Page 65 of Twins for the Off-Limits Lawyer

Her blouse fell open under my fingers, revealing the lace of her bra, the swell of her breasts.

I paused, drinking in the sight of her, the way her chest rose and fell with her ragged breaths. She was a tempest, a force I couldn’t control, and I loved her for it.

“You’re killing me,”I groaned, my lips brushing the hollow of her throat.“You know that, right?”

She laughed, a shaky sound that broke something inside me.“Then let me,”she said, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me back to her lips.“Let me kill you, Edward. Let me be the last thing you feel.”

Her words were a challenge, a dare, and I rose to meet it.

My hands slid down her waist, slipping beneath her skirt, finding the bare skin of her thighs. She shivered, her nails digging into my back, as I traced the edges of her lace panties, teasing the line where fabric met skin.

“Edward,”she gasped, her hips arching into my touch.

With a swift motion, I tore the flimsy barrier away, her gasp of surprise mingling with a moan of anticipation. She was wet, impossibly so, her arousal coating my fingers as I slipped inside her.

“Fuck,”she whispered, her head falling back, exposing the long line of her throat.“You have no idea what you do to me.”

I did know. I knew the way her body responded to mine, the way she trembled when I touched her, the way she clung to me like I was her only lifeline.

But knowing didn’t make it any easier. It only made the ache in my chest sharper, the fear of losing her more real.

I kissed my way down her body, my lips trailing over her breasts, her stomach, until I was kneeling before her, her legs draped over my shoulders. She was a sight to behold, her eyes dark with desire, her lips parted in a silent plea.

“Don’t stop,”she whispered, her hands tangling in my hair.

I didn’t. I buried my face between her thighs, my tongue tracing the contours of her, tasting her sweetness, her desperation. She cried out, her body arching off the desk, her fingers clutching at the air as if to anchor herself.

“Say it again,”I murmured, my lips brushing her most sensitive spot.“Say you love me.”

“I love you,”she gasped, her voice raw and broken.“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Her words were a mantra, a prayer, and they shattered something inside me. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I rose to my feet, my trousers unbearably tight, my member throbbing with need. I ripped open my belt, my underpants falling to the floor, and stepped closer, my body pressing against hers.I thrust into her, filling her in one swift motion, her gasp of pleasure echoing in the silent room. She was tight, impossibly so, her body gripping me like a vice. I groaned, my head falling back, as I savored the feel of her, the way she enveloped me, and claimed me as her own.

We moved together, our bodies finding a rhythm that was both familiar and desperate. The desk creaked beneath us, the papers scattering further as we sought connection in the face of impending separation. Every thrust was a plea, every kiss a goodbye, every touch a promise we both knew might be broken by morning.

“Edward,”she whispered, her nails digging into my back.“Harder.”

I gripped her hips, pulling her closer, driving into her with a ferocity that bordered on violence. The room was filled with the sound of our bodies colliding, the wet slap of skin on skin, our ragged breaths intertwining.

“Fuck,”I groaned, my control slipping away.“Lili, I’m—”

“Don’t stop,”she pleaded, her body tightening around me.“Not yet. Not ever.”

I thrust into her harder, faster, our bodies moving as one, our breaths syncing as we climbed toward the edge.

“Together,”I whispered, my lips brushing hers.“Always together.”

She nodded, her eyes locked on mine, as we teetered on the brink. And then, with a cry that was equal parts pleasure andpain, we fell, our bodies convulsing, our release crashing over us like a wave.

I collapsed on top of her, my forehead pressing against hers, our hearts pounding in unison.

The room was silent, save for our ragged breaths and the distant hum of the city outside.

We lay together on the leather sofa in my office, her head on my chest while I traced patterns on her bare shoulder. The late afternoon light streaming through the windows felt like a spotlight on our vulnerability.

"What happens now?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know. The photograph will be published tomorrow. There will be questions, investigations, consequences for both of us."

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