The knock faded away, leaving only the sound of Lilly's shallow breathing and the weight of Mark's hand still pressed against her skin. Let alone move, she couldn't even think. Every nerve in her body was screaming at the closeness.
Slowly, Mark's fingers trailed lower, brushing the inside of her thigh. Her breath hitched, a quiet gasp escaping before she could bite it back. He didn't push further. Just traced circles that made her knees weak.
Then, without warning, his hand slipped higher, firm and sure. She stiffened when he reached the damp warmth between her legs. His touch was fleeting, almost teasing, but enough to leave her trembling with shame and desire.
And then he withdrew, not to release her but to tug gently at the lace beneath her skirt. Before she could stop him, her underwear was sliding down, delicate fabric pooling for only a moment before he caught it in his hand.
Lilly's eyes widened as he lifted the lace, bringing it to his face. The slow inhale was intimate and shameless. Heat surged to her cheeks, her body betraying her with a pulse of desire she couldn't suppress.
With chilling composure, he folded the lace and slipped it into the pocket of his suit. Then, finally meeting her gaze, he said in that commanding, even tone, "That will be all, Miss Levine. You're dismissed."
Stunned, Lilly could barely form words. Her body was wound tight, aching, but he had already turned back to his papers, as though she was no more than another file on his desk.
She left the office on unsteady legs, her chest rising and falling too quickly. By the time she reached her desk, her hands shook so badly she could hardly type. She kept replaying the moment. The brush of his fingers, the look in his eyes, the way he pocketed her lace as if it belonged to him.
She couldn't take it anymore. The restroom became her escape. Locking herself in a stall, she pressed her back against the door, lifted her skirt, and touched herself with desperate urgency. Her mind was filled with him. The heat of his hand, the way he had smelled her until release broke through her in a flood that left her shuddering and biting her lip to stay quiet.
By the time she stepped out of the stall, she hardly recognized the woman in the mirror. Flushed cheeks, swollen lips, eyes clouded with the remnants of release. She pressed her palms to the sink, splashed cold water onto her skin, forcing herself to breathe, to collect the pieces of composure she'd just shattered.
She returned to her desk, and her mask of composure was back in place, but inside, she was still burning, her body restless with the knowledge that she belonged to his game now.