Her fingers met with my barely-there underwear in a matter of seconds. She wasn't waiting for permission, she was taking it. Not that I'd planned to deny her, anyway.

It was too late.

How I loved when my sweet, docile Eden pried out of her shell and showed her dominant side. How I enjoyed when she—

"Oh," I let out as her fingers found their way under my panties, right into the wetness I hadn't even realized was gathering, waiting for her to arrive.

"Good oh?" Her mouth was close to mine, helpless and alluring.

I kissed her. God, her lips were like honey and I wanted more, more, more.

"That must mean good," she said, diving deeper into my folds.

"You," I said, hardly able to speak for her explorative caressing of my pussy, "are dangerous, you know that?"

"Clearly." She jutted her chin at something behind me—my phone, I presumed. "But like you said, go out in flames, right?"

It hadn't taken much to convince her. She'd been standing there like a deer in headlights, terrified of my approach, worried where it'd take us, and now she was fingering me like her life depended on it.

In truth, her life depended on it not happening at all, but who was I to stop her? Her fingers were soaked with me, and it'd be impossible to push her away and be stern with her after that.

Later, I would be stern: I'd demand that she bend over my desk.

But not yet. No, first I'd enjoy her taking control, thinking she had the upper hand. I loved watching her steer, take the wheel and command my body into doing whatever she wanted it to. I loved how she—

"Ahhh," I moaned as my legs jittered when she hit one of my favorite spots. One she'd found, I thought by accident, the first night we fucked.

"Oh, yeah, you're so into it, aren't you?" Her voice was so sweet, yet tainted with such filth it made me wetter, warmer, desperate to come.

"So are you," I managed, lifting my leg onto the nearest chair, to grant her better access. I wasn't sure what she planned on next, but I'd give her a few more minutes of pleasuring me before I took control again.

She dangled herself before me, her lips so close yet out of reach. Every time I leaned nearer, she backed off, smirking. She tickled at my clit, then flurried away, dragging her finger through my wetness in such languorous ways, I wanted to explode just watching her.

She chewed on her lower lip, evidently feeling very naughty, very proud of herself for teasing me like that. It was working; I craved her more when she kept her lips from me. When she deprived me.

"Eden," I gasped, as she once more tempted my clit before pulling away. "Please, please." I made sure I sounded so desperate, so demanding that she couldn't resist.

Not that I was faking—the way I drenched her fingers made it clear she was taking good care of me—but to see her unravel this dominant side was more of a mental arousal for me. To witness her surrender to her urges, letting her hair down; that was my favorite version of Eden.

Yes, I enjoyed the ever-smiling, sweet-natured, always-there-for-anything Eden. But I fucking loved the down and dirty, command-giving Eden.

That was what I'd seen under the surface the night we met. A curious girl who, deep down, had all kinds of fantasies and cravings that she didn't understand, and only needed the right push to explore them.

I couldn't be happier that I'd been responsible for that.

"What do you want?" Eden's eyes, sharp like emeralds, pierced mine.

"You," I said, peering down to watch her finger at work as it titillated the most sensitive parts of me.

"No," she nibbled at my lip, "tell me more. Be specific, Silver."

I almost laughed at her—wasn't it mere weeks ago that she refused to speak to me while I touched her? She'd been so timid, blushing, unable to express her dirty thoughts out loud.

Now she bossed me around?

Well, shit, it worked.

"Make me come," I said slowly, enunciating each word.

I'd meant to hold back and wait, to let her tease me more, but she was too good, granting my wish almost too fast.

I wouldn't complain; I groaned as I released all over her, my clit pulsating as she slowed her teasing and brought her finger to her lips.

To watch her twirl the finger around her tongue while maintaining sharp, steady eye-contact was deliriously sexy.

"Okay, my turn to have my way with you, princess," I said, yanking her pants down. She practically had no chance to breathe out an excuse before I had her up on the desk, legs dangling.

"Silver," she said, spreading her legs, showing me the damp spot on her cotton-white underwear.

Oh, she was ready, all right. But after the way she'd played with me, no way would I give her satisfaction that fast.

"Someone's wet," I said, dragging my finger along the underwear, reveling in how she trembled for me. The fabric was soaked with her, and it took all my might not to fall to my knees and bury my face between her folds.

"So wet," she said, more tentative than earlier. "You...you turn me on so much, Silver, but we—"

I pressed a finger to her mouth as I continued to trail over her panties. "Don't start. We began this, we're finishing it."

"But it's—"

I put my lips against hers this time, muffling her protests. "You want this, don't you?" She nodded fervently, a whimper stuck in her mouth; I heard the light sound developing beyond her lips. "Then give in to it. At this point, we have nothing to lose."

