Mercedes

With a nearly inaudible growl he fisted his hand in my curls, effectively ruining the perfect coif, and pulled me back up against his chest. He didn't let go of my hair, instead he held me immobile while his right hand held my hands behind my back, and I could feel the rigid muscles in his stomach with my fingertips. Lightly, I traced the line of his costumed breeches.

"Are you tempting me Mercedes?" He said in my ear before lightly nibbling my collarbone. That was a spot for me, and one that hadn't been hit in a very long time. I relaxed back into him and let out a very soft jittery sigh.

"Will it make you stop teasing me?" I asked lightly, as if I weren't reduced to a puddle by his nibbles and the strength in his hands. I felt him smile against my skin. I looked askance at him; his mask still covered his face, making him look controlled and detached when I was not at all feeling the same. I thrust backwards again into his groin.

His hands tightened, drawing a little gasp from me, his eyes came to rest on my face. "I think I am not the one teasing sweet. But I can if that is what you'd like..." He trailed off ominously.

I began to shake my head in the negative when he kicked my heeled feet apart. Already precariously balanced, I fell forwards to grab the desk and keep from falling. His hands were there, guiding mine to the other edge of the desk, with the width of the writing table, I had to reach for it and felt my back stretch with me. His hands glided down my sides to my hips where my voluminous skirts were gathered. I felt his finger trace the line where they met my skin and felt forlorn that he would take so long to unfasten them when I needed him now. I arched down into the desk to demonstrate that need.

His breath hissed out and his hands left my back, when next they appeared they were on my ankles and travelling upwards along my calves. I felt the satin skirts rise with him and thought my legs would give out from the anticipation I was feeling. I was so wet; I'd never known I could be so aroused. When his hands put the skirts at rest on my waist, they met at the junction of my thighs. I heard him chuckle, a masculine laugh borne of pride.

Normally I'd flip him over and show him that I could be in charge too, but I wasn't sure I could do that right now, instead I felt myself seeking his hand that was lightly trailing up and down, deliberately missing the spots I wanted him to touch.

I was about to beg, but he saved me from it by easing a finger inside me. Rather than quench the fire it made the ache worse, I pressed back into his hand and felt the lace from his costume tickle my skin, it heightened my pleasure. It wasn't until I heard him groan from behind me that I realized he had eased two fingers inside and that I was dutifully responding with enthusiasm. His hand in my hair pulled back harder, forcing my back to bow. He leaned over me, pressing his hand even closer.

"I don't think I can fit in here, but I'm going to try...are you ready for this, sweet?"

I nodded as much as his grip would allow and pressed back against his hips in excitement. He abruptly released my hair and I felt his warmth disappear. I was about to turn and find him when I felt him behind me once more, pressing me back down onto the desktop. The wood was cold on my breasts, somehow distracting me from my arousal. Until I felt his cock at my entrance. He slid it back and forth coating it in the plentiful wetness.

I was impatient and pressed backwards, nearly slipping him inside until he pulled back. Past words I think I snarled a little bit. At least until he thrust forward and I felt him stretch me from the inside, the pain was overshadowed by the pleasure and I gripped the desk tighter.

"Almost...half...way..." He said one word to each thrust. I was pressing backwards, until I registered his words.

"Half?" I asked.

He pulled out and I could hear the smirk in his voice when he said, "No, almost half." And surged forward.

He almost brought me off the desk; I cried out and couldn't tell if it was from pleasure or discomfort. At least not until he grabbed my shoulders and said, "You're not going anywhere, relax your muscles."

I tried, and he thrust in further. He felt impossibly large, I whimpered. And then he gathered momentum. In and out until he was going so hard that I was gasping in time to the sound of flesh hitting flesh. He growled behind me when I started to feel waves of pleasure coming in faster and faster. I knew he was feeling it too because he started thrusting harder and harder, my hands biting into the edge of the desk, my cries most likely louder than I wanted them to be.

I finally split apart, exploding from the pleasure, and felt my muscles milking him. He froze and I felt his hands land heavily on either side of me as I writhed on his cock, unable to ask but confused as to why he stopped moving. At least I was until he pulled out so fast I felt an aftershock of pleasure, and squeaked in surprise when he turned me over, pushing me onto the desk until I was looking up at his white mask. His hair fell over his mask, making him look dangerous. His jacket and shirt opened completely and from the feel of it, he was just as excited by the sight of me as I was of him. I trailed my hands down his chest and felt the ridges or his stomach clench.

I pouted up at him, "Why did you stop?"

His mask expressionless stared down at me, "I wanted to watch your face, and I want you to say my name as you come."

I panted, and looked into his eyes, and I nodded eagerly wrapping my legs around his waist. When he would not yield, I pulled my hips off the desk and went to him. He made a strangling noise, and grabbed my thighs so tight I thought he'd leave bruises. He positioned himself at my entrance.

"Say it."

I looked up at him, surprised he wanted to hear it so early. Then I opened my mouth, "Adam...Oh!" He'd buried himself in one stroke as soon as the first sound was out of my mouth, and the rest sounded like a cry as it rose.

He pulled out and thrust harder, "Again."

I whimpered and said his name once more. In fact I said it over and over again, as he continued, the pressure building and building, his name coming out of my mouth like a prayer.

I was so close, I ran my nails down his back, beneath his linen shirt, and he arched into me with a deep moan. I started to come screaming his name, and he was right behind me, his hands buried in my skirts and holding me to him as he bit me in the shoulder with a snarl.

As we both lay panting, him above me as I lay on the desk, I sighed. "How did you know?" I asked hoarsely.

"Know what?" His voice was muffled by my hair that had come loose and lay across the desk.

"How the scene in the library was. I was writing that when you messaged me."

He chucked, and the movements made me writhe. In spite of my wanting to know I rotated my hips. His chuckle ended on a moan, and his hands came to my hips to still my movement.

"Trina."

"Trina?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes, she had nothing of interest to talk about other than your book."

"Oh that dirty girl! She gave away my secrets!"

"Of the two of you, yours are the secrets I'd rather know, sweet."

I shivered; he said that with such wicked intent in the words.

"Then let's get better acquainted shall we?"