Borrowed Heat part 2

The sound of the belt sliding free was louder than it should have been in the quiet office.

Ellis stayed braced against the desk, hands light on my hips, letting me work. I felt the controlled tension in him, the way he held still while I unzipped him, the quiet inhale when my fingers brushed the hard length of him through the fabric. He was already fully hard. The discovery sent a fresh pulse of heat between my legs.

I shoved his pants and underwear down just far enough. He kicked free of one shoe so the fabric could drop. When I wrapped my hand around him he exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes never leaving mine. Thick, hot, the skin smooth under my palm. I stroked once, deliberate, watching the muscle in his jaw flex.

“Professor…”

“Ellis,” I corrected, the same soft challenge he’d given me earlier. “If we’re doing this, use my name.”

“Mara.”

My first name in his mouth landed differently than I expected, intimate, almost careful. I stroked him again, tighter, and felt the controlled roll of his hips into my hand. Wetness gathered at the tip; I spread it with my thumb and watched his breathing go uneven.

I needed more control, or less. I couldn’t tell which. I stepped back only long enough to shove my underwear down and kick it aside. The cool air against my skin made me shiver. Then I was back against him, hiking my skirt, guiding him between my thighs. The first slide of his cock along my wetness drew a low sound from both of us. I was soaked already, embarrassingly so, and the knowledge only made the heat sharper.

“Condom,” he said, voice strained but clear. Still thinking and careful.

I had one in the desk drawer for reasons I refused to examine. I retrieved it, tore the packet, rolled it on him with both hands while he watched, breathing hard. When I finished he caught my wrist gently, not stopping me, just grounding.

“Look at me,” he said.

I did. The eye contact was almost too much, steady, intense, the same quiet focus he brought to every argument. He saw the want I usually hid under sharpness. I saw the same want reflected back, unshielded.

I guided him to my entrance and sank down in one slow, deliberate motion.

The stretch was immediate, full, perfect. A broken sound left my throat. Ellis’s hands tightened on my hips, gripping hard enough to leave marks, but he didn’t thrust up. He let me take him at my pace. I sank until he was buried completely, my forehead dropping against his for a second while I adjusted, breathing through the overwhelming fullness.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

His laugh was quiet, almost pained. “Yeah.”

I started to move, slow rolls of my hips at first, testing, then deeper. The wet sound of it filled the small office, obscene and intimate. His grip shifted; one hand slid under my skirt to the bare curve of my ass, holding me while I rode him. The other stayed at my hip, guiding without taking over. I liked the restraint. I liked more that I could feel how much it cost him.

Pace changed. I fucked him harder, chasing the friction, the drag, the way his cock hit exactly where I needed. My control frayed. Soft, desperate sounds slipped out of me that I would have hated in any other context. He answered with low groans, forehead pressed to mine, eyes open.

“Mara…can I…”

“Yes.”

He took over without making me feel less powerful. Hands firm on my hips, he thrust up into me in short, deep strokes that stole my breath. The desk creaked. My hands braced on his shoulders, nails digging in. Every snap of his hips sent sharp pleasure coiling tighter. I could feel how close I was already, weeks of tension collapsing into this single point of contact.

He shifted the angle. The next thrust dragged across the spot that made my vision blur. I came hard, sudden, thighs shaking, a broken cry muffled against his neck. He held me through it, fucking me through the aftershocks with controlled intensity until the pleasure edged into too-much and I bit his shoulder to stay quiet.

He followed a few strokes later, hips stuttering, a low groan torn from his throat as he buried himself deep and came. We stayed locked together, breathing hard, the rain still tapping the window, the lamp still throwing its small circle of light.

After a long moment I lifted my head. His eyes were dark, focused entirely on me. The sharpness I usually wore felt thin. Vulnerability sat right underneath, raw and exposed. He saw it. He didn’t look away.

I started to pull back. His hands gentled on my hips but didn’t release me completely.

“Still think you mapped me?” I asked, voice rough.

Ellis’s thumb stroked once along the edge of my skirt, quiet, almost tender. “I’m still learning,” he said. “And I’m not done.”

The locked door, the open rain, the cooling sweat on our skin, all of it felt like the start of something neither of us had planned and both of us had already chosen.