The sound was small... a wet, rhythmic squelch... but in the cavernous silence of the dining room, it might as well have been a scream.

Alex didn't stop. He didn't rush. He kept his finger buried deep inside Vivienne, curling it with a relentless, ruinous precision that scraped against her most sensitive nerves. He felt the slick heat of her pussy gripping him, the soft, yielding flesh clenching around his finger as if begging for more.

Vivienne's head fell back, her lips parting in a silent gasp. She was unraveling. The shame of the draft, the exposure, the humiliation... it all incinerated in the heat of his touch. She was thrilled. She was over-stimulated. She was vibrating with a need so sharp it bordered on pain.

'Yes.'

The thought screamed through her mind, drowning out the last shreds of her dignity.

'More. Ruin me. Right here.'

Her eyes rolled back, fluttering as a wave of pleasure crashed over her, threatening to buckle her knees completely. She bit her lip until it bled, fighting the scream that was clawing its way up her throat.

And then, she turned her head.

Through the haze of lust, her eyes, glazed and dilated, found Helena.

Helena was sitting just three feet away, paralyzed, her fork hovering halfway to her mouth. Her eyes were wide, fixed on the scene with a mixture of disbelief and horror.

She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

Her boss... the icy, untouchable Vivienne Vanderbilt... was standing at her own dinner table, skirt hiked up, getting finger-fucked by a guest she had met less than an hour ago.

And the worst part? Vivienne was undeniably, scandalously enjoying it. The wet, sucking sounds echoed in Helena's ears, each squelch a hammer blow to her carefully maintained decorum.

Vivienne caught Helena's gaze.

And she smirked.

It was a broken, breathless expression, twisted by pleasure, but the mockery was unmistakable.

See? the look said. You might be sitting in the chair, Helena... but I'm the one he wants. I'm the one he's touching. I planned this. I won.

Helena's grip on her fork tightened until her knuckles turned white.

Panic flared in her chest... what was she supposed to do? Scream? Look away? Act like she didn't see the fluids glistening on Alex's hand?

But as she watched that smirk... the panic curdled into something hotter. Something darker.

Anger.

Not at Alex. Not even at the act itself.

But at Vivienne.

'You bitch' Helena thought, a flush of furious indignation rising up her neck. 'You set this up. You came over here on purpose. You wanted to rub my nose in it.'

Vivienne wasn't being humiliated; she was showing off. She was using her own degradation to assert dominance over Helena, to prove that even as a servant, she was the main attraction.

'You think you've won?' Helena's eyes narrowed. The shock evaporated, replaced by a sudden, vicious clarity.

'You think you can come into my dining room, disrupt my dinner, and make me watch you get off just to prove a point?'

'Fine.'

'If you're so sure you want to be the entertainment... let's treat you like entertainment.'

***

Alex observed the electric tension crackling between them... the silent war of egos masking itself as a dinner party. He saw Vivienne's arrogant smirk and Helena's rising fury, and a dark sense of satisfaction settled in his chest.

​He realized he could fully exploit this undercurrent.

​He cast his gaze down at Vivienne. She was unraveling, her body shuddering against his hand, teetering right on the precipice of release. She was begging for it, desperate for the final push that would shatter her completely.

​'Not yet,' he decided.

​Suddenly, the motion stopped.

Alex withdrew his hand.

The sound of the suction was loud... obscene... punctuating the end of the act.

Vivienne gasped, her body jolting at the sudden emptiness, her knees trembling as she fought to stay upright.

Alex didn't wipe his hand. He didn't hide it.

He held it up under the chandelier light, letting the thick, clear fluids catch the glow. Then, maintaining eye contact with the stunned Helena, he brought his fingers to his lips.

He licked them.

Slowly. Deliberately. With a dark, predatory appreciation that sent a shiver straight through Helena's center.

"Delicious," he murmured.

He lowered his hand, turning his charm fully onto Helena, as if he hadn't just violated her assistant three feet away.

"Mrs. Vanderbilt," he said, his voice smooth, rich with admiration. "I must say... I am becoming a huge fan of your hospitality."

Helena blinked.

The implication hit her instantly.

'He thinks I arranged this.'

He thought "Helena the Assistant" was a gift. A party favor provided by the hostess to ensure his comfort. He wasn't praising Vivienne's skill; he was praising Helena's generosity.

A thrill, electric and terrifying, shot through her.

If she denied it... if she acted shocked... the game would end. The power would shift back to Vivienne.

But if she accepted it...

If she owned it...

She would be the Queen. And Vivienne would just be the object she owned.

Helena straightened her spine. She picked up her wine glass, her movements regaining their fluid elegance. She looked at Alex... really looked at him... and saw the challenge burning in those dark eyes.

She smiled.

It wasn't the polite smile of a hostess. It was the sharp, dangerous smile of a woman who had just realized she held the leash.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, Mr. Hale," she purred, her voice dropping an octave.

She glanced at Vivienne... who was standing flushed and panting, trying to compose herself... and then looked back at Alex with dismissive amusement.

"But I hope you haven't filled up on snacks."

She took a slow sip of her wine, her eyes locking with his over the rim.

"That was just an appetizer."

Vivienne's head snapped up, the insult landing like a physical slap. Appetizer?

But Alex didn't look at Vivienne. He smiled at Helena, a slow, widening grin that made Helena's breath hitch.

​"Is that so?" he asked softly.

​"Mmm," Helena hummed, setting her glass down with a confident clink. "We have much better courses prepared for the main event."

​Alex leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. The movement was slow, deliberate, drawing her attention to his mouth... the mouth that had just tasted her cousin.

​"In that case," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, rough timbre that vibrated in her chest. "I am very eager to taste the main course."

​He held her gaze, and the subtext slammed into her.

​He wasn't talking about the food.

​His eyes swept over her... from the diamond studs at her ears, down the arch of her neck, lingering on the pulse fluttering at her throat, before returning to her eyes with a hunger that was undisguised.

​He was talking about her.

​Helena felt a flush of heat rise in her cheeks, not from embarrassment, but from a sudden, dizzying rush of anticipation.

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