“It’s good.” She sounds winded, her forehead pressed against my shoulder. If I wasn’t wearing this fucking shirt, I’d feel her skin against mine. “Oh, gosh. So good.”

We’re back to gosh then—back to prim and proper. But I swear to god, I will draw more curse words from her yet.

I feed her another inch.

Kara lets out a squeak.

“You feel so right.” I’m not a chatty man usually, but with my cock inside her, I can’t stop talking. Can’t stop this steam of consciousness, this landslide of fervent praise. “Like you were built for me. So fucking perfect. Yeah, grip me, princess. Squeeze me tighter.”

Kara’s pussy clamps around my cock, and I tip my head back, ears ringing, my laughter light. It’s so damn sunny in here, like we’re fucking above the clouds.

My girl grips two handfuls of my waistcoat, clinging tight. Her breaths come heavy as she presses her words against my throat. “Go—Galen. Go deeper.”

Yes, ma’am.

It’s the greatest privilege of my life to draw slowly out, then sink my shaft inside her. Deeper and deeper, in and out, on and on, until the desk rocks beneath us and Kara’s rolling her hips, tilting to meet each thrust. Our hands are everywhere, roaming and greedy, and our breaths mingle as we kiss—draw back—kiss again.

I never dreamed I could get this lucky.

“You know how many times I thought of this?” My thrusts turn rougher, a little mean, but Kara doesn’t mind. She lets out a moan, low and throaty, and rolls her hips to meet me. “You know many times I wanted to bend you over this fucking desk, princess? How many times I wanted to stretch you out on that conference table with everyone looking, so I could tear your shirt open and suck on these tits? God. You know how many times I nearly lifted your skirt and sank into you in the back of that fucking car?”

These aren’t the right things to say. They’re too raw, too primal.

Too honest.

And Kara deserves sweet things, gentlemanly things, but she turns me into a goddamn beast. I want her so badly. Need her so badly. Even right this second, with my cock buried inside her and her taste on my lips, it’s not enough.

It will never be enough.

“Touch yourself.” I know I should do it, but I’m a greedy man. I want to see how Kara likes it when she’s alone. “Show me how you get yourself off.”

Slender fingers swirl between us, her fingertips brushing against my plunging cock, and I tilt back, staring. Ruined. She’s so neat and precise in her movement, even in this, and it’s giving me heartburn.

Spasms flutter through her pussy. Kara grips me tighter, then lets out a whine. Her fingers circle faster, her breaths frantic.

“Do it,” I grind out, fucking my assistant harder against the desk. “Do it, Kara. Come for me.”

This is only the first time, I remind myself. It’s the only way to fight back the panic; the wild urge to stop her, to drag it out longer, to make this last for days and weeks and months and years.