Bella
The engine hummed low beneath us as Darrell’s car cut through the evening streets, the city lights smearing past the windows in golden streaks. I couldn’t sit still. My thighs pressed together under my skirt, the memory of his fingers still ghosting over my skin from earlier in his office—slow, deep strokes that had left me trembling against his desk, papers scattered, my gasps echoing off the bookshelves. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face above me: calm, hungry, completely in control.
“Thinking about it?” His voice broke the quiet, smooth and knowing.
I turned my head too fast. Our eyes met for a second before I looked away, biting down hard on my bottom lip to stop the heat from crawling up my neck.
“Can I ask you something?” The words tumbled out before I could overt
