Forbidden Collection
She loomed over us, arms crossed, her floral perfume cloying.
Sophia pulled her foot back innocently. “Sorry, ma’am. Won’t happen again.”
As soon as Hargrove left, Sophia’s eyes darkened with mischief. “Where were we?”
Her leg returned, more insistent. I shifted, parting my thighs just a fraction, heart pounding. The brush became a press—her foot rubbing slow circles against my core through the thin fabric. I gripped the table edge, forcing myself to look at the page. Wetness pooled between my legs; I could feel it soaking through.