Christine's first thought was that Adrian must be mocking her.
She sat frozen, looking up at his expressionless face. There wasn't a hint of teasing.
He was serious.
She had no room to negotiate. With only five minutes given, she barely had ti to feel humiliated or embarrassed. Like a puppet on strings, she stood shakily from her chair, following his gaze as she slowly knelt down.
Her eyes now level with his waist, she couldn't bring herself to look up. Even just standing there casually, his presence overwheld her. His tailored suit couldn't hide his athletic build.
She reached for his zipper.
This was unfamiliar.
With Ethan, their sex had always been gentle, traditional. Kisses, embraces, tender touches until she lted for him. He'd always face her, kissing her shoulders and neck as they made love. Ethan insisted on taking his ti, caring for her comfort above all. The few tis she'd offered to please him this way, he'd refused, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable.
Now here she was, on her knees in his brother's office, begging.
Her fingers had barely touched the fabric when Adrian knocked her hand away. His fingers were ice-cold, matching his voice: "Touch yourself."
"W-what?"
Christine thought she'd misheard.
Touch... herself?
How?
She'd thought he stood up for... sothing oral.
Clearly not.
She looked up at him, stunned.
His pale skin seed to glow under the lights, making his dark gray eyes look like black holes. Looking down at her, his sharp jawline appeared even more striking. The handso man's expression remained neutral, but his deep voice carried a hint of mockery: "Don't know how to seduce a man?"
This ti, she understood perfectly.
One minute had passed. No ti to overthink. She straightened up, closed her eyes, took a soft breath, then bent to remove her dress. Her thighs swayed awkwardly in the air. Next ca off her beige blouse and white bra.
As she fumbled with the bra clasp behind her, her arms folded back, forcing her chest forward. Released from the fabric, her full curves bounced free, round and firm. Her soft flesh trembled with each movent, long black hair falling forward across her chest, hints of pink visible through the dark strands.
Now she stood before Adrian wearing only underwear and peep-toe heels, her face burning red.
Christine had a beautiful figure, maintained by regular Pilates. Not too thin, she radiated a healthy, feminine beauty. Her curves were like small water balloons, leading down to a narrow waist and equally appealing butt curves. Her legs were perfectly straight and long, even her toenails were naturally beautiful, maintaining their pink shade without polish, making her feet particularly attractive.
One last step remained.
Head down, hands at her underwear's edge, she couldn't et his gaze.
Monts later, she forced herself to remove the last piece.
She kept herself neatly grood, her pink folds plump and tender like a ripe peach, a deep rosy slit visible between her shyly pressed thighs.
The office fell silent.
How many minutes left? Adrian was hard to please, and Christine knew ti was running out.
She closed her eyes, trying to imagine making love with Ethan, pretending it was him she needed to seduce.
She slowly moved her hands to her chest, while her other hand went lower to touch herself. She backed onto Adrian's desk, feet on the surface, forcing herself to spread open, throwing away all sha, exposing herself completely to the man before her.
Her fingertips probed gently at first, finding slight moisture before beginning to stroke and caress along her folds.
Her movents were completely chanical, her body feeling nothing.
For the first few seconds, hundreds of voices filled her mind - Ethan crying, her parents screaming, asking why she would do this, strangers calling her shaless bitch - until finally, all voices faded to white noise, leaving only her chanical movents.
Until Adrian spoke: "One minute left."
Panic seized her, afraid of wasting this only chance. In desperation, she looked at Adrian checking his watch. Sothing sparked in her mind. She lifted her upper body and boldly grabbed his hand, pressing it against her warmth.
Adrian's palm t heated moisture, slick moisture clinging to his skin. Christine guided his hand against herself, lifting her head to et his deep dark eyes directly.
That's when the sensation hit.
His hand was lean, knuckles pressing against her sensitive flesh. She moved her hips, gripping his wrist, rocking back and forth against him. Behind was his warm hand, in front his cold watch - the contrast of temperatures hit just right. More wetness soon coated his palm.
Monts later, soft sounds erged from where their flesh t.
But Adrian remained unmoved. As Christine's grip weakened slightly, he started pulling his hand away.
His expression stayed cold, eyes devoid of desire, as if watching a pitiful circus act.
Christine desperately held onto him, her voice breathless: "Adrian, please… brother?"
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