“Everyone knows not to disturb me when I’m in meetings with my executive assistant.” His fingers find me, testing how wet I am. “And you’re very, very wet, Ms. St. Clair.”
I bite my lip to stifle a moan as he positions himself behind me.
“Tell me what you need,” he orders.
His voice has that rough edge, the one that makes my insides melt. I can barely think straight with him pressed against me like this.
“You,” I whisper, arching back. “God, Vince, I need you.”
“Not good enough.” He holds back, teasing, tormenting. “Be specific.”
The bastard knows exactly what he’s doing to me. Every brush of him against my entrance sends sparks shooting up my spine.
“Please,” I whimper. “I need you inside me. Now.”
He pushes inside me with one powerful thrust, and I have to clamp my hand over my m
