Chapter 3

I said, "I'm still trying to figure that out," with my voice shaking. As he started to glide his hand lower, he kept his eyes fixed on mine. I felt his fingers touch the lace edge of my thigh-high stocking and the strap of my garter belt as they moved down my thigh to the hem of my skirt, pulling it up in the process. I gasped as a wave of fire swept through my body as his finger slid under the thin cloth and pushed it downward.

Although I wanted to fight him, my body had other plans. My legs were starting to hurt more and more, and I found myself wanting him to keep going. Before inserting his finger inside of me, he touched the edge of my underwear and slid his fingers below, brushing my clit. I gazed down at him and bit my lip, trying to hold back my moan. There were little drops of sweat on.

He roared, "You're wet," and quickly closed his eyes as though in delight. His face was stiff and furious as he removed his finger and fisted my underwear in his palm. He tore them off in one fast move, the sound of the cloth tearing resonating throughout the space.

I was violently pushed toward him before being lifted up onto the chilly table and having my legs stretched out in front of him. His fingers reappear, go between my legs, and thrust into me once again while I groaned uncontrollably. Even though I hated him, I couldn't help but like what he was giving me. I could tell he was a guy accustomed to having his way since his touches were everything but delicate.

I leaned back on my elbows and felt my orgasm starting to come on. Oh, please, I whimpered, much to my own horror. He stopped moving them, pulled them back, and made a fist with them in front of him. I sprang to my feet, grabbed his silk tie, and pulled his lips into a frantic kiss on mine. I almost passed out because of how good his lips were and how I could tell he understood precisely what he was doing.

I replied, "I bit his lower lip," and quickly whipped his belt out of the hooks at the front of his jeans. "You ought to be ready to finish what you started."

The silver buttons on my blouse skittered over the large conference table as he ripped it open while making a low, furious growl deep in his throat. His black gaze was fixed on my countenance as he moved his hands up my ribcage and across my breasts, moving their thumbs around my stiff nipples as he did so. Although his hands were large and rough, nearly to the point of pain, I pushed into his palms, wanting more and harder, rather than cringing or backing away.

His fingers tensed as he grunted. I had the thought that I would bleed, and for some strange reason, I prayed I did. I yearned for a way to hold onto this state of utter assurance over my sexual impulses and feeling completely unrestrained.

He approached me and almost bit my shoulder as he said, "You tease." I pushed his boxers and trousers down while speeding up my strokes on his zipper since I couldn't get enough of him. I then forcefully grasped his penis as it began to pulsate in my palm.

I should have been furious at the way he snarled my last name—"Brown"—but instead, all I felt was pure, unabashed desire. He shoved me back against the conference table while forcing my skirt up my thighs. He gripped my ankles, put his cock in my hand, and took a step forward, pushing deep inside of me before I could say a word.

I remarked, "The loud moan I let out could not even be horrified." Better than anything, he felt.

He snarled, his hips smacking against my thighs, thrusting him deep within, "What's that?" between gritted teeth. Never experienced being fucked like this before? You wouldn't act in a manner to tease or seduce someone if you were having pleasant sex.

Who did he believe himself to be? And why the hell did the fact that he was correct to turn me up so much? I had never had sex outside of a bed, and it never felt this way.

"I've had better," I mocked.

He made a low, mocking chuckle. Say, "Look at me."

"No."

Just as I was about to have an orgasm, he paused. When I first feared he may leave me in that situation, he immediately grabbed my arms and helped me get up from the table while giving me a mouth-to-mouth kiss.

Once again, he continued, "Look at me. Finally, I was able to since he was no longer inside of me.

His long, black lashes touched his face as he opened his eyes after briefly closing them. Then, in a slow, methodical voice, he said, "Request me to give you an orgasm."

He talked strangely, almost as if he were asking a question, but his words were harsh and nasty as usual for him. I wanted him to make me orgasm so badly, but I wouldn't ask him for anything.

I lowered my voice and looked back at Ramirez while saying, "I'm not going to beg, Ramirez." You are a scumbag, Mr. Ramirez.

I could see from his grin that he had gotten what he wanted from me. Even though I wanted to drive my knees into his balls, doing so would prevent me from getting more of what I truly needed.

Please, Miss Brown, say.

"Go fuck yourself, please."

The next sensation I had was the cold window pressing up on my breasts, and I shivered at the sharp temperature difference between it and his flesh. I was overcome by yearning, and every part of me yearned for his rough caress.

He growled into my ear, "At least you're consistent," and bit my shoulder. At my feet, he punched me. You should "spread your legs."

He immediately pushed my hips back and reached out between us before pushing forward into me as I spread my legs.

His voice was gruff as he said, "You like the cold?"

"Yes," I grumbled, arching my back.

He said, "Devious, filthy girl," while holding my earlobe with his teeth. Do you like being observed? You like that everyone in Chicago can see you being fucked up here while enjoying every second of it with your gorgeous tits smashed against the glass.

I told him, "Stop talking, you're ruining it," even though he wasn't. His gruff voice was cruelly manipulating me.

He chuckled in my ear, and he saw that it made me shudder. You want them to see you arrive, right?

With each repeated thrust that pushed me closer to the glass, I moaned in response but was unable to speak.

"Say it. Miss Brown, do you want to attend? With each thrust, he pushed himself farther inside of me, hissing, "Answer me or I'll stop and make you suck me off instead."

The part of me that despised him was melting away like sweetness on my tongue, while the half that wanted all he had to offer was expanding, becoming hotter, and becoming more demanding.

He moved over, pulled my earlobe between his lips, then bit it hard, "Just tell me," he said. I'll give it to you, I swear.

I pleaded as I closed my eyes to block out the outside world and focus just on him. "Please. Yes."

With the ideal pressure and rhythm, he moved his fingers over my clit as he reached around. When he opened his lips and rubbed his teeth into my skin, I knew I was doomed. I could feel his grin pressing into the back of my neck. I was jolted back into him by the warmth that traveled down my spine, around my hips, and between my legs. The orgasm that was flowing through me caused my body to shake as my hands banged against the glass and I gasped for oxygen.

He withdrew when it eventually stopped, whirled me around to face him, and dove his head to suck my neck, jaw, and lower lip. Say please," he murmured.

In an effort to check whether he was in control or deluded, I pushed my hands deep into his hair and pulled ferociously. The question "What are we doing?"