Page 77 of Silver Fox's Christmas Scandal
Her hips met mine with every thrust, her body gripping around me as if she were made for this rhythm. The sight of her body taking me so greedily made my vision blur with need.
“You feel how deep I am?” I ground out, voice rough. “No one’s ever filled you like this.”
She sobbed, pushing back on me, her body clenching with each thrust.
I slid my free hand around her front, fingers finding her clit. I rubbed hard, and she wailed, her body jerking as she came again, pulsing around me, soaking my cock.
The wet squeeze of her undid me. I hammered into her through it, every stroke a battle against my own release.
The pressure coiled too tight, too fast, and I buried myself to the hilt, groaning loud as I spilled inside her.
Hot release flooded her, my cock pulsing deep as I held her hips pinned against me.
My chest heaved with ragged breaths, sweat rolling down my spine as I rode out every last spasm inside her.
She collapsed onto the bed, trembling, and I fell with her, still buried deep, refusing to let her go. My mouth found her shoulder, biting down lightly before dragging my tongue across damp skin.
“You drive me insane,” I rasped against her ear. My body still twitched with aftershocks, cock still hard inside her despite the release I’d just had. “And I can’t stop wanting you."
She turned her head, lips brushing mine in a kiss that was softer than I deserved. The contentment on her face made my chest ache with emotions I could never admit to.
I wanted to tell her I loved her. The words burned in my throat, desperate to escape, but I couldn't form them.
Because saying them out loud would be to go back on my word of supporting her dream of being an independent mother.
It would mean admitting that she'd become everything to me, that losing her would destroy me more completely than losing Cross Capital ever could.
If I told her how I felt, I'd have to face the possibility that she didn't feel the same way. That what we had was physical attraction and convenience, nothing more.
That she thought I was too old for her, or that she had her whole life ahead of her and didn’t want to waste it on something that wouldn't work. The thought of seeing pity in her eyes when I confessed my feelings was unbearable.
But worse than that was the knowledge of what loving me would cost her. Viktoria's attacks would intensify the moment she realized Tessa mattered to me.
The board's skepticism would turn to outright hostility. Her career, her future, everything she'd worked for—it would all be collateral damage in a war she never asked to fight.
How could I ask her to sacrifice everything for a man whose own board of directors wanted him gone? How could I drag her through the scandal that was coming, the vicious public attention, the character assassination Viktoria specialized in?
She deserved better than the mess I'd made of my life. She deserved someone who could offer her a future without the constant threat of scandal, someone whose love wouldn't come with such devastating consequences.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked softly, cupping my cheek.
"You." The admission slipped out before I could stop it. "How beautiful you are. How much I—" I caught myself before the words could escape, settling for safer ground. "How much I needed this. You."
She lifted her head to look at me, and the tenderness in her expression nearly undid my resolve. "I needed this too."
She grew silent for a while, and I tried to memorize the feeling of her in my arms, the peace that settled over me when she was close. Because no matter how much I wanted to keep her, I couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out.
Eventually, she stirred, glancing at the clock on my nightstand. "I should go. Early meeting tomorrow."
I watched her slide out of bed and begin gathering her clothes, even while I was internally screaming for her to stay.
I wanted her in my bed all night, the way we used to sleep on business trips.
The sight of her getting dressed, preparing to leave, made my chest tighten with dread. These stolen hours never felt long enough.
As she reached for her purse, I caught her hand, pulling her back to me. My forehead rested against hers, and I breathed in her scent, trying to hold onto this moment.
"It's getting harder," I admitted in a moment of vulnerability. "Pretending this doesn't consume my every thought. Acting professional when all I want is to pull you into my office and?—"