It'd likely be the last time we'd get to do this. It was so wrong, it was right. We were hungry, desperate, no matter how she tried to play hard to get, to pretend like she'd resist me.

She'd told me point-blank that she wanted it.

The moment I slid my finger past her underwear, she was mine. Anytime I touched her like that—savoring the process, getting acquainted with every inch of her—she'd shut up, lean back, and enjoy.

I liked her docile, too. I liked to watch her writhe and hold in her moans of pleasure, watch the redness spread across her face as she was overcome with need, passion. She was so beautiful, so softly restrained, yet so ready to burst at the seams.

Such a perfect, pretty flower whose petals I loved to tickle and caress.

I was so glad we'd closed the door, because as I swirled around her clit, she arched forward and released a low cry of, "more, more!" It took everything I had not to eat her out, not to drink her up; I wanted to wait, to relish in every single second of her.

To prepare for when I wouldn't have her anymore.

Once she let out another cry—one I recognized as her ultimate orgasm, eyes closed, chest heaving, a subtle tremor in all her limbs—I moved away and gestured at her to get up.

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Really? That's it?"

I furrowed mine right back. "You'd dare complain?" I raised my finger, glistening with her arousal. "I beg to differ."

"No, I mean," she wriggled about as she fixed her underwear, "I thought it'd be...I thought we'd go..."

"Longer?" I smirked at her as I shoved her aside. "That's the plan. But we need space."

I closed my laptop and set it on the chair, then with a bout of laughter, I pushed everything else off the desk. Pens clattered to the floor, papers flew all around, Post-it notes and paper clips and random knick knacks piled up at our feet.

"Oh," she said with a gulp, turning to the desk, its surface bare and ready for us.

I heaved myself up, then hefted my nightgown off. I sensed a gentle breeze over my nipples, perking them up, and didn't miss it when Eden's gaze roved right over them.

Bracing myself for her warmth, I pulled her between my legs as I parted them. I unbuttoned her shirt, tugged it down, let it fall to the floor.

She wore nothing but a see-through, lacy black bra, her pink peaks breaking through, taunting me.

I ran my thumb over those peaks; she shook as she did the same to my nipples. "Mmm," she said, leaning into me, setting her lips on my neck. "God, I still want you so bad."

I held myself back from saying I always want you. No need to encourage this, to spill out feelings—for all we knew, this would never happen again. It'd be dumb to push ourselves, hurt ourselves this way.

Better to leave some things unsaid.

"This," I dipped her bra down to have full access to her breast, "is everything, Eden. You are everything."

Fuck. Within seconds I'd blown my own rule; I'd been vulnerable, said things to her she'd carry with her to the grave. Things she'd think about later, when we were away from one another.

It was inevitable.

"Are you sure, Silver?" She nuzzled me. She was so hot, I detected the beginnings of sweat along my neck, my forehead.

"Sure?" I tipped back to look at her, my finger still twirling around her nipple. "Of what?"

"That you want to do this. Now. Here." She craned her neck to stare at the door.

I took hold of her chin and drew it to me. "I don't like unfinished things, Eden." Her lips puckered, and fuck, it was so difficult not to kiss them over and over and over, to feel the vibrations of her pleasure through her mouth. "Might as well go out with a bang."

She giggled; the most adorable, girlish sound that took my breath away. "A literal bang," she flushed, "since we're...like...about to bang."

Shit, she was...perfect. Precious. Everything I never knew I wanted or needed. Everything I'd craved in a partner; humor and humility, kindness and strength of character.

And I would never, ever, have her.

It was too risky. To give up everything and be with her...so tempting. But I'd worked too hard for this, to get where I was. I'd sacrificed so much, forgone so many of my own morals.

Eden and I would never be together, and I'd have to accept that.

But in the meantime, I'd fuck her like it was our last day on earth.

***

After who knew how many rounds of desperate bliss, Eden scampered off to take a shower. She was hot and sticky, she'd said, which made me lick my lips, which made her run off faster, lest we get going again.

I, too, needed a shower. Not only to cool myself off, but to think. For me, showers were the best place to contemplate, to rehash conversations and go over options and find answers.

This dilemma—Eden and I, exposed—I'd find no answers to in the shower, sadly. But still, I needed that moment to myself, letting the water trickle down my body and washing away some of my concerns.

Once under the tepid liquid, I disassociated. I disappeared. I let everything I'd been holding in, out—no tears, though, because I hadn't cried in years.

Negativity, pressure, confusion, sadness—the water dragged them down my skin to sink into the drain. Gone—for now.

