Chapter 3: His Backseat Slut.

Isolde's POV

The next morning, he was ice cold.

“Good morning, Ms. Vespera,” he said flatly as he opened the passenger seat door for me.

No smile, no warmth; he didn't even look me in the eye, he was ignoring the fact that he had devoured me on the bridge the previous evening, while he drove me to the office in total silence.

Every attempt to talk to him was met with a wall of professionalism.

It hurt so much.

By the time we reached the underground garage of the office, he parked the car.

“Rafe, about last night—” I started before he could get out to open the door for me.

“It was a mistake, ma'am,” he replied immediately.

“I'm sorry, it won't happen again.” He got out right after he spoke, leaving me sitting in the back seat in shock.

The elevator ride up to the top floor was pure torture, his Oud perfume continued to hit my nose, making me crave his touch even more.

I spent the rest of the day distracted, snapping at assistants and secretaries, constantly replaying the movement of his tongue between my legs while pretending to read my reports.

I wanted his mouth on my breasts; I wanted him to bite, suck, and squeeze them.

Instead, he ignored me completely while a burning heat kept flaring inside my stomach, i needed him to touch me.

At 5:30 in the evening, he knocked on my office door and poked his head in.

“Ms. Vespera, I need to speak with you,” he said, holding his hands behind his back.

I nodded happily.

Finally, he was going to admit it.

Instead, he walked up to my desk and placed a brown envelope down.

“What is that?” I asked, hoping it wasn't what I thought it was.

“I am resigning. Please approve it so the driver's association can assign another driver to you,” he said.

“What?!” I gasped lightly while my eyelid blinked rapidly, his words hitting me like cold rain.

“I apologize for losing control yesterday,” he said, looking down at his feet. “You are dangerous and distracting. I don't know what I will do if I spend any more time with you.”

I stood up immediately, rounding the desk in a few strides, my chin trembling slightly as I drew my eyebrows together, entirely consumed by anger and hurt.

“You fingered me mercilessly on a public bridge, ate me out like it was your last meal, and then you acted like it was nothing the next day? And now you want to run? Where is the sense in that, Rafe?” I said breathlessly, my voice laced with sharp accusation.

“You are not leaving.” I breath out with finality.

His jaw flexed. “You don't get to decide this,” he said, looking up to match my gaze.

“I do, because I know you want this just as badly as I do,” I said, poking a finger repeatedly into his chest. “Admit it, Rafe.”

He closed his eyes and backed away, but I kept walking closer, trapping him.

“Tell me you haven't jerked off thinking about how I taste! Tell me you didn't dream about me all night long!” I demanded, still poking his chest.

He caught my wrist, his eyes blazing with sudden heat before he closed them again and sighed heavily. “Fine. You want the truth?”

“Yes Rafe.” I nodded instantly, looking deep into his eyes.

“I knew you saw me that evening in the garage. Every time you tease me, I want to ruin you, Isolde. I want you more than anything or anyone else. I want to own you, Isolde. But I am your driver. This crosses every line.”

“Cross it,” I muttered, my voice trembling with desperate need and passion. “Then cross it, Rafe. Now.”

He shook his head. “No, Isolde.”

“Yes, Rafe,” I countered.

I stood on my tiptoes and slammed my lips against his.

He froze for a split second, but then he melted, wrapping his hands around my neck, catching my lips in a hot needy kiss.

Biting, chewing, sucking on them and taking over every corner of my mouth.

When he finally released my lips after a few minutes of fiercely devouring them, they were completely swollen.

A thin string of saliva lingered between us.

Suddenly, Rafe spun me around, pressed me back, and lifted me up onto a cleared space at the edge of the desk.

His gaze scanned my face slowly, dropped to my breasts, and then snapped back up to meet my eyes.

A smirk played on his lips. “Your father is going to kill me if he finds out about this.”

“He won't. We are both his favorites. He will be fine,” I replied, while I ran my finger down his chest.

He slowly unbuttoned my shirt, revealing my aching, hardened nipples.

He pinched one slowly while leaning down to suck on the other, drawing a loud, uncontrollable groan straight from my throat.

“Look at you. A boss lady by day, a desperate little slut for me by night,” he murmured as he pulled his mouth away from one breast, though his fingers continued to pinch and roll the other.

I hissed as he leaned back down, torturing my breasts with his teeth and tongue, squeezing them in his hands like they were his favorite toys.

Suddenly, he lifted me entirely and turned me over the desk.

Rafe pressed my chest flat against the smooth surface, forcing my hips up and leaving my round butt completely on display.

He removed his suit and loosen his tie and used it to knot my two wrists together above my head.

In a matter of seconds, he shoved my skirt up further and slid a hand straight into my panties.

He began to stroke me slowly, his fingers tracing over my drenched core.

I moaned instantly at the contact.

Then, two fingers slid inside my entrance, while his thumb rubbed my clit with a steady, unyielding pressure.

I arched my back, pushing my hips out further to welcome his finger deep into my pussy.

“Tell me how much you need my cock,” he demanded.

“I need it like my life depends on it, Rafe,” I panted, completely consumed by ecstasy. “I've been so wet, daydreaming about your dick inside me. Please, Rafe, fuck me. Please.”

“Not yet, boss.”

He pulled his fingers free from my heat, forcing me to turn around and kneel before him.

Rafe brought his slick fingers right up to my lips. “Suck.”