Page 79 of Privileged (Adrenalin)
“You think I want you that bad?” My breathing is still erratic, but I’m not giving my body control. Not yet.
“Tell you what.” He glances down to where my kilt-like skirt does little to hide the obvious tent of my traitorous cock. “If you aren’t leaking right now, I’ll walk out that door and forget I ever saw you.” He runs his nose along my neck, and I fight the urge to lift my hips in response, torn between wanting to be offended and aroused. “That’s what I thought,” he growls.
“I didn’t say I was leaking.” My raspy protest is little more than a whisper.
“Give them to me then,” he whispers back, leaning his forehead against mine.
“What?” I breathe.
“Your briefs. Give them to me.”
“What if I’m not wearing any?” The words are out before I have time to think about their implication, but after they’re spoken, I see the heat flare in his eyes, and it makes me feel bold. Powerful. It’s a rush of adrenaline I’ve never experienced before, and I like it. What is he doing to me?
“Then the only way to prove you aren’t leaking is to let me feel you.” He puts his hand on my hip, his fingers inching my skirt up. A soft groan escapes before I can stop it, the need to feel his hands on me outweighing every thought in my mind. Fortunately, the clatter of a dropped plate snaps me back to the present.
“You can’t touch me here.” I put my hand over his to stop him, my rational mind taking back the control I almost gave to him.
“Then I guess you better come over after work.” His fingers clutch my hip under the skirt, “because we both know you want me to touch you.”
“I don’t… I’m not.”
“Briefs,” he growls.
“What?” I gasp.
“Briefs.” He tugs on the scrap of fabric he’s discovered underneath my skirt. “Give them to me now, and I’ll give them back when you come over tonight.”
We haven’t established that I’m going over, or that I want him as much as he wants me, yet we both seem to know that I do. That my surrender is inevitable. I’m both ashamed and aroused by that, helpless to do anything less than what he asks.
As discretely as possible, I wiggle out of my briefs and hand them to him.
He brings them to his face and inhales deeply, right where there’s a tiny wet circle. It’s lewd, and wicked, and it very much makes me want to follow him right now.
“Wear this skirt and the combat boots with this sexy top when you come over,” he growls. “You look fucking stunning in it.” He shoves my briefs in his pocket and jogs toward the front door, and as I watch his retreating figure it occurs to me that instead of burning with shame as I should be, I’m burning with desire.
