The Last Name I'll Ever Take

Stripping the Mask

The handle rattled again, a sharp, metallic demand for entry that vibrated through the glass and directly into my spine. My heart was a panicked bird trapped in my chest, but my body was a traitor, melting under the savage weight of Cormac Blackwood.

"Mr. Blackwood?" the officer’s voice came again, muffled by the heavy door but dangerously close. "We’re coming in."

Cormac didn’t flinch. If anything, the threat of being caught only fueled the darkness in his silver eyes. He gripped my hips, his fingers digging into the purple bruises he’d left hours before, and shifted his weight. He wasn't just f*****g me; he was reclaiming a territory he believed he owned by right of conquest.

"Not yet," he hissed against my ear, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.

He slowed his pace, but the depth of each thrust increased, his thick, rigid c**k sliding against my inner walls with a slow, agonising friction that made my vision blur. He reached up, his large hand covering my mouth to stifle the sob of pleasure building in my throat. With his other hand, he reached down between our joined bodies, his thumb finding my c******s through the slick heat.

The sensation was a violent overload. I was pinned between the cold glass of the door and the furnace of his chest, my black lace lingerie pushed aside, my boobs bouncing with every heavy movement of his body. He began to circle his thumb, a rhythmic, punishing pressure that sent white-hot sparks behind my eyelids.

I bit into the palm of his hand, my muffled moans vibrating against his skin as he drove himself deeper, hitting my cervix with a relentless, territorial force. I could feel the individual ridges of him, the way he filled every empty space inside me until I felt like I was stretching, breaking, and being reborn all at once.

"Keep your eyes on me, Saoirse," he commanded, his voice a lethal whisper.

I looked. His face was a mask of raw, unfiltered lust and dominance. He watched the way my eyes rolled back, watched the way my chest heaved, my hardened n*****s scraping against the fine wool of his waistcoat. He began to pick up the speed, the slow grind turning into a frantic, wet slapping sound that seemed loud enough to wake the dead.

Every act was deliberate. He pulled nearly all the way out, teasing the very edge of my entrance until I whimped for him to return, before slamming back home with a force that rattled the desk. He repeated this—the agonising withdrawal and the brutal return—until I was clawing at his shoulders, my nails drawing thin red lines down his back.

I felt the orgasm coming like a tidal wave. It started in my toes and coiled upward, a tightening of my internal muscles that gripped him with a desperate, clenching heat. Cormac felt it, too. He let out a low, guttural growl, his movements becoming primal and erratic. He let go of my mouth, his hand moving to my throat, not to choke, but to anchor me as he delivered the final, bone-shaking thrusts.

"Look at the door," he whispered, his teeth grazing my earlobe. "Look at how close they are while I own you."

I looked at the frosted shadow of the officer, and the sheer, forbidden terror of it pushed me over the edge. I came with a violent, silent scream, my body racking with tremors as I squeezed his c**k with everything I had. Cormac followed a second later, his body stiffening as he released a hot, branding flood deep inside me, his forehead dropping to my shoulder as he gasped for air.

The silence that followed was deafening.

"Mr. Blackwood! Open this door now or we will breach!"

Cormac pulled out of me with a wet, heavy sound that made me shiver. He didn't look flustered. He calmly zipped his fly, adjusted his waistcoat, and looked down at me. I was a wreck—my dress hiked to my waist, my boobs still flushed and heaving, my lace lingerie damp and ruined.

"Fix yourself," he said, his voice cold and professional once more. "You have thirty seconds before I let the wolves in."

I scrambled off the desk, my legs nearly giving way. I shoved my dress down, the ruined silk itching against my skin. I didn't have time to find my underwear; I simply smoothed my hair and tried to wipe the look of a woman who had just been thoroughly f****d from my face.

Cormac walked to the door and turned the lock. He swung it open with an expression of bored annoyance.

"Finally," the officer snapped, stepping into the room with two others. "What took so long?"

"My secretary was having a panic attack due to your aggressive 'investigation'," Cormac lied, his voice smooth and dangerous. He stepped aside, gesturing toward the server rack. "Take what you need. But if you damage a single circuit, my lawyers will have your badges by dinner."

The officers moved past us, their eyes lingering on me for a second too long. I stood by the window, my back to the room, my heart still racing. I could still feel the warmth of him dripping down my thigh, a secret, sticky reminder of my failure.

I had the safe code. I had the location of the ledger. But as I looked at Cormac—standing there with his hands in his pockets, looking like the king of the world—I realized the safe code wasn't the most dangerous thing I'd stolen.

It was the look in his eyes when he’d called me Saoirse.

He didn't just know who I was. He had been waiting for me to return. And the police weren't here for the documents. They were a show—a test to see if I would break.

I turned my head slightly, catching Cormac’s gaze. He wasn't looking at the officers. He was looking at the bruises on my hips, a cruel, possessive smirk playing on his lips.

"Lana," he said, his voice soft but carrying a hidden blade. "Go to my penthouse. Wait for me there. We have a lot more to discuss regarding your... performance."

I realized then that the boardroom wasn't the battlefield. The penthouse was the execution chamber.

As I walked out, I passed Róisín in the hallway. She looked at my ruined dress, her eyes narrowing with a sharp, murderous realization.

"You're a dead woman walking, O’Malley," she whispered as I passed.

The elevator doors closed, but the nightmare was only just beginning.