"Don't be," I beg, shaking harder. I blink hard, trying to take a deep breath.
He hooks his fingers under the delicate strings at my hips and drags the panties down my legs, slow enough that I feel every second of exposure. When they're gone, he spreads my thighs wider, settling between them like he belongs there.
Then he stares.
Time freezes, growing hotter until I'm about to burst from anticipation.
Red glides his knuckles from my pussy up my torso, then grabs the neckline of my dress. "You'll never be innocent again, Bluebird."
"I know," I admit, meeting his gaze.
"Tell me to stop."
"No. Own me. Take what's yours," I manage to get out.
The corners of his mouth twitch. His other hand grabs more material, and he rips my dress in two, right down the middle.
I gasp, my lips shaking with excitement.
He slides a hand behind my back, unlatches my bra, then circles his thumbs over the lace on my nipples, before sliding it past my arms. Then he pushes my thighs wider.
I've never been this open with anyone, and I've never wanted to be. But with him, I want to give everything.
He lowers his head and presses a kiss to the inside of my knee.
I arch off the bed.
He chuckles, then he moves his lips higher, open-mouthed and hot, working his way up.
My hips lift without permission, seeking more. When his tongue finally slides through my folds, slow and deliberate, I cry out, fingers clutching the sheets.
He doesn't rush. He tastes me like he's memorizing me, long licks and gentle circles around my clit that make my thighs shake against his shoulders. Every time I get close, he backs off, soothing with soft kisses until I'm whining, begging, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.
"Please… Red, please…"
Only then does he slide one thick finger inside me, curling it slowly, exquisitely stretching me. He adds a second, scissoring gently, prying me open while his tongue returns to my clit with devastating precision.
I come hard, back bowing off the bed, his name a broken sob on my lips. He doesn't stop, drawing it out until I'm trembling, oversensitive, pushing weakly at his shoulders.
He rises, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes locked on mine. He slowly removes his shirt. His broad chest, dusted with dark hair, narrows to the waistband of his trousers.
I sit up and reach for his belt with shaking fingers, fumbling until he brushes my hands away and does it himself.
When he pushes his trousers down, his cock springs free, thick and flushed, a bead of moisture at the tip.
My mouth goes dry.
He looks bigger than I remember from under his desk.
"Still want this?" he asks, gripping his cock, enlarging it further.
I swallow hard. "Please."
He leans over me again, kissing me softly this time. "We'll go slow. You tell me if it's too much."
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Only if that's what you want."
A tiny groan escapes his throat. He warns, "Careful. If I give you what I want instead of what's slow, you won't forget it."
