"How do you want to do this?" Liam asked.

Camille looked at him for a second.

Then she reached down and pulled the dress up and over her head in one smooth motion, folding it once and setting it on the desk beside her without looking at where she was putting it.

Then she stepped back slightly and stood in front of him.

The bra was black with thin pink stripes running horizontally across the cups, the fabric straining slightly at the center clasp from the weight of what it was containing.

Her boobs pressed against the cups and spilled slightly over the top edge, the skin smooth and warm looking, the swell of them substantial enough that the bra was clearly working harder than it wanted to.

Her waist pulled in sharply below her ribcage, a deep pronounced curve that flared back out into her hips in a way that made the distance between the two measurements look almost deliberate.

The matching panties sat low on her hips, black with the same thin pink stripes, pulled snug against her.

The stretch of skin between the waistband and the bra was smooth and curved and caught the warm low light of the office in a way that made everything look softer than it was.

Liam’s dick went hard immediately. He felt it happen and didn’t try to stop it.

Camille watched his face. She didn’t say anything about what she saw there. Just let him look.

Then she tilted her head toward his trousers. One slow deliberate movement. A signal.

Liam snapped back and reached for his belt.

He got his trousers off and set them to the side and straightened up.

Camille crossed her arms loosely under her chest, pressing her boobs upward against the bra cups. "I must warn you," she said, "I’m a freak. And from what I heard about your girlfriend, keeping up with me might be a problem."

Liam raised an eyebrow. "First of all, I don’t have a girlfriend."

Camille raised one eyebrow. "You don’t have to hide that."

"I’m not hiding anything. I genuinely don’t have a girlfriend."

"Shay told me about the girl who was with you the first time you fought him." She tilted her head slightly. "There’s no need to explain it. I’m just saying." The corner of her mouth moved. "I’m only a little worried you won’t be able to handle me."

Liam looked at her.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. His jaw had shifted slightly. Not clenched. Just set.

The particular way a jaw sets when something lands where it wasn’t supposed to.

Camille noticed it. Her expression changed slightly. She uncrossed her arms. "I didn’t mean to hit anything," she said. Her voice had straightened out. "That came out worse than I meant it."

"It’s fine," Liam said.

She looked at him. "Okay."

"Yeah."

"Most men say that," she said. Not unkindly. "It doesn’t usually mean what they think it means."

"I’m not most men," Liam said. "And standing here saying that won’t prove it." He looked at her directly. "Let’s get started."

He reached down and pulled his boxers down and stepped out of them.

Camille’s eyes dropped.

They stayed there.

’He’s huge,’ she thought. The thought arrived before she had finished looking and didn’t leave quickly. ’I’ve seen a lot of things walk through that door out there. This might actually be something else.’

The smile that came to her lips was involuntary. "Oh my," she said. Drawn out. Playful. Like she was tasting the words. "Look at that."

"Okay," Liam said. "Enough." He looked at her. "Spread your legs."

Camille blinked. The smile stayed but something behind it recalibrated quickly. "Okay I—" She stopped. "Can we just. I’m sorry for playing with your—"

"I’m not going to repeat myself," Liam said.

She held his eyes for one more second.

Then she turned and sat on the edge of the desk behind her.

"Okay, boss," she said. There was something in how she said it that wasn’t entirely ironic.

She leaned back on her hands slowly and spread her legs, the movement deliberate, the panties coming into full view as her thighs parted. The black fabric with its thin pink stripes sat pulled snug against her, showing the shape of everything beneath it in the warm low light.

Liam crossed the space between them and lowered himself to one knee on the floor in front of her. Then the other.

He was eye level with her from this position. He looked at what was directly in front of him for a moment. Then he reached up with both hands and hooked his fingers into either side of her panties and pulled them down slowly, the fabric sliding over her thighs and knees. He dropped them to the side.

