Page 118 of Offside

She turned her head just enough to look at me over her shoulder. Her eyes were dark and her voice came out completely wrecked. “Yes. Please.”

The please undid me. I was painfully hard now and needed inside her. “Oh, that’s my good girl,” I whispered as I slid her panties down her legs and helped her step out of them. I pocketed them without comment. Then I moved my hand between her thighs, two fingers through her, slow, and the sound that came out of her went straight to my cock. She was soaked. I pulled my fingers back and brought them to my mouth before she could say a word.

She watched me do it over her shoulder. Her lips parted.

“Ryan.”

I finished undoing my belt and unzipped my jeans, the sound loud in the silent room as I let my cock free. I stroked myself twice then demanded in a low voice, “Grip the desk.”

She turned back to face the desk and her hands found the edge. I tapped the inside of her foot so she’d open her legs just a bit more and spread her ass cheeks apart a bit and thrust inside her in one slow, deep push. We both went completely still—the fullness of it, the relief of it, three hours of pretending condensed down to a single point as her pussy gripped my shaft.

“Fuck, Maren,” I hissed.

Then she exhaled hard and rolled her hips back against me and said, low and urgent, “Fuck me, Ryan. Now.”

I did.

The pace was never going to be gentle and neither of us wanted it to be. Deep, driving, my hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave a mark, the desk solid under her palms, the bass from the bar pulsing through the wood in time with everything. She dropped her head forward and her hair fell and I could see the necklace swing with the rhythm of our movements and I nearly lost my mind entirely.

“Touch your clit,” I said against her neck. “Don’t stop.” I needed her to get there.

Her hand lowered between her thighs and she clenched around me so hard I had to stop moving for a second and breathe through it.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she gritted out.

I kept going. Slid one hand up the curve of her ass, spread her wider, and let my thumb drift to the cleft of her—just the pad of it, barely there, light as a question.

She went completely still. Gasped, then shivered.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?” My words were low, steady. A real question as I continued to thrust deep and hard into her pussy.

Her knuckles went white on the edge of the desk.

“N-no,” she said. Quiet. Wrecked.

“Do you want me to?”

The bass pulsed. Four minutes. Maybe three. Her fingers were still moving and I was still buried inside her and neither of us was breathing.

“Yes.” So quiet I almost missed it.

I kept the pressure exactly where it was, then just barely a bit more—unhurried, present, the suggestion more than the act—and felt her whole body respond to the combination of it. What I was doing, what she was doing, that thumb at the spot nobody had ever been before.

“I’m going to fuck you here,” I said against her ear. Low. Certain. Not a question. “Not tonight. But soon.”

She clenched around me so hard I lost my rhythm entirely.

“Oh,” I said. “Does my good girl want that?”

“Yes.” Shaking. Barely a word. “Yes.” She was so fucking close, and I was too. Ready to lose my mind.

“Yeah.” I pressed my thumb deeper, then pulled it out, and back in again—and drove into her harder when I sensed her letting herself go entirely.

“Fuck,” she breathed. “That feels so… Oh god. Don’t stop—Ryan—I’m going to⁠—”

I pressed my mouth to her neck and demanded, “Come on my cock. Right now, baby. Take it all.”

She shattered. Her whole body seized and clenched and she lowered her face to the desk, burying it in her forearm to kill the sound and I worked her through every wave of it without easing up, and when she finally went boneless against the desk I followed her over the edge with my hips flush against her and my vision going completely white and her name in my mouth like the only word I had left. “Maren—” I groaned as I emptied myself into her, my vision going black at the edges. “Fuck, baby.”