Page 32 of Silver Fox's Secret Triplets
“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he said. “I know you're carrying so much, Ivy. What I'm going to do will help you relax. You'll see…"
The edge of the desk pressed into the backs of my thighs, but I stayed right where I was. I couldn’t have moved even if I wanted to. My knees felt weak, my chest too tight. The only thing keeping me grounded was the warmth of his body in front of mine.
He reached up and brushed my hair back in a slow and possessive movement. His palm lingered against my cheek, his thumb stroking once along my jaw. A touch meant to calm me, not stir me. But it did both. It stirred everything. The nerves. The ache. The parts of me I’d hidden for too long.
His gaze searched mine, reading everything I wasn’t saying. My voice came out in a whisper. “What if I can’t come back from this?”
“I don't know what that means, but I don't think you have to worry about it.” His eyes stayed locked on mine. “Just stay with me right now.”
Then he kissed me. His mouth took its time, coaxing mine open, deepening the kiss when I gave in. My hands found the front of his shirt, clinging like I needed him to anchor me—and I did. I felt lost and overwhelmed and this was the one thing that felt right—it felt safe and concrete in a world of waves and turmoil. When he pulled back, I was breathless.
He lifted me onto the desk without a word. My skirt bunched around my thighs, his hands guiding me to the edge until my knees parted for him.
“Please,” I whispered, though I couldn’t tell if I was begging him not to do this thing because it would only make the worryand fear worse, or if I was pleading with him to unravel me and set me free.
His eyes darkened. “Tell me what you need.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I just need to feel something good and not like I'm drowning.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I can make you feel so good… You'll feel so good you forget all that stress." Then he sank to his knees.
My heart stuttered as he pressed his mouth to the inside of my thigh, just outside the lace of my panties. One kiss. Then another. My hands slid into his hair, not guiding him—just needing to touch him. Just needing something to hold on to.
When his tongue finally touched me, I broke. My legs parted involuntarily and his fingers pulled my panties to the side. My hips jerked. A moan escaped before I could swallow it. He kept going, one arm wrapping around my waist to hold me still as he worked me open with slow, devastating focus. No teasing. No games. Just a man who knew exactly what he was doing—and he did it with intent.
“Oh my God,” I gasped.
His grip tightened on me and I rocked my hips upward to meet his hungry lips. My thighs trembled. The pressure built fast, fierce, impossible to control. His fingers dipped into me, finding the sweet spot and curling into it over and over, and my breathing grew ragged and loud. I worried someone would walk in but I didn't want him to stop.
I fell apart with a cry, my back arching, every part of me shaking as the orgasm tore through me. My body clenched around his invading digits and he growled into my core as he continued licking and sucking.
But he didn’t stop. He kept going—relentless, precise, merciless in the way only a man who truly wanted to take care of me could be. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate circles, coaxing every last tremor from my body. I was soaked, aching,half-lost in the blur of it. I tried to pull away—reflex, instinct—but his hands clamped around my hips and pulled me back to his mouth. I came again, harder this time, my fingers fisting in his hair, my voice too broken to form words.
"Too much," I whimpered, but it wasn’t a protest. It was a plea for more.
"I know," he murmured against me. "You can take it. Just one more…. Relax, baby."
His fingers joined his mouth again, curling deep, unrelenting, and this time he didn't hold back. I cried out, louder than before, my hips bucking up against his face. He growled, the vibration of it sending another ripple of pleasure up my spine.
"Christ, Duncan," I gasped, my hands fisting in his hair. "I can't—I'm gonna?—"
He sucked harder, his fingers stroking deep and I broke. My whole body seized, then splintered. Heat exploded through me, spreading from my core to every inch of my skin. I sobbed his name, legs trembling so hard I thought I might fall apart.
He licked me through the aftershocks, mouth greedy and worshipful, until I was whimpering and twitching with oversensitivity. When he finally pulled back, his breath came hard and fast, and he looked up at me like he'd just survived a war.
"You okay?" he asked, voice rough.
I blinked down at him, dazed. "No. Yes. I don't know. What was that?"
He grinned and rose to his feet. "That was me making up for lost time."
I was still sprawled across the desk, knees parted, my panties barely covering the sopping mess between them. I should have felt embarrassed, but all I felt was relaxed.
He cupped my jaw, brushing his thumb along my cheek. "I’ve been thinking about doing that since the day you walked back into my life."
I slid from his desk sat in the chair across from it, my legs still shaking, trying to process what had happened. Duncan had given me three intense releases without asking for anything in return, his focus entirely on my pleasure, my relief, my needs.
"You should get back to your desk," he said, straightening his tie. "Finish your day."
