Page 22 of Silver Fox Grump

Fear spikes in me. This isn’t like last time, when he charmed and seduced me. This is a demand by a powerful man, who is used to getting his own way.

What will he think if I say no? Or worse, yes.

My hands are on the hem of my dress without my volition. It’s as though, despite the sparks of worry—someone might catch us, someone could see, he might think I’m a slut—I trust my boss so entirely I can’t fathom not doing what he says. My body knows that I’m his, even as my mind squeaks that this wasn’t what I asked for.

He breathes heavily through his nose as I lift my skirt up.

And up. And up. He’s so big, it’s intimidating revealing myself at his command. Then it’s at my waist, and I can’t go further.

“Good girl.” The praise reverberates through me like a long high note in a song. His gaze sweeps over my plain white cotton panties, his gaze going dark. Then he grasps the lace elastic of the waistband. Dragging it down, he rasps, “Lift.”

I shuffle my bottom as best I can to let him pull them off.

He slides them efficiently off my legs and stuffs them into his pocket.

“Your next lesson is to take what I give you and be very quiet, so we aren’t caught.” He grips my neck and pulls my face to his, his breath ghosting over my lips. “Do you understand?”

I nod eagerly.

“Spread.”

I hesitate. That’s so embarrassing. So bad. So naughty.

“Now,” he grunts. “We don’t have much time before my nosey brothers come looking for us.”

My muscles almost creak as I part my thighs.

“Yes. More.” Then he’s dropped to his knees before me and pushes my legs wider apart, until I’m completely open and exposed.

And I would feel terrible, ashamed, my face heating, but Sev looks at the slit between my legs as though it’s food, water and shelter, and he’s a man starving after a month alone in the desert. A year. More. A lifetime.

“Maisie,” he groans. “So beautiful.”

Before I can reply, he’s pressing kisses all the way around my core, so passionate that any denial dies in my throat. He’s fervent. It’s shocking how keen he is. I’m slightly confused, then he gets to my slit.

“Perfectly juicy, and wet,” he growls, and gives me a lick that makes my whole body jerk with pleasure.

Footsteps echo down the hallway just outside the door and I tense. But Sev doesn’t seem to care, holding my thighs down.

“Fucking delicious.” His mouth covers my clit, and I let out an involuntary shriek as a shower of sparks flies from where he sucks me.

“Shh.” He gives a rumbling chuckle and reaches up to tweak my waist in punishment. “Quiet girls get orgasms.”

“What do…?” I don’t manage to ask the question because his tongue finds my clit and it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt. He eats me greedily and my whole focus narrows to this amazing man and what he’s doing between my legs.

That and the answer he didn’t give to my non-question, but my mind supplies from what he said earlier—bad girl who is too noisy might get her mouth stuffed with his cock.

I can’t deny the thought makes me even hotter as Sev works my pussy as though he owns it. He sneaks in his fingers too, first just touching my entrance, then pushing in, insistent.

“Yield for me,” he murmurs when I tense, and I do. His fingers—more than one, I think—sink deeply into me and the sensation of having that bulk inside me is magical. Unreal. It’s like having him to struggle against, or perhaps with, makes every stroke of his tongue even better.

It’s all I can do to sit upright. I’m slumped, panting. On a stack of cardboard boxes, in a supply cupboard, Sev undoes me, making my body his own. Lighting me on fire.

A door slams somewhere, but my brain can’t comprehend what that means or why I should notice. I’m lost, overwhelmed.

“That’s it, good girl,” he says between licks. “Come for me.”

His fingers go demanding. A curl, a beckon. His mouth claps onto my clit and my orgasm is dragged out of me.