Page 14 of Saved By the CEO

“Okay. Cool.”Coolcoolcoolcool.“I guess we’ll just… start then.”

I lie down on the bed. My heart races, and blood rushes to my already fevered cheeks. I glance over as he removes his jacket and folds it neatly over the back of the chair. Then he rolls up the sleeves of his white button-down, revealing muscled forearms. My eyes linger there for a few seconds before drifting down to his hands. He has manly hands. Large, slightly rough, with long fingers. Hands that sign contracts and point out mistakes in documents and tap impatiently against conference tables. Hands I’ve pretended not to think about before.

I quickly look away, afraid I’ll be caught ogling him.

“I washed my hands before we came in here.”

“Great,” I say, giving him the thumbs-up.

The thumbs-up.

I realize I also need to prepare and start undoing my fly. It’s awkward, to say the least. I think about pulling my pants down a bit, but then decide not to. He’ll find his way.

Mr. Bennett respectfully turns his head away and reaches out his hand. He’s fumbling a bit, as if he’s afraid of actually touching me. It’s strange, seeing him like this. He’s always so decisive at work. So crisp and exact and irritatingly sure of himself. But now his hand is hovering near my hip, a little uncertain. It’s weirdly endearing.

With slightly shaky hands, I grab his and guide his fingers to the edge of my underwear. I hear him swallow as he carefully slips his fingers beneath the thin cotton.

My boss has his hand inside my panties.

I feel hot all over and, to my utter mortification, realize I am aroused. Not just a little either. My body, traitorous piece ofgarbage that it is, has apparently decided this is the correct time to become wildly enthusiastic. I look down and see my nipples saying hello through my shirt and bra.

Of fucking course.

His fingers touch the soft hair between my legs, and I hold my breath. As his middle finger slides into my folds, it becomes clear to both of us that I am soaking wet.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s, uh, been a while.”

His fingers pause for the briefest second before continuing. “Don’t apologize.” The words come out rough. “It makes it easier.”

He finds my clit right away, and I let out a small gasp as he presses softly against it. I wasn’t lying. It has been a while since anyone touched me like that.

He’s careful at first, like he’s trying to figure me out. Like he’s paying attention to every breath, every twitch, every humiliating little sound I fail to keep inside.

He applies more pressure, and I have to fight the urge to grab my breast and push against him.

It’s supposed to be clinical. I know that.But it’s so fucking hot.Mr. Bennett is a walking wet dream, and he’s touching me, and he’s my boss, and it feels so forbidden and?—

I let out a moan.

I did not mean to do that.

He loses his rhythm for one unmistakable beat, then he resumes the same careful circles as if nothing happened.

He lightly pinches my clit and rolls it between his fingers, then circles it again, using the wetness gathered there to make everything slick and unbearable.

My back arches.

Fuck.He’s good.

He’s really, really good.

He keeps going like that. Pinching, rolling, circling. Each movement feels small and almost restrained, but my body reacts like he’s doing something much more obscene. Heat spreads through me in slow, heavy waves, loosening everything the fever made tight. My thoughts start to blur at the edges.

It feels like I’m floating. I’m not in a sterile white hospital room, being fingered by my boss. I’m somewhere else entirely. Somewhere warm and dark and airless, where there is only the sound of my breathing and the steady movement of his fingers between my legs.

Something starts building inside me.

At first, I think it’s the usual climb. But then it keeps growing. Spreading. Deepening. It doesn’t feel like other times. It feels sharper than that. Bigger.