He did slow just enough to let her breathe, then started again – deep, grinding strokes that kept her right on the edge.
The desk creaked louder now, protesting under the force of it. Papers from the IRS folder were scattered across the floor around them, completely forgotten. The outside lights across the windows were painting her body in shifting gold and blue.
"You're so fucking tight when you come," he growled, leaning down to kiss her hard, messy, tasting the desperation on her tongue. "It's funny. Still trying to act like you're in control while I'm buried inside you."
Diana moaned into his mouth, legs trembling on his shoulders. "I can't – Ryan, I can't think – "
"Good." He straightened up again, gripping her thighs harder, driving in deeper. "You don't need to think. You just need to take it."
He kept the pace punishing – long, powerful strokes that made her tits bounce and her bound wrists press harder into the wood.