I turned around so the water would get my back. My eyes opened, and for a second I envisioned Eden there, holding a bar of soap, offering to use it on me. She was naked, a halo of light around her gorgeous body, but I wasn't lustful as I looked at her.

I was hopeful. Wistful. Daring to wish, daring to think it was possible—

"No," I said out loud, waving my hand in front of me to erase the image.

Even if the path weren't so strewn with obstacles, it'd still be hard for me to fully give myself to Eden. I cared for her much more than I'd anticipated, true, but I struggled with feelings—with conveying my own and understanding others.

Though I did understand hers. They were clear as day. She, like me, knew whatever this was between us had gone far beyond sex.

But it shouldn't have gone that far, ever. I knew better. Last time I was so loose with my emotions, I'd been deeply wounded. Granted, those emotions were physical, carnal.

With Eden it was more than that.

With Noah, it was all about the sex. Deliciously dirty, pounding and pounding at any opportunity, ignoring the flagrant risks. We did it anywhere, at any time, uncaring about being seen.

Until we were seen, and everything changed.

I didn't last long in the shower. My thoughts turned gruesome too fast for my liking, so I finished my cleansing routine and got out. I made sure to close the bedroom door—in my household, open doors meant come in, and at that moment I wanted to be alone.

Needed to be alone.

I lowered onto my bed after affixing the towel to my steamy body.

"What the fuck am I going to do?"

I imagined an audience before me, awaiting my decision.

Yanic, of course, would be listening. Eve would be there with her press agent knowledge. Maybe Sylvia, but that was only because she followed Yanic everywhere, at his behest, as his assistant.

And Eden—she was there, too. She caught on to my every word, bouncing about with ideas and solutions, always willing to help everyone.

She couldn't help me. No one could.

Those who'd helped me in the past...this wouldn't please them. Being exposed in the press exposed them.

Those I'd used to get ahead. Those who'd financed my steep climb to my current rank.

Those who'd funded my ascent to billionaire status.

I shivered as I imagined them in the audience, too. Glaring at me with their dark eyes, pacing back and forth as they discussed options that I wouldn't want to hear them say aloud.

They were men. The not-so-suitable investors, I'd called them in my mind, upon first meeting them. People who had heaps of money to invest, and wanted to back a power-player, but without anyone knowing.

I was, in their opinion, a heavy-hitter.

As a woman breaching into an industry dominated by men, they liked my initiative. They liked my inclusivity. They embraced my ideas to share fashion with those so often excluded: the powerful women, the plus-size folk, and the non-gender conforming individuals, among other groups.

These men weren't misogynists who thought the world should remain in men's hands—but their money was dirty. Unclean, they'd told me at our first meeting, what felt like forever ago.

"If you don't question it, we won't question you," they'd said, their faces hidden in darkness. Of course, we'd met in a prison-like room where I couldn't quite see their identities, though I knew their names.

How could I forget?

These seedy men made me who I was. Their dirty dollars and connections helped me up several rungs of the ladder, bypassing formalities and tasks usually needed to reach success.

They cheated me into the fashion world, and I let them.

I had no other choice.

A bisexual woman straight out of fashion design school, broke as shit, greener than grass, and weak? They could have taken advantage of me. Could have established all sorts of high interest rates and negotiated unsavory methods of repayment.

But all they asked for was silence, and a regular interest payment that wouldn't overwhelm me.

Which meant they'd invest in me, for a small percentage of my revenue, and for silence.

"Make sure no one ever knows you're linked to us. That we helped you. That's essential," one of them said—the leader of this gang of money-laundering men.

I'd obeyed. They kept their word, and I never heard from them. My lawyers knew all the agreements and transferred the investors their dues without question. If I didn't succeed, the investors didn't succeed, and my team wouldn't get paid. That'd be a dangerous disadvantage for all of us.

This little ring of illegal activity worked. It propelled me to where I was, rich and thriving and expanding my brand, my beliefs spreading across the globe.

My current cash-flow was all earned by my brand, not the investors. And I didn't misuse funds, didn't donate to unworthy causes.

My reputation was pristine, my actions noted, acknowledged, often revered—

But only until the article came out.

"Fuck." My legs stiffened, skin chafing, begging for moisture.

I couldn't move.

When the scandal broke loose, it'd be a direct breach of my promises to the investors. They'd see me in the press, and freak out about being exposed, being tied to me.

If anyone looked further into my transgressions, they'd have to come across those men...

And those men wouldn't hesitate to come for me, to save themselves, their secrecy, their fortunes.

My great fortune would soon bite me in the ass.