- D O M I N I C • P O V -
She was on my desk.
Not standing.
Not hovering.
Sitting.
Her legs pressed tightly together like she thought that small act of restraint could save her-or me-from what had already snapped between us.
My chest rose and fell heavily, tattoos stretching over muscle as I tried to remember the last time I'd lost control like this. I didn't kiss. I didn't hesitate. I took.
And yet her lips were swollen, marked by a kiss I shouldn't have given.
Her body trembled beneath my hands-small, soft, untouched in ways that made something vicious coil in my chest. Innocent didn't belong in my world, and yet here she was, sitting on my desk like she'd been carved for it.
Her hair was no longer neat, strands falling out of place, framing her flushed face. My eyes dragged down without permission. White blouse. Buttoned. Proper.
Useless.
She was wearing a bra today-I could tell-but it did nothing to hide the way her nipples pressed insistently against the fabric, betraying her nerves, her fear... her body.
I smirked as my fingers moved to the first button of her blouse.
Slow.
Intentional.
Her breath caught immediately. A sharp gasp as my knuckle brushed her skin, her hands flying up on instinct-small, shaking, cold as they wrapped around my wrist. She squirmed on the desk beneath me like she didn't know whether she wanted to push me away or pull me closer.
"Mr. Der-"
I stopped.
Just like that. Mid-button.
My eyes lifted to hers, dark and daring. "Say it," I murmured. "One last time."
She exhaled slowly, frustration flickering across her face. She always had something smart to say-except now. Her teeth caught her lower lip instead, and she shook her head.
Not today.
That was all I needed.
"Dominic," I corrected, my voice low and sharp.
Her gaze dropped, then lifted again, green eyes wide as they met mine.
I shouldn't have touched her again.
I did anyway.
My fingers slid to her other knee, testing, not forcing-yet. She tensed immediately, thighs pressing together like a barricade. Like she thought she could stop this just by holding on.
I leaned in, close enough that she could feel my breath.
"This is you stopping me?" I murmured.
Her answer came out shaky. "Stop."
The word was right.
The way she said it wasn't.
I stilled. My grip tightened for half a second-then loosened. My thumb brushed once, controlled, deliberate, and she sucked in a breath like I'd branded her.
I finished unbuttoning her blouse slowly, deliberately, letting the fabric fall open inch by inch. When it finally parted, my breath caught despite myself.
Red lace.
Fitted perfectly to her body like it knew it belonged there. The sight of it against her skin sent heat roaring straight through me.
And then-
I didn't bother being gentle.
I tore it away.
Her gasp was sharp, broken, almost shocked as the fabric disappeared from her body. She crossed her arms over herself instantly, hugging her chest, trembling like she'd been exposed to something far more dangerous than my office.
Her nipples hardened instantly, pebbled and tight, betraying her no matter how hard she tried to hide.
I hated it.
Hated that she was covering perfection.
I grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms down, forcing her open to my stare.
"Don't," she whispered.
Soft. Needy. Ruined.
The sound of it went straight to my cock.
I didn't touch her. Not yet.
I just looked.
Drank her in.
"Tiny," I murmured, voice low and reverent. "Pretty little thing."
Her breath hitched.
I leaned in and laid her back against the desk, the glass cool beneath her skin. Her gasp echoed in the room as I caged her in, my presence swallowing her whole.
I lowered my mouth to her chest, not touching-not yet-just close enough that she felt my breath. When my lips finally brushed her nipples, she whimpered, soft and broken, and that sound snapped something inside me.
I'd never done this before.
Foreplay was pointless. Efficient men didn't linger.
But her? She made me slow down. Made me savor. Made me break my own rules.
Her fingers grip my arm as I kiss her slowly, deliberately, until her body melted against mine. Her breath came in uneven little gasps, her lips trembling as she bit down on them like she was trying not to beg.
I grabbed her suddenly, and the sharp little gasp that tore from her lips hit me like fire. Her body collided with mine, soft, warm, and all mine in that instant.
She tried to catch her breath, lips parting, fragile little gasps rattling out as I lifted her effortlessly, feeling her weightless in my arms.
I set her back down on the desk, slow, deliberate, every movement precise, almost brutal. She froze, knees pressed tightly together, instinctively trying to guard herself.
I let out a low, dark laugh, the sound vibrating in my chest.
"Trying to protect yourself?" I murmured, letting my fingers brush over the curve of her thigh. "That won't work tonight."
Her gaze flicked up at me, wide, a little startled, a little helpless-and utterly mine.
Everything about her-the way she breathed, the way her body responded even when she tried not to-was undoing me.
I had no intention of stopping.
But then-her thighs pressed together again.
Like she could hide from me. Like she could stop what was already happening.
I exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring as I reached down and grabbed her knees, prying them apart, forcing her open for me. A quiet whimper slipped from her lips, and fuck-if she wasn't trying to deny how much she wanted this.
"Stop," she breathed out, barely above a whisper. But the way she said it-soft, breathy, laced with need-had my blood turning molten.
"That's not what you mean," I growled, gripping her thighs tighter.
She shivered, her nails digging into the desk, and when I dragged my gaze lower-
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
A sharp, strangled growl ripped from my throat the second I saw what she was wearing.
Red lace.
Thin, delicate, fucking sinful.
The damn thing barely covered anything. The small, sheer fabric stretched over her soaked core, doing absolutely nothing to hide how drenched she was.
My breathing turned rough, uneven.
Holy fuck.
I could see everything.
The thin lace was ruined, soaked through, her arousal slipping through the tiny openings, glistening against her soft skin.
"Shit..." I muttered, dragging a hand down my face, my jaw tightening. My cock throbbed against my zipper, straining, demanding-because I had never seen anything like this. Never seen a woman this fucking wet.
"You're dripping, sweetheart," I murmured, dragging a finger along the soaked lace, watching as she shuddered beneath my touch. "You gonna tell me you don't want this?"
She swallowed, her lips parting, but no words came out.
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