Page 10 of Silver Fox's Christmas Scandal
“Good.” His fingers slid under the lace and found heat. The first stroke made my knees loosen. The second had me breathing hard. “You’re wet enough that I could take you right here.”
“Yes, Sir," I moaned. Shame and want tangled and pulled in the same direction.
He pulled his hand away, and the absence left me shaky and aching for it to return. “Stand up.” My body responded before thought caught up, and when I straightened, he tipped my chin so I couldn’t look anywhere but at him.
His eyes stayed on mine as his knuckle brushed the damp fabric between my legs. The panties were useless now, clinging and soaked.
“Take them off.”
I hooked my thumbs into the lace and slid them down, stepping out of the scrap of fabric while his gaze tracked every movement.
Heat crept up my neck as I straightened again, bare under the firelight, hands locked at the base of my spine where he’d told me to keep them.
“That’s better.” His touch returned, unshielded now, two fingers gliding through the moisture he’d already coaxed from me. The deliberate pace stole my breath, each stroke a reminder that I was exactly where he wanted me—open, obedient, waiting.
His fingers worked inside me, every thrust angled to keep me fighting for balance.
I held my wrists tight behind me the way he’d ordered, my chest lifting as my breath grew ragged.
When he circled my clit once with his thumb and pulled back, the denial was almost painful. My legs shook, and I clenched hard to keep still, determined not to move until he allowed it.
Lucian's hand left me and climbed to the band of my bra. He dragged a knuckle across the thin lace until my nipple hardened against the fabric. “Off.” The command landed heavily.
I reached up, unfastened the clasp, and let the straps fall. The lace slipped down my arms and dropped to the floor and his eyes swept over my chest.
He cupped both breasts and rolled my nipples between his fingers until I arched into his hands, a moan breaking free before I could stop it.
His grip tightened as he kneaded both breasts, his thumbs working my nipples until they ached.
I bit down on the sound building in my throat, but it broke free when he bent and closed his mouth over one, sucking hard before dragging his teeth across the tip.
My hands strained behind me, useless, while my body arched into the rough attention. He switched sides, tugging the other peak into his mouth until I shivered from the sharp pull of heat racing down my stomach.
He straightened, lips wet, his gaze fixed on my face as his hand dropped back between my thighs.
Two fingers slid inside again, deeper this time, his thumb rubbing over my clit with steady pressure.
My legs trembled as the tension built higher, every nerve firing at once. He worked me to the edge, then stopped cold, leaving me gasping, slick, and empty.
He crowded me back until the edge of the counter pressed into my hips. The firelight painted his face in shifting gold, his eyes fixed on mine as his hand slid along my thigh. I gripped the counter behind me for balance, my breath coming fast.
“You’ve been right here in front of me for years, Tessa,” he said, “and I never allowed myself to think about this. Now I can’t stop.”
The confession stole what little breath I had left. I lifted my chin, forcing steadiness into my answer. “Then don’t.”
His mouth crashed onto mine. His tongue left me gasping, his hand sliding higher until his fingers filled me.
The stretch pulled another sound from my throat, and I broke against the counter, clinging for balance as he thrust his fingers into me.
“This shouldn’t be happening,” I whispered because suddenly, the impropriety of it all made it feel that much more intense.
This was my boss. I was just his assistant, and I was naked in his kitchen while he was fingering me.
“It is.” His breath brushed my ear, his hand working me harder. “And you’re going to say yes to me tonight.”
“Yes, Sir.”
His fingers pulled free, leaving me shaking against the counter. I barely caught my breath before he stepped back just enough to shove his briefs down. The sight of him bare snapped every nerve awake again.
