He rose from between her thighs in one fluid motion, towering over her where she sat trembling on the marble counter. Patt's chest heaved, nipples stiff peaks tenting the thin white blouse, thighs still spread wide and glistening with the slick that had run down from her ruined panties.
Her eyes were wide, pupils blown black, lips parted on shallow, desperate breaths.
Without a word he reached for her blazer.
His fingers hooked into the lapels — strong, unyielding — and he ripped.
The fabric tore with a sharp, violent rrrrrip that echoed through the quiet suite. Buttons pinged off in every direction, skittering across the marble and bouncing onto the floor like tiny gunshots. Patt gasped sharply, whole body jerking at the sudden force.
The tailored blazer — expensive, professional, her armor in boardrooms — hung in shredded tatters from her shoulders, the lining split, exposing the crisp white shirt beneath.
