Chapter 6

Morgan

The sound of the lock turning was jarring, reverberating through me like the first clap of thunder in the middle of a raging hurricane.

It sealed me into my own personally-chosen doom.

I swallowed so loudly that he probably heard it. I wanted this, wanted him, more than I'd allowed myself to admit. The professionalism, the rules, the potential consequences—they all faded into the background, overshadowed by a desire too potent to resist.

The look in his eyes shifted, reflecting a mix of surprise and a deep, smoldering intensity.

I was going to fuck my boss, because that's what he was, right?

I closed my eyes.

That's right.

Your boss…

I hadn't really admitted it to myself until now, but my body was tingling with heat. No matter what I tried to tell myself, there was no way I was escaping this office now without knowing what his cock felt like between my thighs, and a deep, shameful part of me was excited about the very wicked nature of that.

Of what it would feel like.

Of how hard I would come…

"Miss Davis, you're full of surprises," he drawled, his voice hoarse with his own desire. His body pressed against mine, the hard line of his cock pressed against my hip, and I sucked in a breath. I'd seen the proof of his arousal, but now that I felt it for the first time, it was the kind of big that made a girl nervous.

It was certainly much larger than any man I'd ever been with before.

Sure, there had been Derek—Mr. No-Long-Distance who had been my ex-fiancé, the aspiring musician who was more in love with his guitar than he ever could be with me. His passion had been admirable, but his inability to commit to anything beyond his next gig was frustrating. Plus, the way he'd broken it off with me had left more than a sour taste in my mouth.

Then there was the grad student Alex, whose idea of a date night was a quiet study session in the library. He was sweet, but our conversations lacked depth and excitement, and then there was the complete lack of chemistry in the bedroom.

Those memories paled in comparison to the intensity radiating from Hunter right now. He exuded a sense of certainty and strength that I hadn't ever encountered before. It was in the way he held himself, the confidence in his stride, the assuredness in every word he spoke. Even now, with the tumultuous mix of emotions hanging in the air, he seemed unshakably composed.

It was as if the men I'd been with before had simply been boys.

Hunter Blackwater was a man.

"Enough to keep a man like you on your toes," I quipped, trying to hide the way my voice shook with heat. My nipples scraped against the lace of my bra. The feeling of it was painful, and I drew my lip between my teeth, nibbling on it as I tried to get a hold of myself.

His hand reached for my face, cupping my cheek as his thumb grazed over my cheekbone. His touch was gentle, but I could tell he was holding back.

"Indeed," he mused, his gaze searching mine as if I held all the answers. Questions whirled through my mind instead.

What was going to happen between us? Should I have left? Was I about to ruin everything with whatever came next?

Would he still be my boss tomorrow if I did this?

His hand moved to the back of my neck, and then his lips descended to meet mine. His kiss made all the others seem soft, and it sent my head reeling.

His mouth moved over mine punishingly hard, and I kissed him back with just as much intensity, only I couldn't quite match his. His need for me was borderline obsessive, and in seconds, my lips ached. His tongue struck mine, tangling with me in a volley of dominance that demanded my surrender.

"The moment you locked that door, Miss Davis, you became mine," he growled.

The sound of his voice reverberated through the room, its deep, resonant quality echoing the intensity of the moment. The effect was like a cold glass of water on a hot summer day—shocking, refreshing, and somehow exactly what I didn't know I needed.

He reached down and grabbed my skirt. He wrenched it up, exposing the expanse of my bare thigh, and I sucked in an unsteady breath.

Holy fucking shit!

He was going to find out what kind of underwear I was wearing.

He was going to think I was some little slut for dressing for him like this. I bit my lip as he tugged up my skirt, and when he exposed my panties, I sucked in a breath of shame.

I closed my eyes and waited at his sharp intake of breath.

"Fuck. I had wondered what you were wearing underneath this beautiful outfit. Did you wear these pretty panties for me, my perfect little slut?"

His words raced through me like a sudden heated shower. I gasped, wanting to fight against him, yet losing control so quickly it felt like the carpet had been swept right out from under my feet.

"I…"

"Such a naughty girl," he growled. Then, using the flats of his fingers, he slapped my pussy over the seat of my panties. I started, the light sting overwhelming me for a long second.

I blushed hard.

There was no way he wasn't going to know how wet I was now.

"I didn't—" I tried, but he cut me off with a savage snarl.

"They're very pretty, but you're not going to need them for much longer, my beautiful little slut," he rasped. He slapped my pussy two more times in quick succession, causing one lightning bolt of desire after the next to shoot straight to my clit.

