Page 16 of Silver Fox's Secret Triplets
“Then show me,” I whispered. “Show me how much.”
He thrust forward, slow at first, and my mouth fell open as he filled me. My fingers locked behind his neck. My heels dug into the backs of his legs. And for a second, everything else disappeared—every consequence, every lie, every secret still sitting between us.
Duncan's deep, guttural groan reverberated against my mouth as he slid inch by excruciating inch into my aching core. It had been too long, far too long since I'd felt him like this. Heat washed over me in waves, and I couldn't contain a moan of pleasure as he finally sheathed himself fully inside me.
"I missed this," he groaned, his voice ragged in my ear. "You feel so good." His hips started to move, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in, harder this time. I bit down onmy lip to muffle a moan, and he growled in response. "That's it, baby. Let me hear you."
I arched my back as Duncan picked up the pace. Heat pooled low in my belly, and I knew I was close again, already. His thrusts were relentless, claiming me in a way that both scared and thrilled me.
"Oh god, Ivy," he panted in my ear. "You feel so… so good." His hips slammed against mine with increasing force, his grip on my hips bruising but oh so perfect as he angled us just right. "I can't… I can't hold on much longer."
"Neither can I," I gasped out between kisses.
I clenched around him, my nails digging into his shoulders as my second orgasm crept closer, balancing precariously on the edge. "Duncan… I'm… oh god…" I panted.
"That's it," he growled, his breath hot in my ear. "Come for me, Ivy. I want to feel you come apart in my arms again."
His words were the final push I needed. My climax washed over me in a blinding wave of pleasure, and I cried out his name as my body convulsed around him. Duncan's fingers dug into my hips, his thrusts erratic as he joined me over the edge, groaning into the side of my neck.
I felt him empty himself into me and the slow lingering kiss he offered made me forget my own name.
We stayed pressed together for several long moments, both of us breathing heavily in the aftermath. The elevator felt smaller now, more intimate, filled with the scent of our bodies and the echo of what we had done.
Duncan pulled back first, his hands gentle as he helped me pick up my panties, straighten my skirt, and smooth my hair. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as he adjusted my blouse and made sure every button was properly fastened. The tenderness in his movements made my chest ache with emotions I wasn't ready to name.
"You're beautiful," he murmured, his fingers trailing along my jawline. "More beautiful than I remembered."
The compliment should have made me feel confident, desired. Instead, it triggered a wave of anxiety that threatened to drown me. Beautiful women didn't disappear for four years without explanation. Beautiful women didn't hide life-altering secrets from the men they claimed to care about.
"Duncan, what we did?—"
"Was incredible." He cut off my protest with a soft kiss, his lips barely brushing mine. "And I meant what I said earlier. Whatever happened in your past, whatever you think might change how I feel about you, it won't. I'm not going anywhere this time."
His words were meant to reassure me, but they only intensified the guilt gnawing at my stomach. He was making promises based on incomplete information, declarations of commitment without knowing the full scope of what he was committing to.
I nodded anyway, not trusting my voice to remain steady if I tried to speak. Duncan reached over and pressed the button to restart the elevator before quickly righting his own clothing and putting his still-moist dick back in his pants; the machinery hummed back to life around us. The display showed we were still on the ground floor, though it felt as if we had traveled much farther.
"Your meeting," I said, grasping for normalcy as the doors opened to reveal the familiar marble lobby. "The board meeting at nine. Do you need me to reschedule anything else on your calendar?"
Duncan stepped out beside me, his hand briefly touching the small of my back as we walked toward his office suite. The gesture was possessive and protective, and I wondered if anyone watching would be able to tell what had happened between us.
"The Peterson contract review at eleven can be moved to next week," he said, falling easily into work discussion. "And cancel my lunch with the Hartwell Group. I'd rather spend the time going over the quarterly projections with you."
I pulled out my phone and made notes as we walked, grateful for the distraction of scheduling and logistics. Work was safe territory, neutral ground where I could function without the constant fear of revealing too much.
"What about the Morrison files? They've been sitting on your desk since Tuesday."
"I'll handle those personally. If you see any other documents related to Morrison Industries, forward them directly to me without reviewing them first."
His tone was casual, but I caught the underlying emphasis on the word personally. The Morrison files had seemed routine when I'd first noticed them—merger agreements and financial statements that looked standard for any mid-level acquisition. But Duncan's insistence on handling them alone suggested they were more significant than they appeared.
"Of course. Is there anything specific I should know about Morrison Industries?"
"Nothing that affects your work directly." He held open the door to my office, waiting for me to enter first. "They're a long-term strategic consideration. I'll brief you if it becomes relevant to your daily responsibilities."
I settled behind my desk and powered on my computer, already mentally organizing the day ahead. Duncan lingered in the doorway for a moment, his eyes taking in the way I had arranged the space over the past few days. I had added a small plant to the windowsill and reorganized the filing system to match my own preferences.
"Ivy."
