His hand slipped under my skirt, fingertips grazing my inner thighs. My body lit up like it was on fire, melting under his touch.
Damn it, why was my body always so brutally honest?
"Igor," I gasped. "We can't do this here—ah!"
His fingers pressed against my pussy through my panties, sending electric shocks through me even with the thin fabric in the way.
"Your mouth is saying no," he whispered in my ear, his voice sinfully sexy. "But your body is telling the truth, baby. You're already soaking wet."
Shame burned in me, and I wanted to argue, but his fingers started circling, rubbing my clit through the drenched material. My comeback dissolved into a stifled moan.
"Look at you," he pulled back slightly, drinking in my reactions. "So damn sensitive. I haven't even done anything yet, and you're this wet."
"It's all your fault," I bit my lip, trying not to moan. "You always, always..."
"Always what?" He raised an eyebrow, smirking devilishly. "Always make you drip for me?"
Suddenly, he tore off my panties, the move rough and full of possession. Cool air rushed against my heated core, making me shiver.
"Spread your legs," he commanded.
"Igor."
"Spread them," his tone brooked no argument, pure authority. "Let me see how much you want me."
My face flushed hot, but I obeyed, parting my legs on the edge of the desk, completely exposed to him.
He let out a satisfied groan. "Perfect."
Then he dropped to his knees.
"Wait, you're going to—" Panic surged, and I tried to close my legs, but he gripped my thighs, holding them firmly apart.
"I'm going to taste every inch of you," he looked up, his eyes pure, unfiltered lust.
His tongue flicked over my most sensitive spot.
"Ah!" I cried out, my hands scrambling into his hair.
His tongue was nimble and teasing—sometimes darting quickly over my clit, sometimes lapping slowly across my entire pussy, sometimes probing into my wet entrance. Each stroke hit my pleasure points with precision, my body arching like a taut bowstring.
"Igor, oh God!" My voice came out in broken gasps. "It's too... too much..."
He lifted his head, his chin glistening with my arousal in the light. "Too much? Baby, I've only just begun."
His fingers slid inside—one, then two. They were thick, stretching me with a slight ache, but overwhelming pleasure. He thrust them slowly while his mouth returned to suck on that swollen bud.
"No, I'm going to—" I felt the orgasm building, waves stacking higher and higher.
Right then, footsteps echoed outside. Then a knock. Terror locked my throat, and I couldn't respond.
"Elena?" It was Anna's voice. "Are you in there? I thought you were here earlier."
My eyes widened in horror, and I tried to push Igor away, but he only sucked harder, his fingers moving faster.
"Shh, stay quiet," he looked up, his eyes like a predator's, smirking softly. "Unless you want her to know exactly what we're doing in here."
"Igor, please," I begged in a hushed whisper, the pleasure teetering on the brink.
