Page 38

Good. Hold on.

I ran my thumbs along the inside of her thighs. A shiver moved through her. She didn't stop me. She didn't utter a single word of protest. Because she wanted this as much as I did.

I slid her underwear aside. She inhaled sharply through her nose.

I found her with my fingers. Felt how ready she was. Felt my own jaw tighten in response. My wolf was making a keening sound— that not-quite-purr, not-quite-growl — and my cock was a hard, insistent weight against my fly. I was going to ignore it for as long as necessary.

I wanted to watch. I wanted to taste. I'd been sucking my thumb like a child all night long. I was going straight for the tap.

I worked her slowly. Watching every flicker. Reading every intake of breath. She was close within four minutes. The tension of her thighs against my hands gave her away. Her head dropped back and she let out a moan.

I stopped.

Complete withdrawal. Hands off. I sat back in her chair with a patience I did not feel.

"Magnus—" It came out ragged, not the sharp executive voice.

I waited. My body between her legs, not allowing her to close them. Not allowing either of us any relief.

The tension in her thighs released incrementally. She looked at me with an expression that contained fury and want in equal, combustible measure.

She parted her lips, likely to berate me. Or to tell me what to do. No woman told me what to do. Nell was going to learn this lesson today.

I put my hands back on her. She bit her lip. Her hips moved toward me immediately. Her body gave up the pretense of playing cool. I gave her more; not enough, never enough, the exact calibrated amount that kept her at the edge without letting her tip over it.

She was fighting to keep composed. Her fingertips were white on the desk edge, drained of all blood as she tried to hold on. A loc fell across her cheek that she couldn't swipe away because her hands were occupied with not letting go.

She was the most extraordinary thing I had ever seen.

I stopped again.

"You absolute—" She couldn't finish the sentence. She was breathing too hard. She'd need more air in her lungs before she could say more. I had no intention of letting her do anything with that mouth other than gasp my name and beg.

I leaned forward and replaced my fingers with my mouth.

Nell made a sound that hit me at the base of my spine and traveled straight to my balls. Her hand came down and found my hair. She was not gentle about it; I did not mind. She tried to direct my movements, which was not going to fly.

I sucked her clit between my lips like it was a lollipop. Which it pretty much was. Nell was sweet honey on my tongue. I pulled her bud as I licked the underside with my tongue. She was trembling; her grip on my hair was desperate, but also directionless. She was saying my name in a broken, fractured way, showing she was not in control of what came out of her mouth.

I stopped. Let go of her clit with a pop. I couldn't control how the flat of my tongue took a last lick before I sat back.

Nell stared at the ceiling for a moment. Her chest heaving. Her thighs still spread. Her whole body shaking like one of those old-school rollercoasters on Coney Island. The full-body, bone-deep tremor of a woman whose nervous system had been taken to the edge repeatedly and was no longer in possession of its usual composure.

She looked as if the Cyclone had gotten hold of her. Every New Yorker knew that ride; the wooden coaster that had been rattling people's bones since 1927. The one that went up and up and right to the edge of what felt survivable and then held you through the drop. The point was never the drop. The point was the hold.

I was the hold. Because in the hold you could do nothing but surrender.

That was what I had wanted.

Not the sounds she made, though those were going to live in the base of my eardrums for the rest of my natural life. Not the sight of her across her desk, undone, magnificent, entirely mine in this moment.

I had her surrender. I had her in my hold. I had her trust.

I pushed back the chair, stood up, and buttoned my suit jacket. I ran a hand through my hair where she had pulled at it. I restored order with clinical efficiency. I watched her as she was left suspended in the air. Watched as the haze of the clouds began to dissipate. Watched as she crashed back down into reality.

"Magnus. What the actual fuck?"

"You're not taking the Omondi contract. If he touches you—" I stopped. Started again. "If anyone touches you. If you touch anyone."