Page 100 of Raff
Two of his fingers surged inside me.
Everything else dissolved but him, his touch, the pulsing need in the air between us.
My hips rocked as his fingers thrust, but it wasn’t enough, wasn’t what we both knew I wanted.
“Rafe…”
Heat flared in his eyes.
Then his hand was sliding out of my panties.
His control had completely snapped.
One second I was in my chair; the next, he had me out of it and on my desk, my skirt hiked up, my panties sliding off my ankles.
“Say it,” he demanded as he pulled the condom out of his wallet. “Say you’ve been thinking of me,” he clarified. My gaze followed his hand as it went to his jeans, working the button and zipper down, then reaching inside.
“I’ve been thinking of you,” I whispered.
“Yeah, you have,” he agreed, fisting his cock and stroking it as his other hand teased my clit, making my chest go tight. “Now tell me what you want.”
I lost his hand then as he made quick work of the condom.
“No,” he demanded when I squeezed my thighs shut. “Keep your legs spread for me.”
A soft whimper escaped me as I let my legs fall back open.
“I could ease the ache,” he said, hands sliding up and down my thighs. “Just tell me what you want.”
“You.”
That had a rumble moving through his chest as his gaze went soft.
“Close,” he said. “But that’s not all the words. What do you want?”
“I want you to fuck me.”
I barely had time to draw in a breath before he surged deep inside me in one long stroke.
Any restraint remaining in either of us snapped.
It was all heat and movement and feral sounds as he fucked me—hard and fast—driving me relentlessly toward that edge before sending me mercilessly over.
I barely got a chance to feel the pulsations of pleasure ease before he was sliding away, grabbing, then turning me, bending me over the desk and surging back inside me.
I didn’t even recognize the sound that escaped me then—something low and animalistic.
Raff’s hands went to my hips, using them to slam me back into him as he thrust forward. I had to grab the edge of my desk to keep from flying over it with each movement.
The room filled with sound—my moans, his groans, the sounds of our bodies slamming together.
“No,” he demanded when I pressed my lips into my arm, trying to muffle my sounds. “I want to hear you when you moan for me.”
I shattered apart at that, the orgasm stealing my breath, my voice, and the edges of my vision as it shot through me.
I thought he was done with me then, but when I came back down, I found him still hard inside me.
His hands moved out, grabbing me under each arm and pulling me up until my back was against his front.
