Bound To Him

Chapter 2: Locked In

The elevator doors slid open again, this time onto the 34th floor—a wide corridor lined with brushed steel and frosted glass. Dominic took her hand without asking, fingers threading through hers, and pulled her out into the hallway.

Aria followed without hesitation. Her heels clicked against the polished concrete floor, each step echoing in the quiet space. The floor was mostly empty, desks abandoned, the distant hum of computers the only sign of life.

Where is everyone?

She didn't ask.

Dominic moved with purpose, his grip firm on her hand, leading her past a row of offices until he stopped at a corner door—dark wood, brass handle, no nameplate. He pressed his thumb to a scanner, and the lock clicked open.

His office.

He pushed the door wide and stepped aside, letting her enter first.

The room was massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides, overlooking the city skyline smeared with dusk lights. A sleek desk dominated the center, but it was the leather sofa against the far wall that caught her eye. Low. Wide. Obvious.

Dominic closed the door behind him. The lock engaged with a soft snick.

Aria turned to face him, her pulse hammering in her throat. You said you had a meeting in ten minutes.

"I lied"

He crossed the room slowly, each step deliberate, his eyes never leaving hers. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair, then loosened his tie with one hand, pulling it free from the collar.

You said you wanted to hear what I have to say, she managed, her voice thinner than she wanted.

I do. He stopped in front of her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. "After."

His hand came up, cupping her face, thumb tracing her lower lip. She parted her mouth instinctively, and he pressed inside, the rough pad of his thumb sliding over her tongue.

"Suck."

The command was soft, but absolute.

She obeyed.

Her lips closed around his thumb, her tongue swirling, tasting the salt of his skin. His eyes darkened, pupils dilating. He watched her mouth work, watched the way her cheeks hollowed, and a low sound rumbled in his chest.

"That's it."

He withdrew his thumb slowly, dragging it across her bottom lip, leaving a wet sheen. Then his hand moved to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair, and he pulled her into a kiss—deep, hungry, consuming.

She moaned into his mouth as his other hand found her waist, gripping the fabric of her blazer and pulling her flush against him. His c**k was hard against her stomach, thick through his trousers, and she pressed into it deliberately.

He grunted against her lips. "Impatient."

"So are you."

He laughed—a dark, breathless sound—and spun her around, pressing her front against the edge of his desk. The wood was cold through her skirt, a sharp contrast to the heat building between her thighs.

Hands on the desk,he ordered.

She obeyed, palms flat on the polished surface. Her reflection stared back at her from the dark glass of the window in front of her—flushed cheeks, half-lidded eyes, lips swollen from his kisses.

He stood behind her, one hand on her hip, the other slowly pushing her skirt up her thighs. The fabric bunched around her waist, exposing her black lace panties, the damp spot already dark at the center.

"f**k," he breathed. You're already wet.

Aria bit her lip. "I told you. The tension. It's been building all day."

His fingers traced the edge of her panties, teasing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. No. Since the lobby. Since you looked at me like you wanted to devour me.

"I did."

"I know." His finger slipped beneath the lace, sliding through her wet folds, coating himself in her slickness. And I wanted the same thing.

She gasped as he circled her c**t—slow, torturous circles that made her knees buckle. He held her steady with one hand pressed flat against her lower back.

"Dominic—"

You're going to come for me, he said, his voice low and rough. Before I even take my c**k out. I want to feel you fall apart on my fingers first.

He pushed two fingers inside her without warning.

Aria cried out, her knuckles white against the desk. His fingers curled, hitting that spot inside her that made stars burst behind her eyes, and he pumped into her with a rhythm that was rough, demanding, perfect.

"That's it," he growled, his thumb pressing against her c**t. Let go. Come for me.

She shattered.

Her body convulsed, a choked sob escaping her throat as her walls clenched around his fingers. He didn't stop, didn't slow, working her through every wave of pleasure until she was shaking, gasping, barely holding herself upright.

Only then did he withdraw.

She heard the click of his belt, the rasp of his zipper. She turned her head, watched him free his c**k—long, thick, the head flushed dark and glistening with a bead of precum.

He stroked himself once, twice, then stepped behind her again.

Spread your legs wider.

She did.

He pressed the head of his c**k against her entrance, not pushing in, just resting there, teasing. She could feel every ridge, every pulse of blood.

Look at yourself, he said, nodding toward the window. Look at how badly you want this.

She met her own reflection. Hair mussed, blouse half-untucked, skirt bunched around her hips. Her eyes were dark with want, lips parted.

I want it, she whispered.

I know.

He thrust inside her in one smooth, brutal motion.

Aria screamed.

Not from pain—he was thick, but she was slick and ready—from the sheer overwhelming fullness of him. He filled her completely, stretching her, claiming her. He paused when he was buried to the hilt, his balls pressed against her damp cunt, his chest heaving against her back.

Look at us, he murmured, his lips against her ear. Look at how perfectly you take me.

She watched in the reflection. His hips were flush against her ass, his hand gripping her hip hard enough to bruise. Her body trembled around him, her cunt clenching and releasing in helpless spasms.

He began to move.

Slow at first. Deep, grinding strokes that dragged against every sensitive nerve. His hand slid from her hip to her c**t, rubbing in tight circles as he f****d her.

Your p***y is gripping me so tight, he groaned. You love this, don't you?

Yes," she gasped. "Yes, Dominic—

He picked up the pace, slamming into her now, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the office. The desk creaked beneath them. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, her n*****s scraping against the wood.

I'm close, she whimpered.

Again? Already?

You make me—f**k—you make me want to come over and over—

He growled, his hips losing rhythm, his breathing ragged. Come with me. Right now. Come on my c**k.

He drove into her hard, deep, grinding against her c**t with every thrust, and she came again—violent, blinding, her vision going white as she screamed his name.

He followed a second later, his body shuddering, hot c*m flooding inside her, filling her so full she felt it drip down her thighs.

He stayed buried inside her, breathing hard, his forehead pressed between her shoulder blades.

Neither of them moved for a long moment.

Then Dominic pulled out slowly, and Aria felt the loss like an ache. She turned, legs shaky, and faced him.

His c**k was still half-hard, glistening with their combined release. His shirt was rumpled, his hair slightly disheveled. He looked nothing like the controlled man who had walked through the lobby.

He looked like he had just claimed something.

And maybe he had.

Your meeting,she said, her voice hoarse. You said ten minutes.

Dominic smiled—a real smile, tired and satisfied. Plenty of time.

He reached for her hand, pulled her close, and kissed her forehead.

Now tell me what you came here to say.