I gasped, my body heating with wild abandon. Every nerve tingled with electricity, threating to ignite at any given moment. My skin prickled, and I felt a droplet of sweat roll down my spine. With a shiver, I gazed up into his eyes.

They were full of raw appreciation. He wasn't teasing me. He meant every single word.

"I'm not?" I questioned, my voice trailing off in the midst of the tension crackling between us. His fingers slid across my hip, just trailing above the waistband of my panties. I licked my bruised lips. His gaze followed the movement of my tongue, and I blushed a much brighter red.

"No," he answered simply.

Then his fingertip curled underneath my panties, and he tore them right off. The fabric pinched at my tender, wet folds, and I cried out, but he yanked a bit harder, and the fabric parted like the Red Sea.

"I liked those," I breathed, my disbelief written into every syllable of my voice, but he smiled, chuckling softly under his breath.

"I'll buy you another," he said, as if it was that simple.

"Those were a gift," I countered.

"From another man?" he growled, and all of a sudden, the atmosphere in the room darkened, filling with the resounding waves of his anger and jealousy, and I sucked in a nervous breath.

"Yes," I whispered. It was true. They'd been a Valentine's Day gift from Alex, only he'd ended up breaking up with me the same day and I'd never worn them for him. In fact, this was the first time I'd worn them at all, but I wasn't about to admit that to him.

"Then I'm going to burn them," he snarled.

For a moment, I was exceedingly aware of how my pussy clenched and my nipples zinged with need over his possessiveness. It felt like something out of the caveman days, but I kind of liked it anyway.

That didn't mean that I would go down without a fight.

"You wouldn't dare," I challenged. "Firstly, they're mine, and secondly, I don't think you're the type to destroy a woman's belongings simply out of jealousy."

"Jealousy?" he echoed, a smirk playing on his lips. "I don't get jealous, Miss Davis. I just don't like the idea of you wearing something from another man. It's… distracting."

"Well, Mr. Blackwater, I hate to break it to you, but I don't dress for you or any man," I retorted, my voice steady but laced with a hint of defiance. "My wardrobe choices are mine alone."

"For now," he countered, and I lifted my chin almost as if I was directly challenging him.

What did that mean? And why did my body heat at his words? Why did a part of being made to dress in whatever his heart desired make my pussy pulse?

"Fuck you, Mr. Blackwater," I snarled with just as much ferocity of my own. His gaze darkened and the corners of his mouth turned up with a smirk.

The flats of his fingers spanked my bare pussy, and the ensuing sting was more than enough to steal the words right out of my mouth.

"Patience, Miss Davis. We'll get to that soon enough."

I snarled and his ensuing smirk made my pussy pulse as if it had developed its own heartbeat.

"First, my needy little slut, you're going to get down on your knees."

I whipped my head around towards him and opened my mouth to protest, but his hand was already on my shoulder, pushing me down. My strength was no match for his, but I tried to fight anyway. Before I knew what was happening though, he'd already forced me to my knees.

"I'm not your needy little slut," I snapped, and his devious smile begged to differ. He grabbed the hair at the back of my scalp and fisted it, pulling it taut enough for a flash of pain to radiate across the back of my head.

I cried out, but that didn't stop him from pressing the massive bulge of his cock against my cheek. With a cry, I tried to pull back, but he held me in place whether I wanted it or not.

"Today, you're going to be," he replied, the huskiness in his voice revealing his own desire in spades. I nipped at his thigh, only for him to drag me by the hair to his desk. He spun me around so that the back of my head pressed against the front of the desk and then stopped in front of me, the hard line of his cock level with my heated gaze.

"I'm going to use that pretty mouth, my little slut. I'm going to fuck it. I'm not going to be gentle. You're going to take it like a good girl unless you want me to take off my belt," he growled.

His belt?

My nipples hardened into tight little rocks and a jolt of arousal pierced right to my clit. I opened my mouth to say some smart retort, but the words died on my tongue as he unbuckled the very same belt that he'd just threatened me with. Unhurriedly, he slowly unbuttoned his slacks and pulled down his zipper before he freed his cock.

Oh my fucking god. He is huge.

His cock put every other man I'd ever been with to shame. It was red and angry and really fucking erect. As my eyes fell on the monstrosity of it, it jerked right in front of me. The smooth velvety looking surface was covered with thick, throbbing veins.

This was the kind of cock that would leave a pussy sore.

Was going to leave my pussy sore…

My inner walls tightened with anxious arousal at the thought of taking something so big inside of me. My thighs pressed together as my fear rose, almost as if I'd forgotten about his threat to fuck my face.

