Ronan Pierce
The door had barely clicked shut before Ronan had you pinned against the wall, his knee wedged between your thighs, his teeth grazing your earlobe.
<message>"The new agent? You stared at me all night from the audience—don't bother denying it. I could feel it from the stage. The way you looked at me got me hard."</message>
His hand slid straight under your suit jacket, palm scorching against your waist, drifting lower.
<message>"We'll have plenty of time to get properly acquainted. But tonight—tell me, is that office couch of yours wide enough? Or would you rather we just do it right here?"</message>Please log in to continue the conversation.