My brain melts. What is it about this man? His voice—low, commanding, like he's issuing orders on a scene—turns me into absolute putty. Noah's dominance is playful, teasing; Evan's feels equal, tender. But Hale... I swear I'd drop to my knees and crawl if he told me to.
“Lila?”
“Hm?”
“I need you to say yes.”
“Yes?”
He smirks, dark eyes gleaming. “Do you want me to touch you?”
“Oh. Yes.” The word tumbles out breathless, desperate.
That earns me the widest smile I've ever seen from him—genuine, wicked, transforming his stern face into something dangerously addictive.
“Sit on the desk.”
I hop up, the cool wood pressing against the backs of my thighs as my skirt rides higher. I expect him to stand, tower over me like he always does, pin me down and finally take me right here—rough, clothed, frantic.
But he stays seated, rolling his chair closer. His hands leave my sweater, and a disappointed whine escapes before I can stop it. He chuckles, deep and rumbling.
Then those big, callused hands slide under my skirt hem, gripping the backs of my calves. He holds my gaze—unblinking, intense—as he lifts my left leg, draping my heel on the armrest of his chair. Then the right. I'm spread wide for him now, thighs trembling, completely exposed except for the scrap of lace between us.
Instinct screams to snap my legs shut, hide how soaked I am, but his eyes flash with warning.Don't you dare.
His fingers trail up, pushing the skirt higher, bunching it at my hips. “Hold this for me.”
I obey instantly, clutching the fabric, arching back on one elbow to offer myself up. The air hits my damp panties, cool against the heat pulsing there.
Hale groans, low and guttural, leaning in to press open-mouthed kisses along my inner thigh—slow, lingering, starting near my knee and working higher. Each one brands me, his stubble scraping deliciously, his breath hot against my skin.
He adjusts my legs wider over his broad shoulders, muscles flexing under his shirt. With one sharp tug, he yanks my thong aside, exposing my slick folds to the air—and to him.
No warning. His tongue flattens against me in one long, firm lick from entrance to clit, tasting me like he's starved.
I throw my head back, a strangled whimper ripping free as pleasure explodes through me.
He pulls back just enough for his warm breath to tease my sensitive flesh. “As much as I’d love to hear you scream my name, you need to be quiet, Lila. Can you do that for me?”
“Mmhmm,” I gasp, nodding frantically.
“Good girl.”
Then he's on me again—merciless, expert. His tongue circles my clit in tight, relentless swirls before sucking it between his lips, flicking the tip rapidly. Two thick fingers slide inside me without resistance, curling forward to stroke that spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids. He pumps them in time with his mouth, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet office, mingling with my muffled moans.
I'm climbing fast—too fast—thighs quaking around his head. When the orgasm hits, it's blinding; my pussy clenches around his fingers, waves of heat crashing as I grind shamelessly against his face, biting my lip bloody to stay silent.
He doesn't stop. His mouth softens but keeps going, lapping gently through the aftershocks, then building again with firm sucks and deeper thrusts of his fingers.
“Hale—it's too much,” I whisper-shout, squirming, oversensitive and overwhelmed.
He looks up, chin glistening with me, eyes black with lust. “One more for me, Lila.”
The command undoes me. I nod, helpless, and he dives back in—tongue thrusting inside me now alongside his fingers, nose grinding against my clit. The second climax builds slower but hits harder, ripping a silent cry from my throat as I shatter again, flooding his mouth.
He finally eases off, pressing soothing kisses to my trembling thighs as I sag against the desk, dizzy and boneless.
“Again?” he murmurs, voice husky, almost innocent.
