“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he murmured in my ear as he thrust hard, earning another cry from me. I braced myself against the edge of the dark wood as he pounded into me, his thrusts shaking my entire body. One hand lifted to my neck, tilting my head back against his shoulder and partially restricting my breathing; it didn’t stop the breathy moans I made as another wave washed over me and my body shuddered for the second time in as many minutes.
My head fell to the side and teeth grazed my neck, running along the line of my shoulder as his hand pulled away the material of my blouse. The soft feel of his lips across my skin was a direct contrast to the hard pumps of his hips, but I reveled in the experience, allowing him to set and control the pace. Two orgasms left my body limp, drained from the experience, but Jeremiah held me up easily in strong arms. I arched myself back against him even though my skin was almost too sensitive for his thrusts, the pleasure too much.
Like before, his teeth sank into my shoulder as he shuddered, his hard thrusts almost lifting me from the floor. He let out a ragged grunt and with one last stab he shook against my back, coming inside me. The hand around my neck released and blood rushed to my head again, making me dizzy. He laid me carefully atop the desk, resting his hard body atop mine as we both struggled to catch our breath.
After a moment he pulled out and stepped away, leaving me alone against the cool wood. It took a moment before I finally became aware of how exposed I was, but I still spent another minute catching my breath before I lowered my skirt. I was wet enough that sitting in the chair would stain my skirt so I wobbled on my heeled pumps, using the desk as a brace.
“That wraps up this interview. By the way, you’re hired.”
Still breathing hard, I turned my head to look over at Jeremiah Hamilton standing at a small coffee bar on one side of the office. His suit and dress pants were back in place, as impeccable as if nothing had just happened. The look on his face was probing and inquisitive, but I couldn’t tell what he thought to discover. I tried to feel shame, anger, outrage at my wanton actions and his taking advantage of my situation, but all I could come up with was a deep exhaustion and sense of security.
I am so screwed.
A hand at my elbow turned me gently, and a glass of water was pressed into my hands. “Go clean yourself up,” Jeremiah said as I took a sip of the cool liquid, his voice as soft as I’d yet heard. “I’ll make arrangements and we can leave once you’ve come back.”
My brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders so I thought perhaps I had missed something. “Arrangements for what?”
“You said you carry your passport with you?”
I blinked, back to being confused. An odd question. “Um, yes, I do?”
He nodded as if that answered everything. “Perfect. Then you’ll come with me today and can serve as my escort.”
I took another sip of the water, still baffled by the direction of this conversation. “Your escort where?”
“Paris. We leave in an hour.”
About The Author
Sara Fawkes has always loved spinning tales. One who’s been writing since she was a little girl (and has the home made books from preschool to prove it), she loves creating stories and characters and interesting messes for them to get into. And for the handsome guy to always get the girl in the end. An avid traveler and adventure motorcyclist, her dream job includes selling everything off and leaving civilization to see the world on two wheels, writing in cafes in each country she visits, and living off her writing. In the meantime however, she lives in California with her menagerie of pets and, when not writing, loves to rebuild old motorcycles/cars and practice her fiddle. You can find her online at http://sarawriteserotica.wordpress.com talking about whatever strikes her fancy.