But I didn't forget that. Not when his cock was staring me right in the face.

"Open your mouth," he demanded.

"No," I replied.

His hand cupped my cheek gently for a moment. As he traced his thumb over my cheekbone, I shivered.

Then he cuffed my face. Hard.

Stinging pain erupted across my cheek and my pussy practically convulsed. He held his hand there as the ache blossomed, deliciously painful, a bit debasing, a little degrading, and utterly delectable.

I shouldn't like it.

I shouldn't want him to do it again.

"I told you to open your mouth, my beautiful little slut," he growled. His hand tapped the side of my face threateningly, and I lifted my chin in defiance, meeting his gaze as he stared down at me.

"I said no—" I tried, but then he cuffed the right side of my face twice more in quick succession. My pussy clenched tight as I gasped, my fearful arousal roiling inside me like a churning ocean.

With my cheek burning, I finally opened my mouth.

"That's my good girl," he praised, and I loathed how my heart leapt at his words. Why would that make my body blaze with heat? Why did I hold onto the edge of his every word like it was a lifeline and like I didn't want to let go?

It was infuriating, but there wasn't any time to think about it. His hand gripped my hair, and he slid his cock in between my lips. I had to open my mouth even wider to accommodate him, stretching my cheeks enough to ache, and I hadn't even started sucking his cock yet.

"Fuck, such a warm little mouth," he murmured. The head of his cock slid against my tongue, and the sharp, sweet, tangy taste of him hit me like a freight train. I closed my lips around his shaft, trying to slow his descent into my mouth, but he just kept pushing until the tip nudged against the back of my throat.

I gagged and he pulled back, only slightly, and I swallowed, trying to gather myself, only for him to push back inside. Almost immediately, I choked again, but this time he didn't let up.

"Breathe through your nose, little slut," he directed, and I tried to do as he instructed, but it wasn't easy when you had a monster of a cock in your mouth. He pushed forward and just held his cock there, letting me struggle until I finally got a hold of myself.

There was no way to push back, not with the desk behind my head. The only way to go was forward and that meant swallowing more of his cock.

I cursed myself for not figuring out what he was doing sooner. I tried to turn to the side, but he grabbed the hair at the top of my scalp and twisted my head back into place.

Then he pulled back, just enough for me to draw in a deep breath.

Maybe he'd become tired of this. Maybe he'd realized this was wrong, but it soon occurred to me that it was none of those things.

He was simply preparing himself to fuck my mouth.

His pelvis thrust forward, and his cock plunged deep into my mouth, nudging against the back of my throat, and then he drove back in again.

My struggles before had been a warmup.

I'd never had my mouth fucked before.

There was nothing for me to do other than kneel there and open my throat as best as I could. I choked on his cock again and again, but he kept plunging himself in between my lips. My cheeks were sore long before this, and they only grew more so. Every thrust pounded down the back of my throat, brutal and ruthlessly hard, and I had no choice but to take it.

I tried to push against his thighs, but it was as if I was trying to punch through a brick wall. Utterly useless.

He fucked my mouth until my eyes watered and then he fucked it some more, harder and harder until there were tears streaming down my cheeks. Drool dripped down my chin, and I felt like nothing more than a whore in that moment.

"You're a fucking vision, my pretty little slut," he purred, and again, his praise made my insides swoon with heat.

At his words, I tried to open my lips wider. I swirled my tongue around his shaft as he slowly fucked my mouth, and then he began to pick up the pace again. The fucking was rough, but I took it, and the longer it went on, the more I feared it would never end.

My pussy was soaking wet. I could feel my arousal dripping down my inner thighs beneath my skirt, and I knew that once I stood up, there was going to be an unmistakable wet spot left behind, and he was going to see it.

I didn't understand why his brutal treatment was turning me on. It shouldn't. I should hate it. I should scream at him for crossing the line, but I didn't do any of those things.

Instead, I just kept sucking his cock because there was a very deep, wicked part of me that liked how rough he was being with me.

"That's it, slut, give me that wet little mouth," he demanded, and I did.

He fucked my mouth good and hard, and just when his thighs started to tremble beneath my fingers, he pulled back and growled with a low rumble.

I took the moment to sniffle back my tears, but they kept falling.

"Do you want my come down your throat or do you need me to bend you over my desk, my beautiful little whore?"

I should be angry.

I should tell him off.

I should fucking bite his cock off for treating me like this, but everything in me was telling me that I wanted this, that I needed it, so I did none of those things.

Instead, I did the exact opposite.