"I said, take off your pants. Do it or go." Devon's voice crackles with finality.

I have no intention of leaving. Part of me wants to be more than his best friend's little sister. I scrape my jean and panties off in one harsh movement, kicking them off my feet when I stand.

He draws back, looking at me. I have to fight the urge to cover my breasts.

I expected something else. I expected hot kisses, gasping breaths, the heat of passion. He studies my naked body with a strangely cold analysis, every glance leaving a burning line on my skin where his eyes have been. My nipples are tight, pink knots, my breath catches in my lungs. Circling, he takes me in.

A finger brushes along my shoulder and instantly, a rush of wet heat floods my sex, stronger than any arousal I've felt before.

In a sudden movement, he steps to the side and swipes everything off his desk. Laptop, files, paper weights and phone crash to the floor along with a snow flurry of loose papers.

I flinch in surprise.

"On the desk, on all fours. Go."

My knees loosen as I realize none of this is familiar territory—this man, Devon Orlando is nothing like I expected or any other man I've ever dated. I could forget those fumbling, wet kisses in the dark and hasty, unsatisfying sex. I'm his toy here, and he's going to play with me.

Carnal want burns through me. He wants me on his desk? I'm his to order. I turn and crawl up slowly, letting him enjoy the animalistic show.

I'm facing away from him, my ass nearly level with his face. Tremors wrack me. He sucks in his breath with a sharp hiss, then parts my ass cheeks slightly to get a better view of me. I'm vulnerable, obscene, and mindless with primal urgings.

Then in a shock of liquid pleasure, he runs his tongue up the seam of my sex. The excruciating delight has me rearing up. He reaches around to push my head down.

"Don't move. You're mine until I tell you," he says gruffly. Then his mouth is on me again, an onslaught of licking and nipping, each wet touch of his tongue and teeth sends another tsunami of want through my core.

Every nerve is on fire. My whole body shakes, my attention riveted to the storm he sets off in my core. Shivers skitter over my skin and goose-bumps raise on my neck and scalp.

Five minutes ago, he was kissing another woman in the club and now his lips are on my sex, and I don't even care because that's the power he holds over me. I would give him my all.

This was moving so fast, and not fast enough. His hands on my thighs press dents in my skin and I squirm in his grip, unable to buck or move as my body is telling me to. He slows to a long, teasing last few licks and then I can feel his eyes on me. Only his eyes and hands—which will surely leave bruises.

I'm sopping wet by now.

"Turn and sit," he orders me.

I twist and lower my buttocks to the cold desk. I'm not moving fast enough and he guides my legs off the edge.

"Spread. Wider."

I spread my legs, my sex fully open and on display. Utterly vulnerable. He runs a hand from my knee up my inner thigh, closer and closer to my closely trimmed mound and sex.

"First, I will fuck you like this," he says. He turns his hand palm-up to finger-fuck me, and I arch my back, bucking my hips for him.

One finger is not nearly enough.

He rubs my pearly, wet nub with his thumb, moving his finger in and out languidly, drawing tiny whimpers from my mouth. I try to hook my legs behind his back, but he pushes my knees wide.

His pants tent with a demanding bulge and my eyes fix on it.

He mutters a hoarse fuck, and shifts, rubbing the bulge of his erection against my inner thigh. He groans, as if in hunger or pain. A spot of wetness appears through his pants. I reach to caress the tip where the spot is. He grabs my wrist.

"Not yet."

He inserts a second finger, widening my opening slightly, and I lean back, panting. It makes me imagine how much more his dick will stretch me. I'm already picturing him inside me, taking me, enjoying me.

Finger fucking me slowly, his eyes rake over me, claiming my every whimper and contortion, burning on my lips as I bite them in pleasure. He hitches his chin as he pushes his fingers deeper inside me, running over the slick walls of my sex, faster and faster.

He bends over me and his lips land on a tightened nipple. I arch up to meet them. He sucks so hard I have to grab his hair, fisting it, as exquisite pleasure ripples through me. I roll my hips to match the pace of his finger, wishing it was his iron-hard cock in me.

Lifting his head a moment, he hitches chin in approval at the little noises I can't stop making. Tendons stand out on his neck and forehead, and his muscles tense with self-control. There's no sign of pleasure on his face, but his jaw is clamped and nostrils flared. Like he's about to lose all that self-control. He leans back further to watch his hand fucking me.

The slick walls of my sex clench on him and an exquisite shivering grows in my core. I gasp for air. It's raw and sensual, watching him do this to me, nothing romantic about it.

I'm on the edge of exploding and he knows it.

"This," he rasps, "this is the only way I'll fuck you tonight unless you agree to my terms."

*** ONC 970 word count. Thanks so much for reading! ***