Silas didn’t move for a long moment. He sat on the edge of her desk, his trousers still undone, his body thrumming with the heat she’d stoked and abandoned. Anna had already picked up her pen, already resumed reviewing a patient file, as though the past ten minutes had been nothing more than a routine consultation.

The casual dismissal was what broke him.

He moved before he thought about it.

His hand shot out, catching her wrist before the pen could touch paper. She looked up, surprise flickering through those light brown eyes that always glowed gold when she was doing something important, and then he was pulling her out of her chair, spinning her around, pressing her forward until her palms hit the desk.

"Silas-"

"No."

His voice came out rougher than he intended. His body pressed against her back, pinning her to the edge of the desk, his mouth finding her ear.

"You don’t get to do that."

"Do what?"

"Start something and walk away."

Her breath hitched as his hand found her throat. Not hard, not yet, just a firm grip, his fingers pressing against the pulse fluttering beneath her jaw. He felt it accelerate, felt her swallow against his palm.

"I have patients-"

"They can wait."

His other hand found the buttons of her white coat. He worked them open one by one, slow and deliberate, his lips brushing the curve of her ear with each button that came undone. The coat fell open. The cream blouse beneath was next.

The buttons were small, delicate, the kind that required patience. He gave them exactly that, his fingers moving with precision, never once tugging or rushing. Each button slipped through its loop cleanly, and he pushed the fabric aside to reveal the lacy bralette beneath.

"Look at you," he murmured. "All professional on the outside. And underneath..."

His hand slid from her throat down her chest, over the lace, feeling her nipple pebble beneath his touch.

"I haven’t even started, and you’re already trembling."

Anna’s hands gripped the edge of her desk. Her breath came in shallow bursts, her composure cracking along fault lines only he could see.

"You have a class," she managed.

"I’ll be late."

He pulled the blouse off her shoulders, guiding her arms out of the sleeves one at a time, then draped it over the back of her chair. The coat followed, folded carefully across the armrest. The bralette unhooked with a single flick of his fingers, and he let it fall forward, leaving her bare from the waist up.

The pencil skirt was next. The zipper at her hip slid down without resistance, and he pushed the fabric over the curve of her ass, letting it pool at her ankles. She stepped out of it without being asked, and he folded it too, setting it beside the rest of her clothes.

"No damage," he said, answering the question she hadn’t asked. "You’ll put them back on, and no one will know."

Her laugh was breathless. "Confident."

"Mm."

His hand found her throat again, pulling her upright, her back arching against his chest. His other hand slid down her stomach, over her hip, between her thighs. She was already slick, already swollen, her heat coating his fingers as he pressed against her.

"This what you wanted?" he asked, his voice low against her ear. "When you had me in your mouth. When you left me aching on your desk. Was this the plan?"

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her head fell back against his shoulder as his fingers circled her clit, her mouth opening on a silent gasp.

"Answer me."

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes-" She swallowed. "Yes, I wanted you to take it."

He smiled against her neck.

"Good."

He turned her, pressing her forward again, her palms flat on the desk, her ass raised, her body open and waiting. The position was obscene, the Head Nurse bent over her own desk in her infirmary, her clothes folded neatly beside her, her eyes looking back over her shoulder with want written across every line of her face.

He guided himself to her entrance, dragging the head of his cock through her slick folds, watching her shiver at the contact.

"Tell me," he said.

"Tell you what?"

"What you want."

Her jaw tightened. Her pride warred with her need, and Silas waited, his cock pressing against her, not entering, just there, promising everything she was too stubborn to beg for.

"I want you to fuck me," she said finally, the words torn from her throat. "Hard."

"Hard?"

"Until I forget my own name."

He pushed inside her in a single stroke.

The sound she made was swallowed by her own hand, a strangled, desperate cry that she muffled against her palm as he bottomed out inside her. His grip on her hip tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pulled back and drove into her again.

The desk creaked beneath them.

Papers scattered across the surface, patient files and referral forms and a half-empty cup of tea that sloshed dangerously close to the edge. Silas didn’t care. His focus had narrowed to the heat of her, the tightness of her, the way her walls clenched around him with every thrust.

His hand found her throat again, pulling her upright, her back against his chest, her head falling back against his shoulder. He fucked her like this, deep and punishing, each stroke driving her further onto the desk, further into the pleasure pooling in her core.

"Look at yourself," he said, his voice ragged. "Look at what you do to me."

Her hand left her mouth, reaching back, gripping his hair, pulling him down into a kiss that was more teeth than lips. She bit his lower lip, drew blood, and he groaned into her mouth, his hips never slowing.

He pushed her forward again, bending her over the desk, changing the angle, and she cried out as he hit something deeper, something that made her knees buckle. Her hands scrabbled for purchase on the polished wood, knocking over a cup of pens, sending a stack of forms sliding to the floor.

"So close," she gasped. "Silas-"

"Not yet."

His hand found her clit, pressing, circling, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. She was soaked, her thighs slick with her arousal, her body trembling with the effort of holding back the climax building in her core.

"Please-"

"Say my name again."

"Silas!"

He pressed deeper, harder, his grip on her hip bruising, his hand on her clit relentless. She came apart with a cry she couldn’t muffle, her body convulsing around him, her release flooding over his fingers as she shook against the desk.

He followed her over the edge, burying himself deep, his release spilling into her as he held her against the desk, his forehead pressed to her shoulder, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

The infirmary was silent except for their breathing. The tea had stopped sloshing. The scattered papers lay still.

Anna’s hand found his, still pressed against her stomach, and she held it there.

"You’re late for class," she said, her voice wrecked.

"Worth it."

She laughed, soft and breathless, and turned her head to look at him over her shoulder.

"Clean up. There’s a towel in the cabinet."

He kissed her shoulder.

"Yes, Head Nurse Miles."

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