Undressed By His Arrogance

Her lips parted under his. His tongue swept into her mouth, greedy, possessive, and she moaned into him.

Ivy let out the moan she had been holding back. She couldn’t cage it anymore, not with his mouth devouring hers, not with his hands hovering so dangerously close to the place she ached most. She grabbed his wrist, fingers trembling, and guided his hand back between her thighs. It was reckless, desperate. Touch me. End this torment.

Winn’s smile curved against her lips. He broke the kiss deliberately, leaving her lips swollen and needy. Ivy whined at the loss, the sound girlish, frustrated.

"Do you let every man who asks for a private dance treat you like this?" Winn’s smirk was maddening. His fingers still lingered at the seam of her thighs, reminding her of the dangerous line they had already crossed. Ivy’s chest heaved, her breath coming shallow.

Her instinct screamed at her to deny, to snap back.

Instead, she bit down on her bottom lip hard enough to sting, as if the pressure could stop the words from tumbling out.

"I know it’s you, Morales," he said finally. Her whole body jolted at the name, shock detonating in her chest. Panic made her muscles coil tight, and she tried to spring out of his lap. His hand clamped around her waist, dragging her back down. She could wriggle all she wanted—she wasn’t escaping him.

The realization stole her breath, left her trembling.

Her hand flew up instead, reaching for her mask. If there was no more hiding, then so be it. She ripped it off in one swift motion. Their eyes locked. The mask slipped from her fingers, falling somewhere forgotten on the carpeted floor of the booth.

"How long have you known?" Ivy’s pride was bleeding out, her secret gone.

"Since the week you started working for me." Winn’s smile was slow, dangerous.

Her heart raced. "Is that why you kept asking for a private dance?" she snapped.

"Not really," Winn drawled, his thumb stroking lazy circles on her hip, infuriatingly calm. "It just was quite... intriguing that a woman who gave me hell on her first day of work for seeing her tits was suddenly comfortable dancing half-naked in the presence of dozens of men." His smirk deepened, eyes glittering with mischief.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear, whispering the last word with deliberate cruelty: "Dozens."

"It’s not like I have much of a choice," Ivy muttered. Winn’s arms were steel bands around her, unyielding.

"I remember telling you the first time we met," he began. "That you had a great body. Definitely bangable." His smirk was shameless. "You aren’t my secretary anymore, Ivy, so I can do this." His hand slid deliberately down the length of her thigh, heat radiating through the thin fabric, his touch burning.

Then, with agonizing slowness, he slipped past the barrier of her clothes.

Her moan escaped before she could bite it back. The moment his fingers found her heat, reality shattered. She was slick, drenched, aching. A groan tore from his chest, his control hanging by a thread. "Fuck," he swore aloud. The sheer wetness of her, the proof of her need, rocked him.

But before he could sink deeper, before he could claim what both of them were aching for, he yanked his hand back. If he continued—God help him—he would lose all restraint. He would throw her over his shoulder, drive her home, and fuck her until she couldn’t walk straight.

"I have wanted to fuck you since the minute I saw you on that pole," Winn admitted finally. He was a man on the edge, and she was the fire pulling him in.

"Mr. Kane, I..." She wanted to tell him everything, wanted to peel away the mask she had built around herself. She wanted to scream that she wasn’t this loose, that she wasn’t a woman who sold herself for money.

She wanted him to know the truth—this was her first time, her only time, the very edge of everything she had never dared give away. She wanted his touch, yes, more than anything. She wanted him to explore her, to make her feel things she didn’t know existed. But she would be damned if she allowed her virginity to be bought.

He didn’t let her finish anyway, he merely pushed her bra down one breast and tugged the nipple between his fingers. Christ, he thought, how can one be so young yet so perfect, so sexy?

The things he would do to her with his mouth hadn’t even been invented yet; he imagined leaving trails of heat down her body, sucking bruises into her soft skin, and teaching her things she didn’t even know were possible. The thought made his cock twitch against his trousers, straining against the zipper.

He wanted to stop, to stop teasing both of them. His hands seemed to have a mind of their own, wandering, exploring, memorizing every inch of her curves as if mapping out a new territory. His fingers pinched, rolled, teased her nipple, fascinated by the way it hardened under his touch, responding to him.

He caught himself grinding his teeth to hold back a groan, because if he let it out, he might scare her with just how badly he wanted her.

Ivy was becoming putty fast, her body betraying her even while her mind screamed that this was dangerous. She had never allowed herself to get this close to anyone before, let alone her boss.

She could feel her resolve slipping with every flick of his fingers, fast approaching the line where the word ’stop’ would vanish from her vocabulary. She opened her mouth to beg, to ask him to please stop before she made the kind of mistake you couldn’t take back. Instead, what came out sounded more like she was begging him for more.

"Mr Kane...please."

She clamped her thighs together and sighed heavily, her body rocking subtly in his lap. Well, there you go, Ivy, she thought bitterly. You are going to lose your virginity in a sleazy booth inside a club with your arrogant boss. Congratulations, Morales, she mocked herself, you’re officially a slut.