She’s lying—not completely, but partially. There’s more she isn’t saying.
Her teeth catch her bottom lip, worrying it as she glances down at the signed papers in her hand. The gesture is sensual, revealing an embarrassment she’s trying desperately to hide.
The sight of her biting her lip sends blood rushing south. I adjust myself discreetly, my erection straining against expensive fabric as I stand. The movement draws her eyes momentarily before she looks away, that blush deepening.
I circle the desk slowly, like a predator approaching wary prey. When I reach her chair, I place my hands on either armrest, caging her in without touching. I lean down until my lips nearly brush her ear.
“You’re holding back,” I whisper, my voice low enough that she has to remain perfectly still to hear me. “What’s the real reason you’re here, Sadie?”
Her sharp intake of breath hits me like electricity, the sound shooting straight to my cock. She smells even better this close.
“I...” She swallows hard, her throat working beneath delicate skin. “This is embarrassing.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“I’ve only ever had very... boring sexual encounters,” she admits. “My ex—I want to know what I was missing. What it could be like with someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”
Melvin.
Her ex was a mediocre systems analyst. Beige personality, beige ambitions. The type who’d consider adventurous sex to be leaving a lamp on. The fact that he had access to this woman’s body and wasted the opportunity makes my jaw clench.
“And you think the Hunt will show you?” I remain close, breath fanning against her neck.
“Maybe.” Her body tenses against mine. “Won’t it?”
I can’t help the smile that curves my lips. “Oh, Sadie. Your ex-boyfriend probably kept you in missionary position, didn’t he? Lights off, quiet, efficient. Just enough effort to get himself off.” I trace one finger along the armrest, just beside her hand. “The Hunt will give you more than a taste of what you’ve been missing.”
Her breath catches as she holds my gaze.
“It’ll blow your fucking mind.” The profanity feels strange on my tongue. I rarely resort to crude language. Her confession of sexual disappointment cracks something open in me, dragging out the rawness I try to bury.
I lean closer, watching her pupils dilate at my words and proximity. “You’ll see things that will make you forget how to breathe. Women on their knees, begging. Men surrendering control they never relinquish elsewhere. Pain and pleasure so intertwined you won’t be able to discern where one ends and the other begins.”
The pulse at her throat quickens visibly. I track its rhythm, cataloging her response as meticulously as I track everything else about her.
“I could tie you to a St. Andrew’s cross,” I continue, my voice dropping lower. “Spread your legs until your muscles burn with the stretch. I could make you come until you’re sobbing, until you’re begging me to stop—and then push you further still.”
Her breathing changes, becoming shallow. The blush on her cheeks spreads down her neck, disappearing beneath her blouse. I imagine following it with my tongue, tasting the salt of her skin.
“I could fuck with that brilliant mind of yours until you forget every line of code you’ve ever written. Until the only pattern you can process is the rhythm of my cock inside you.”
The words are filthy, explicit in a way I’d never speak in any other context. Yet they pour from me with startling ease.
“I could make you crawl for me. Make you thank me for every orgasm. Make you count each stroke of my belt across that perfect ass before you earn the right to come.”
Her lips part, the tip of her tongue darting out to wet them. I track the movement, filing away this evidence of her arousal.
“Is that what you want, Sadie? To surrender that beautiful mind to someone who knows exactly how to use it—and your body—until you’re shattered and remade?”
She meets my gaze, and for a moment, a current of hunger that makes the air in Xavier’s office feel charged passes between us.
“I don’t know what you’re suggesting,” she says, voice steady. “I’m just here to deliver the signed NDA and invitation as requested. Nothing more.”
She extends the documents toward me, creating distance between us with the simple gesture. Her fingers tremble almost imperceptibly. Evidence of her affected state despite her composed exterior.
“Of course.” I force myself to step back. The primitive part of my brain screams to close the distance, to press her against the nearest surface until she admits what’s happening betweenus. Instead, I take the papers from her hand, careful to avoid brushing her fingers with mine.
The urge to bend her over Xavier’s desk is overwhelming—to hike up that skirt, tear away whatever sensible underwear she’s wearing, and fuck her until she screams my name. Until that brilliant mind of hers short-circuits with pleasure. Until she forgets everything she knows and can only process the feeling of me inside her.
