... what he wants – you lift your knees so they rest either side of his hips, and he lowers you gently but firmly onto his lap, pulling you tight against him.
“Take off my shirt.” His voice is commanding, and you force yourself to carefully unbutton the expensive shirt, though you want nothing more than to tear it off his toned body. You slide it down from his broad shoulders till it pools on the desk, shimmering slightly in the dark like a basilisk’s scales. He removes his hands from your hips only for as long as it takes to slip his wrists out completely, then smirks. The next second, your skirt and shirt appear folded next to his on the broken chair next to you.
“Please...” you whisper, daring to let your fingers trace the silver serpent which forms the clasp of his belt. His lips curve up into that small smile, the one he saves just for you, and you slide the clasp open, softly undoing the buttons underneath. You kneel up and push his trousers down past his hips where they fall to the floor, though with ease he sends them to join the rest of your clothes on the chair. His hands wrap round your wrists and hold them still. You glance up at him and wait, trying to hide the...