Page 92 of The Owner's Temptation

But I’m not.

Because Ilikethe way he touches me. The way his hands smooth down my hips, firm and sure. The way he molds me into position without resistance. I could fight it—but I don’t want to.

Iwantto know what happens next.

His foot nudges mine, gently spreading my stance even wider. The movement feels functional, calculated… but it’s also intimate in a way that steals the air from my lungs.

He’s preparing me.

For what, I don’t know.

One of his hands settles on my hip, grounding me. The other slides up the line of my spine, his palm wide, warm, and unhurried. When he reaches the space between my shoulder blades, he applies the slightest pressure—pressing me forward until my chest brushes the polished desk.

“Good girl, Sienna.” he says softly, like the words are just for him. “Just like this. Every time.”

My breath stutters. My heart is thundering so loud I’m certain he can hear it.

“You act like you want control,” he murmurs, his voice low and sharp and devastating, “but what you really want is to give it up.”

Both of his hands slide down then, leisurely, like he has all the time in the world. He palms the curve of my ass, squeezing gently, like he’s testing the tension beneath my skin.

“You want someone to take it from you,” he continues. “Toknowwhat you need… before you ever say the words.”

My eyes flutter shut. My body feels molten. Wrecked without even being touched properly.

I hear the sound of fabric shifting—and then feel the cool air kiss my thighs as he pushes my dress up.

My breath hitches, my thighs clenching involuntarily as I’m fully exposed—my lacy black panties stretched over the curve of my ass, the black garters and stirrups hugging the tops of my sheer stockings.

A low rumble sounds in his throat.

It’s not a growl. Not quite.

But it’sdangerous. Deep. Primal.

His fingers slide reverently back down the globes of my ass, slow and steady.

“You wore these for me,” he says darkly. “Don’t lie.”

I swallow hard, my cheek still pressed to the desk, my fingers curled into the wood.

“You’ve been begging for this. Every bratty look. Every smart little comment. Every time you opened that mouth, you were asking for this.”

I can’t speak.

I don’twantto.

Because he’s right.

And I don’t want him to stop.

“Now, answer me, Sienna.”

His voice is low—coiled restraint stretched thin and fraying.

I feel him press forward andmoan, deep and unguarded, as the thick line of his erection grinds against the swell of my ass. My cunt clenches involuntarily, the air punched from my lungs at the sound he makes.

That fucking sound.

---