He took both her legs and lifted them, settling them over his shoulders, her ankles crossing loosely against his upper back. She shifted her weight above him, adjusting, her hands finding the edge of the desk and gripping it.

He looked at her properly for a moment.

"Clean," he said. Almost to himself. "Really clean."

Camille looked down at him from where she was leaning back. Something moved through her expression at the comment, warm and briefly unguarded. "Thank you," she said, and for once it sounded completely unperformed.

Then his mouth found her.

"Oh—"

The sound came out immediately and she hadn’t planned for the volume of it because she pressed her lips together right after, pulling the rest of it back in.

But her body had already answered before her composure caught up, her hips shifting fractionally toward his face, her grip on the desk tightening.

He moved slowly.

His tongue working in long flat strokes first, steady and unhurried, covering everything before committing to anything specific. He was paying attention.

Tracking which movements made her breath change, which angles made her thighs tighten against his shoulders, which spots produced the clearest involuntary reactions.

He found them one by one and came back to each of them.

"Mm—"

Her head dropped forward slightly.

She was looking down at him, her bob falling out of its clean line, a few strands crossing her face.

Her chest was rising and falling faster than it had been a minute ago, the bra cups shifting with each breath.

He stayed on a particular spot and her whole body responded to it, her back pulling away from the support of her hands for a second before she caught herself and leaned back again.

"Ah — mm—"

The sounds were coming freely now. Small and continuous, each one a little different from the last, her composure not gone but definitely somewhere else at the moment, occupied with other things.

’He’s good,’ she thought, watching him from above. ’He’s actually genuinely good at this.’ A pause. ’Okay. He might have had a point earlier.’

He moved to a different spot and her leg twitched against his shoulder.

"Liam—" His name came out uneven, like she had started saying it with more control than she finished with.

His hands pressed gently against the insides of her thighs, keeping her exactly where he wanted her, and he kept going.

His tongue working in a slow focused rhythm, returning to the places that made her thighs tremble, staying on each one long enough to feel the full response before moving.

"Mm — oh — ah—"

Her hips were moving on their own now. Small rolling motions, continuous and beyond her management, her body working toward his mouth instead of staying still under it.

The sounds coming from her had spread further apart and gotten less contained, each one pulling from somewhere deeper than the last.

He felt her building toward something and stayed exactly where he was, keeping the same pressure and the same pace, giving her nothing to adjust to.

"Oh god — Liam — I’m—"

Then he pressed his tongue flat against her and held it there.

And activated Pulse Tease.

The current moved through his tongue immediately, low and steady and continuous, a mild pulse that transferred from the point of contact outward through her.

He felt it faintly himself, a subtle buzz, but from her side the effect was clearly a completely different magnitude.

Camille’s whole body locked.

Her back left the support of her hands and arched backward completely, her spine curving away from the desk, her legs seizing around his shoulders with a force that had nothing voluntary anywhere in it.

The sound that tore out of her had no resemblance to anything she had been making before.

It came from somewhere much deeper, raw and unguarded and loud enough that for a second neither of them was thinking about the club on the other side of the office door.

"Oh — oh god — oh—"

Her hands found the desk behind her and gripped it so hard her knuckles went pale.

Her hips drove forward against his face, fully beyond any instruction she might have tried to give them, and she came completely, the release moving through her whole body in consecutive waves, her thighs locked around his shoulders shaking with the force of it, her breathing cutting out entirely for two full seconds.

Then it came back in one long desperate pull.

"Hah—"

She stayed locked like that for a moment, her whole frame rigid, and then everything released at once and she dropped back against the desk, her legs sliding off his shoulders, her chest heaving, her bob completely undone and falling across her face in several directions.

She lay on the desk and did nothing for a while except breathe.

Then she lifted her head and looked down at him where he was still kneeling, his hands resting on the desk on either side of her.

Her face was doing something it clearly didn’t do in front of many people. Open. Off balance. Genuinely at a loss for what to put there instead.

’What the fuck,’ she thought.