I ever so slowly inched my hand across my lap and under my skirt, gasping as I made contact with the place that had been yearning to be touched. It was too sensitive to rub directly, so I worked my way closer and closer to that torturous spot in broad circles, the intensity leaving me breathless.

A few weeks ago, I would’ve called this child’s play, but in that moment it felt like the most taboo thing I’d ever done…because I was doing it in front of him.

I closed my eyes, refusing to check whether he was watching. And fuck, did I want him to watch. I wanted him to do more than watch. I was practically ready to beg him to touch me when he commanded in a low voice, “Open your legs.”

I obeyed instantly, parting my thighs wider, knowing he could now see exactly what I was doing with my hand. I rolled my hips, using my other hand to try to fill the aching emptiness inside me.

I was getting so close to that peak, building to the release I needed more than anything when he growled, “Stop.”

I obeyed, stunned by my own reaction, but I left my fingers where they were. I could only moan helplessly, still feeling close enough that I thought I might come even if I didn’t move. He wrapped his fingers around my left wrist and pulled it towards himself, asking, “May I?”

I nodded, watching mutely as he drew the fingers that had been inside me into his mouth, sliding them between his lips, then circling them with his warm, wet tongue, sucking gently. I groaned, lost to the sensation. I was so close to coming from something as innocent as him sucking my fingers that I couldn’t breathe. I thought I was going to cry from the agony of needing release.

“Does my temptress need to come?” he asked with my fingers still against his mouth, so I could feel the brush of his full lips.

I nodded again urgently, not trusting myself to speak without begging. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew he wasn’t stopping me, but I wanted his permission. Needed to hear his command.

He was the Alpha to my Alpha and I wanted him to take control, to feel what it would be like to surrender to him without being less than myself.

This thing between us felt inevitable.

“Do it,” he growled.

I took his hand that was still holding mine and pulled it down, panting, “Feel me come.”

I arched my hips up to his touch, crying out when he thrust a thick finger inside me.

It only took seconds for me to come apart with pleasure, moaning incoherently, clenching around his finger.

I didn’t care who was watching or that he was a client or that whatever this was with him had an expiration date. I needed more.

For a long moment, I could only sit and pant, reveling in the afterglow of such a teased-out orgasm. It had taken the edge off the immediate pressure, but it still felt like an inferno raged within me.