“Pink,” he murmurs.

And I don’t know what he means until I remember dressing after my shower.

Grabbing the worn pair of pink panties that have been washed a hundred times. There’s probably something humiliating like a hole somewhere. I never thought anyone would see them. I never thought he would see them.

“Pull them down,” he says.

I close my eyes. Can I do this? “Three things,” I murmur, more to myself.

The air in the hallway should be freezing, but I don’t feel the cold. There’s only heat in his gaze across my skin. I push the waistband of my panties down to my thighs.

“Good girl,” he murmurs.

The words wash over me in a rush of pleasure and embarrassment. I know it’s wrong to be doing this with my boss, with a man so much older than me, with a man who has power over me—but it feels sharper because of those things. Sweeter because of them, too.

He leans close, enough that I can feel the warmth of the words against my temple. “Spread your legs. And hold your nightgown higher.”

It’s hard to spread them with my panties around my thighs. I can only open them about a foot apart. The confinement of the elastic makes it hotter.

As if I’m tied up for him in a net of my own making.

Even my hands are restricted. I’m holding up the fabric, which means I can’t do anything else. I can’t pull him closer. I can’t push him away. As long as I follow his commands, I’m trapped against this wall, open for whatever he wants.

He traces designs over my rib cage, and I shrink away from the ticklish sensation. He draws a heart on my stomach, and I suck in a breath. There’s letters written into my skin along the side of my hip, but I can’t make out the words.

I’m on fire. He’s teasing me, the same way he teased my breasts. Avoiding the place where I need him most. Pride has no space in this hallway. I push my hips forward, trying to tempt him. Needing him more than my dignity.

Finally he pushes two fingers between my legs.

He’s nimble and light when he wants to be. Precise when it comes to pain. But he’s a blunt force in my pussy, two fingers rubbing hard and fast, making me pull up on my toes.

I realize that he wants me this way. Off-balance.

When I move my hips in a rhythm against his hand, he pulls back.

The wall is trembling at my back. No, I’m the one trembling. “Please, please, please.”

“You beg so pretty. Men would die to have you, you know that?”

That makes me laugh, an unsteady, breathy sound. “I’m no one.”