Explosive by Beth Kery Page A

tight in an agony of bliss. Still, he wanted more of her, was wild to find some secret in her darkest depths.
    He pressed her chest and belly flat to the desk and lifted his knee, rising up partially over her. He placed his knee on the desk and fucked her with deep, short, frantic strokes, his eyes rolling back into his head at the delicious friction the new angle provided him.
    Sophie mewled in stunned pleasure.
    “You’re so damned hot. So tight. I’m not going to last,” he muttered as he thrust madly. He slid his hand to the front of her, his finger burrowing between her labia, seeking out her most sensitive flesh, needing her to share some measure of the burning inferno about to consume him.
    His curse was an acknowledgment of a blessing. She was wetter than a man could imagine in his most illicit fantasies.
    When she cried out and he felt her begin to convulse in orgasm around his pistoning cock, a red haze of lust clouded his vision, the mindless nirvana he’d sought so desperately.
    He placed his foot back on the floor and grabbed her hips. He thrust again and again, jerking her hips toward him, his arm muscles straining as he served Sophie’s sweet flesh to his raging cock.
    He bit his lip to stop himself from shouting when he came. He shook as he poured himself into the condom.
    “Sophie, Sophie,” he muttered between clenched teeth as wave after wave of blistering pleasure flooded his senses and all thought was blessedly erased from his brain.

CHAPTER FOUR
    He fell down over her, gasping for air, feeling raw and exposed, like a fish tossed up on the beach. She’d turned her head, resting her right cheek on the desk. She panted, but nowhere near as hard as he did. He was in good shape, but Christ . . . fucking Sophie had been like racing toward heaven with the devil fast on his heels.
    He pressed his forehead to her temple, wanting the small contact with her while his body recovered from the raging storm. He wanted to hold her, but his heart and lungs demanded their due, paralyzing him for a moment.
    By slow degrees, he returned to himself. She shifted and murmured softly, lifting her chin and brushing her lips across his cheek. He realized he was pressing her soft body down onto the hard desk. His eyes sprang open when her vagina contracted around him. Need swelled inside him once again, fierce and raw.
    Grief had transformed him into a fucking animal.
    “Thomas?” she whispered when he abruptly stood. He clenched his teeth at the sensation of his cock leaving the warm, slick clasp of her body. It pained him for some reason, to see her bent over the desk like that, her white cotton underwear callously shoved down to her knees. He placed his hands on her lower legs and gently pulled up her panties, lingering to let his fingers slide across the curve of her naked hips.
    He winced as he removed the condom from his restiffening penis.
    He didn’t respond to her one-word query while he jerked up his underwear and pants, then knotted the condom, wrapped it in some Kleenex from her desk, and disposed of it in the wastepaper basket.
    She straightened as he came back toward her, pushing her skirt back down over her legs. Her cheeks were flushed pink from her arousal. Her glance held traces of confusion and concern, causing regret to lance through him once again.
    He took her in his arms and brushed back tendrils of hair from her cheeks. This close, he could see the gold strands seemed to hold onto the muted light, making them incandesce and shimmer. He pressed his lips to her temple. For a full minute, neither of them spoke.
    “What can I say?” he eventually asked next to her skin. “I don’t know where that came from. ‘Sorry’ doesn’t really seem adequate, seeing as how I just barged in your office and made love to you with all the finesse of a locomotive going at full steam.”
    She leaned back and studied him. He closed his eyelids when he felt her fingers burrowing through his hair. Her massaging