Getting Off His Naughty List : Curves for Christmas, Book 3 by Layne Daniels

Author:Layne Daniels [Daniels, Layne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-10-26T16:00:00+00:00

11

Lumi

Maybe, it’s unfair for me to push Callum to speak to me, but ever since Jonah confided Callum is capable of speech, I’ve felt a need to hear his voice. I could ask around and get the story of why he doesn’t. I don’t feel like I need an explanation, though. Whatever caused Callum to go silent, it doesn’t matter. All I care about now is the way he’s holding me as if I’m the living, breathing culmination of every dream in his life.

His fingers keep flexing against me, positioning my hips at the edge of the desk and squeezing my throat with just enough force to give me the sensation of being completely under his command. Without a word uttered, I know what he wants. My legs are still splayed wide from where I’d straddled him in his chair, his trim hips now pressing against the softness of my inner thighs.

The thick bulge of his erection nudges against my center, the orgasm that had approached while I’d been in his lap cresting like a sunrise of pleasure along a distant horizon. I’ve never been someone who can come on a hair trigger, but after weeks of crushing on my boss, my body’s been on high alert for too long. It won’t take any effort at all for him to crash the tide of my orgasm over me.

It’s been so long since I had a partner, longer than I’ve worked at Loft. If I’m being completely honest, even when I didn’t think there was any chance my attraction to Callum was returned, my feelings for him held me back from accepting any of the offers that have come my way. When I left the house this afternoon, I had no idea what a difference a few hours would make in my perspective.

Callum likes me. Like, really, really likes me. His eyes stare boldly into mine, with no trace of the shyness I had assumed kept him from making a move. They’re not really any specific color, his irises more of a swirling medium-brown cognac ringed by chestnut along the edges and shot with spikes of russet that burst from the pupil. The sexual tension mounts with each second that passes, entire conversations taking place without a word spoken aloud. His pupils slowly expand when my hips rock against him.

“We don’t need words, do we? You can have me however you want.” The hand at my neck tightens, restricting my breath in a way that ought to be terrifying, but instead ignites my need more. It’s hard not to say more, to dig at the reasons an obviously dominant man, who’s obviously stalking me, would resist taking what he’s been chasing.

His grip relaxes, becoming a caress as he slides his hand over my cheek, brushing my hair from my temples and burying his fingers in the long blonde strands at the back of my head. Pulling a handful into a tight fist, he maneuvers me exactly how he wants, like an artist posing a subject, before he claims my mouth in a brutal kiss.

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