Page 97 of The Owner's Temptation

My cock throbs against the confines of my slacks, straining—aching.

The moment the door opens, she throws it shut behind her and marches down the hallway with intent.

She’s not even trying to cool off.

She’s going straight for relief.

Her hands go to the hem of her dress, yanking it over her head in one smooth pull. I groan, grabbing the base of my cock and squeezing hard to fight the rush that follows.

Black lace bra. Matching panties. Garter belt cinched to those damn stirrups holding up her sheer black stockings.

She kicks off her heels and unclasps her bra.

Her breasts bounce free—perky, flushed, nipples already tight.

I reach for the drawer on the right side of my desk, tugging it open without breaking my gaze. My earbuds are exactly where I left them. I pop them in, syncing them to the audio channel Ineveruse.

Until now.

Until her.

Untilthis.

The instant I hear her sigh, a guttural sound leaves me—somewhere between relief and agony. My fist strokes up the length of my cock, slow and tight.

She grabs the vibrator. The purple one I saw on her nightstand the night I dropped her off. The same one I imagined in place of my tongue.

She plops onto her bed, scoots to the center, and spreads her legs wide.

My heart slams against my ribs. I stroke harder.

The vibrator buzzes to life—and her moan?

Her moan breaks me.

Loud. Unashamed.Wrecked.

My hips jerk off the chair as my grip tightens. Pre-cum leaks from the tip, and I swipe my thumb over it as her legs tremble on screen.

Her free hand clutches the sheets, her back arches, and she moans again—louder this time.

God, I want her mouth around my cock. Her body writhing under mine. Her nails clawing into my back as she begs for the orgasm I’ve been denying her for weeks.

This pressure I’ve been building in her?

It’s building in me too.

We’re both strung tight, twisted up in this game.

But only one of us is going to win.

And it’s not going to be her.

She doesn’t even take her panties off.

Just slides the vibrator beneath them, moving in tight, quick circles over her clit. Her thighs twitch as she finds the rhythm she needs, and I can see her hips flexing, chasing that first orgasm like she’s been on the edge for hours.

Because she has.

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