,” he growled, tugging her skirt higher, baring more of her thighs to the cool office air. “The moment you put this on, you knew what would happen.”
Her mind screamed denial. She had chosen the skirt because it was professional, sharp. But her body betrayed her—her legs shifting wider, her breath hitching.
“You wore this for me.” His voice was a low, dangerous rasp.
She couldn’t answer. Not with his hand sliding up, fingers brushing silk between her thighs, teasing the dampness already betraying her. Her head tipped back, a broken moan escaping.
Dominic’s laugh was dark, satisfied. “That’s what I thought.”
He tugged the blouse open with sudden force, buttons popping, silk tearing under his grip. Ava gasped, scandalized, her arms instinctively covering herself.
“Don’t.” His command was sharp, ironclad. He caught her wrists, pressing them above her head against the desk. His gaze roamed her body—the lace bra, delicate and barely containing her breasts. “Don’t ever hide from me.”
Her chest heaved as his hands left hers, tracing down, palms cupping her breasts with reverent greed. He kneaded, thumb circling until her n*****s tightened beneath the lace. Then, with one impatient move, he yanked the lace down, baring her to the cool air and his hungry stare.
“God, Ava,” he muttered before lowering his mouth. His lips closed around one aching peak, his tongue swirling, sucking, drawing gasps and whimpers she could no longer suppress. His free hand pinched and teased the other, alternating pleasure and pain until her back arched helplessly off the desk.
“Dominic—someone—” She tried to form a coherent thought, tried to cling to reason. “Someone could see.”
He lifted his head, his mouth glistening with her, his eyes dark with lust. “Let them.” His voice was gravel, raw, unrestrained. “Let them know who you belong to.”
The word belong made something inside her tighten, a strange mix of resistance and hunger. She had never belonged to anyone. And yet here, beneath his weight, she felt branded.
In one smooth motion, he pushed her skirt up around her waist. Ava gasped as the cool air met her thighs, but the sensation was lost a moment later when he hooked a finger under the lace of her panties and tugged. The delicate fabric tore as easily as paper, slipping from her hips and falling to the floor like surrender itself.
She wanted to protest, to remind him this was her career, her future, her life. But when he spread her legs, his large hands gripping her thighs, all she could think about was the heat pooling between them.
Dominic’s gaze devoured her. And then he dropped to his knees.
Ava’s breath stuttered. “Dominic, don’t—”
But he did.
His mouth found her in one devastating stroke, tongue flicking across her c**t before sliding lower, tasting, claiming. Ava cried out, her hands scrambling for purchase on the glass desk, nails scraping against the smooth surface.
His hands clamped her hips down, holding her still. She writhed anyway, unable to stop herself, her legs trembling as his tongue worked her with merciless precision. He licked, sucked, teased, each movement deliberate, each moan she gave him a victory he savored.
The pressure built too quickly, too fiercely. Ava’s thighs squeezed around his head, her breath shattering into gasps. She tried to hold back, tried to stop the inevitable, but he growled against her, the vibration sending her spiraling over the edge.
Her climax tore through her like a storm. She convulsed, the office echoing with her cries, glass walls reverberating with the sound of her surrender. Her body trembled uncontrollably as Dominic’s tongue drank her down, relentless, dragging every last wave of pleasure from her until she lay spent and shaking.
When he finally rose, his lips glistened with her. He leaned over, capturing her mouth in a kiss that made her taste herself on his tongue. She moaned again, the intimacy of it as overwhelming as the act itself.
His hand curled around her throat, not squeezing, just holding her still, making her look into his eyes. They were molten, feral, unreadable.
“You’re mine now,” he said simply.
Her pulse thundered beneath his grip. She wanted to deny it. She wanted to tell him she wasn’t anyone’s. But her silence betrayed her again.
Dominic smirked, satisfied. He straightened, fingers moving to his belt. The metallic click echoed in the office, loud, final.
“Now,” he said, his voice deep, commanding. “Get on your knees. It’s your turn.”
The words struck through her like lightning. Her body obeyed before her mind could argue. She slid from the desk, her blouse hanging open, skirt bunched at her waist, stockings torn. The cold tile floor bit into her knees, but she barely felt it.
All she felt was him.
All she heard was his voice, the order she couldn’t refuse.
And all she knew was that the cage she thought she’d been trapped in wasn’t glass at all.
It was him.
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- Writer
