Page 123 of Knocked Up By the Silver Foxes

He chuckles darkly. “Open your mouth.”

Blindly, I turn my head, lips parting.

“Suck my fingers,” he orders.

I do as he says, taking his fingers into my mouth, sucking them, getting them wet. He watches me, eyes hooded, breathing ragged. Then he removes them, dials me around with one firm tug.

“No,” I whimper, instinctively pulling back, but he holds me down, his grip unbreakable.

“Arch for me, Princess,” he commands, low and firm.

I do. My back curves, ass higher, and he drags one finger through my slick, then presses it to my back entrance. I gasp, eyes flying open.

“Still innocent here,” he purrs. “But not for long.”

His finger pushes gently, then more firmly—I cry out, shaking. He adds a second, working me open slow, crooking them just right while the other continues rubbing my clit.

“Please,” I beg. “I can’t—I’m so close⁠—”

“Don’t come yet,” he snaps, finger curling deep inside my ass, pressing on sensitive places I didn’t know existed. “Not until I say.”

Tears spill again. My body quakes, clinging to the edge, dying to fall. “Sir—please let me—can’t hold⁠—”

He reaches around, circles my clit harder, once, twice. Then he growls, low in his throat, “Now, Harper. Come for me.”

And I do. Hard. Scream tearing from my throat, my back bowing off the desk, nails scraping the polished wood as wave after wave crashes through me. I squirt—wet and messy and shameless—and he’s growling now, thrusting into me harder, relentless.

Then his hand finds my wrist, rips the stylus from my fingers.

“Look at me,” he demands.

I turn, dazed, trembling.

He’s dragging me backward, feet unsteady, until I land across his lap, breathless, hair in my face. He cups my cheeks, presses his forehead to mine. “Good girl,” he whispers, voice raw. “My good girl. So perfect. So wet for me.”

I hum, nodding, too far gone to speak.

He kisses me softly, lips lingering, then brushes his mouth to my nose, making me laugh weakly.

The office door clicks unlocked.

Asher walks in first, shoulders relaxed until he sees me—pregnant, half-undone, in Killian’s lap. He stops, lips quirking. “Damn.”

Maddox follows, eyes sharp, melting into a grin. He crosses to us, slow, then presses a kiss to my lips.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice is warm. “You look like you’ve been well taken care of.”

I smile, breath still shaky. “I was. He’s… thorough.”

Killian smirks, hand possessively on my thigh beneath what’s left of my skirt. “The four of us need to talk about some things.”

Asher shakes his head, stepping closer. “Yeah, I can see this discussion is going to be an intense few hours.” But he’s smiling. He leans in and carries me away from his best friends in his arms, “Was the rest of your work day as commanding as our Killian, mon coeur?”

“He felt he needed to punctuate his point,” I smirk.

“And did he?”

“Yep,” I grin, “your best friend is a controlling asshole, and I love him.”