Page 9 of Silver Fox's Christmas Scandal
When I laid down a perfect twenty-one to his twenty-four, Lucian's answering grin was pure sin.
"Well played," he said, standing slowly from his chair.
My mouth went dry as his hands moved to his belt. The Italian leather slipped free with a soft whisper that seemed to echo inside my skull. The rasp of his zipper followed and when his slacks hit the floor, I couldn't suppress a soft moan.
The man was magnificent, all corded muscle and bronzed skin. But it was the evidence of his arousal, straining against black boxer briefs, that made heat pool low in my belly.
"See something you approve of?" he asked, and his voice was rough with desire.
"That would definitely cause a stir at the office," I managed, my gaze fixed on the impressive bulge, and I smirked at him, biting my lip.
"Good thing we're not at the office, then."
My core was pulsing, aching so badly I knew I was soaked through my panties. Lucian walked around the table while I rose to meet him, drawn by a magnetism I couldn't resist and set free by the wine so I wasn't restrained, either.
When his hands framed my face, I melted into his touch, my skin burning where he made contact.
Lucian’s hands framed my jaw as though he owned every inch of me, his gray eyes burning down into mine.
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only feel the fire running through my veins. His thumb dragged slowly across my lower lip, teasing, testing, before he bent and captured my mouth with his.
The kiss was hungry, stealing the air from my lungs. I clutched at his open shirt and tangled the crisp fabric in my fingers as I leaned into him.
He tasted like the Bordeaux we’d been drinking, and he knew what he was doing.
“God, you’re sweet,” he murmured against my lips. His mouth moved down the column of my throat, finding the hollow at its base. “I've never seen you look at me like that.”
“I never let myself.” My voice was unsteady as his tongue flicked across my skin.
“Good thing the storm kept you here, then.” His hand slipped beneath the band of my bra, his palm warm against the swell of my breast. "Maybe we can make up for that lost time."
The words made my stomach clench and my thighs tremble. I arched against him, feeling the hard ridge straining against his boxers brush my hip. He chuckled, as if he enjoyed my reaction.
“Patience, Tessa,” he said, sliding his thumb across the lace. “You’ll do as I say tonight.”
The command sent a thrill racing through me. “Yes, Sir.” I couldn’t help but respond to him the way I did at work, and his growl of approval made my skin prickle with goosebumps.
His hand stayed under the lace, thumb circling until my breath hitched. He didn’t need to raise his voice. The cadence alone put me on edge in the best way.
“Hands behind your back.”
I threaded my fingers at my spine. The posture lifted my chest into his palm and sent a hot, focused pull low in my belly. He watched my face while he tested my compliance with a slow squeeze and a drag of his thumb over the peak.
“When I give you a directive, you answer me.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“That’s correct.” He stepped around me, the heat of him brushing past. “Turn and brace on the table.”
I turned and set my forearms on the table top, cheek to the side so I could still see him out of the corner of my eye.
The surface held a faint chill that cut through the fire in my skin. He placed one hand on my lower back, flattening me to the edge, and the other skimmed the lace at my hips.
The elastic snapped lightly against my skin. The tiny sting made me jolt and bite down a sound I didn’t mean to give.
“You like this,” he said, “me telling you exactly what to do.”
“Yes, Sir.”
