My Burning Desire by RK

Chapter 7

Janelle's POV

I pull him closer, desperate to feel every single inch of him hard and solid against my body, erasing the chilly distance I had just tried to create in the elevator.

I’ve always been a total sucker for his kisses. It’s like some kind of dark, intoxicating spell he casts over me, instantly short-circuiting every logical thought in my brain. All the fear, all the hesitation about what that public announcement meant for my life, completely evaporates under the heat of his mouth.

Driven by a sudden, fierce urgency, I grab the lapels of his designer jacket and shove it down his arms, letting it drop to the floor. My fingers claw at his shirt, and with a sharp, aggressive jerk, I rip it open. Buttons go flying, pinging off the glass table and scattering across the hardwood foyer with tiny, sharp snaps.

I don't care. My hands press against his warm, muscular chest, and without missing a beat, my fingers reach straight for his belt buckle.

I don't even recognize myself in this moment. It’s wild, reckless, and completely consuming—a deep, ravenous hunger I have never felt before in my life, and I need him to satiate every single drop of it right now.

Oliver shrugs off his pants and boxers in one swift, impatient motion, standing completely bare before me. Even in the dim light of the foyer, he is already standing to attention—hard, heavy, and all-consuming.

As I watch him, a mix of conflicting emotions swirls in my chest. Beneath the raw, overwhelming physical heat, I know deep down that Oliver was protecting me with that sudden marriage proposal tonight. Part of me still wants to bite his head off for springing such a life-altering bombshell in front of the entire company, but an even stronger part wants to show him my total, unfiltered appreciation.

I press a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his throat, skimming my hands across his hard-packed stomach, feeling the steady, heavy thrum of his pulse beneath my fingertips. As I kiss my way down, I sink gracefully onto my knees on the hardwood floor.

Oliver's hand immediately comes up, tangling firmly in my hair to gather my bun, gently but authoritatively directing me right where he wants me. I love pleasuring him. He was the one who taught me how to do this, teaching me every nuance of how to please him and how to take him until neither of us can think straight.

I part my lips and take him in, the heavy, familiar heat of him filling my mouth. A sharp, ragged hiss of my name breaks past Oliver's teeth, his fingers tightening instantly in my hair.

My head starts moving up and down in a steady, hypnotic rhythm, my hands coming up to cup and stroke his sack just like he taught me, learning the exact pressure and pace that makes his breathing hitch. But it doesn't take long for him to reach his limit.

With a low groan, Oliver takes complete control, his hand shifting to firmly guide the rhythm. He begins driving himself deeper into my mouth, thrusting with a measured, deliberate heat—never too far to hurt, never losing control, but hitting that exact, agonizing depth that brings him straight to the edge of his breaking point.

He hauls me up the second he finishes, catching me before my knees can even fully register the weight of what just happened. He crashes his mouth down onto mine in another deep, possessive kiss, swallowing the gasp right off my lips. Without breaking the kiss, his arms slide under my thighs, lifting me effortlessly against his chest as he carries me down the hallway straight toward his bedroom.

He doesn't stop kissing me as he lays me down, his hands working with practiced, feverish speed to strip away the rest of my clothes. As the fabric falls away and my body is completely revealed to him, I can see him hardening all over again, the heavy thrum of his desire echoing mine.

When I’m completely nude, he takes my hand, leading me down to the edge of the mattress and sitting me right at the border. He gently pushes me backward, then reaches for the upholstered footstool, pulling it over so he can sit right between my open legs.

He skips any prolonged foreplay, diving straight in. Warm, heavy breath washes over my sensitive skin before his tongue slides hot and wet directly inside of me, his nose nuzzling firmly against my c**t. Because I was already aroused from pleasuring him, my body is dripping and hyper-sensitive, shivering at the sudden, exquisite contact.

"My p***y," I hear him murmur against me, his voice a deep, gravelly growl of absolute ownership. "Only mine."

As he speaks, he begins working his tongue in and out of me, swirling and flicking in that exact rhythm that he knows makes my brain short-circuit.

"I want to come, Oliver!" I scream, my fingers tangling desperately into the bedsheets as the pleasure spikes too fast, too hard.

"No, not yet," he commands against my skin.

He carries on with his tongue, then seamlessly alternates with his fingers, stretching and teasing me right up to the edge before going back to his mouth, driving me completely out of my mind.

He pulls back just an inch, his dark eyes burning up at me, glistening with my slick. "Look at your juices, gushing out for me. I want to lick every drop of it out of you."

He doesn't hesitate, diving right back in, his tongue sweeping deep and relentless, drinking me in until every last shred of my control shatters into a million pieces.

"Oliver, please, baby, I need to come," I sob, squirming frantically on the mattress, my body thrashing against the crushing intensity of the sensations tearing through me.

Desperation spikes through my haze of pleasure. "If you don't, I'm going to touch myself," I threaten, a breathless, defiant gasp as I slide my hands down toward my hips, reaching for my own p***y.

"No, you won't," he growls, his hand shooting out to slap my wrist away with a sharp, stinging sting of discipline. "This is mine, and I will tell her when to come."

His fingers dive back inside me, stretching and hooking with merciless precision. "You've been a naughty girl tonight, my wildcat," he murmurs darkly against my skin, the vibration of his voice sending a fresh shockwave through my nerves. "Allowing another man to even look at what belongs to me... And dressing up like that. You're lucky you cleared it up with that fool that it wasn't for him."

I arch my back off the sheets, panting. "Why didn't you tell him it was for you?" I snap back through the haze of need.

A low, vibrating growl builds in his chest at my defiance, and he dives right back down with his tongue, punishing and rewarding me all at once, driving me so deep into the madness that I can barely think.

"Oliver, baby, please," I beg, tears of pure overstimulation pricking my eyes as I claw at the sheets. "I'm sorry. Please let me come. Please."

He lifts his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine as he tracks the hot tears of frustration rolling down my temples.

"Please, Oliver," I plead, my voice breaking under the weight of the endless, delicious torture.

He is completely relentless, holding me right on the razor's edge. "Who do you belong to?" he questions, his voice a low, commanding demand that vibrates straight through my chest.

My eyes don't waver from his for a single second, even as my entire body trembles apart.

"To you, Oliver," I gasp out, desperate and undone. "Only you."

A dark, deeply satisfied grin spreads across his face at the answer. He dives back in with his tongue, and right as he hits that exact, perfect rhythm, I feel his thumb press firmly against my core, swirling in slow, punishing circles directly over my hypersensitive c**t.

And before I even have a chance to draw another breath, I shatter. The climax hits me like a freight train, ripping a raw, broken cry from my throat as my hips buck upward off the mattress. He stays right there, his tongue still buried deep inside me, drinking down every single shuddering wave of my release as I unravel completely in his hands.

He climbs up the length of my body, his hands gripping my waist to drag me higher up the mattress until my head hits the plush pillows. My muscles feel entirely liquefied, heavy and boneless from the devastating intensity of the climax, but the dark, restless energy radiating off Oliver makes it instantly clear he is nowhere near finished with me.

I sink back against the sheets, completely at his mercy as he settles heavily between my thighs. Without a word of warning, he positions himself and slides straight inside of me.

A breathless gasp tears from my throat. Even after everything, he feels impossibly large, filling every single inch of me until I am stretched and overflowing with his heat.

Before my racing pulse can even begin to settle, he starts to move. Deep, steady, and relentless strokes that completely obliterate what little energy I had left, dragging me right back up into the fire.