Chapter 73: Finger Talk**
Ryan’s fingers stayed right there, pressed against the slick heat of her through the thin lace.
The office was almost completely dark now, just the low blue glow of the city lights bleeding in through the floor-to-ceiling windows and the faint green standby light on her monitor.
Diana sat perfectly still in her expensive leather chair, hands still clasped in her lap like she was in a board meeting, reading glasses perched on her nose, a few strands of hair loose against her cheek.
She looked every bit the composed venture capitalist who’d just spent ten hours running numbers and crushing deals.
Except for the way her thighs had tensed under his hand.
Ryan didn’t move for a long second. He let the silence stretch, let the weight of what she’d just said settle between them. Then he leaned in a little closer, voice low and steady.
"Spread your legs more for me, Diana."
She didn’t answer right away. Her breath hitched once, almost too quiet to hear.
Then, slow and deliberate, she shifted in the chair. Her knees parted wider, the wheels giving a soft whisper against the carpet. She angled her feet outward – expensive heels pointing in opposite directions, calves tight, the hem of her skirt riding higher on her thighs.
The movement was precise, controlled, like she was still trying to run the meeting even while she obeyed.
Ryan’s hand slid deeper under the fabric.
He hooked one finger under the edge of her panties and pulled them aside, just enough. The first real touch – skin on skin – made her inhale sharply through her nose.
He pressed one finger against her entrance, slow, teasing the wetness there, feeling how ready she already was. Then he pushed in.
Diana’s thighs clamped around his hand instantly, warm and smooth, the muscle flexing hard.
A soft, broken sound escaped her – half moan, half breath – like she’d been holding it back for minutes. Her head stayed forward, eyes fixed on the closed folder in her lap, but her knuckles went white where her hands gripped each other.
Ryan curled his finger inside her, slow and deep, feeling the tight, slick heat of her. He added a second finger on the next stroke, stretching her gently, thumb brushing up to find her clit and circle it once, light.
"Easy," he murmured, voice calm. "We’re still working, right?"
Diana swallowed. Her voice came out steady, but thinner than usual. "The... the second agent. He asked about the consulting timelines again on page four."
"Yeah, he did." Ryan kept his fingers moving – slow, steady thrusts in and out, curling each time to hit that spot that made her thighs tremble around his wrist. The chair creaked faintly under her. "I told him the payments were milestone-based. Exactly like the contract says."
He watched her face. The reading glasses caught the city lights, making her eyes look even darker. Her hair was still mostly pinned up, professional as ever, but one strand had fallen across her forehead.
She looked so put-together on top, so completely in control – except for the way her lips parted on every other breath and the faint flush climbing her neck.
"Tell me again what the contract language was," he said, voice even, like they were still going over the folder. His fingers pumped deeper, thumb pressing firmer circles on her clit. "The part about the deliverables."
Diana’s breath stuttered. She tried to answer anyway. "It... it states that payments are released upon verified completion of each phase. Third-party verification required for – "
Her voice cut off when he curled both fingers hard at the same time. Her thighs squeezed tighter around his hand, almost trapping him there. A low, shaky moan slipped out before she could catch it.
Ryan didn’t stop. "Keep going. I need to make sure I didn’t miss anything."
She swallowed again, harder this time. Her hands unclasped and gripped the arms of the chair instead, nails digging into the leather. "Verified... completion. The language was written to... to survive exactly this kind of scrutiny. Morales won’t be able to – "
Another slow, deep thrust of his fingers. He added a third on the next stroke, stretching her wider, feeling how wet she was getting, how her walls fluttered around him.
The wet, quiet sounds of his fingers moving inside her were the only thing breaking the silence besides their breathing. Outside, the city kept lighting up.
Diana’s head tipped forward slightly.
Her glasses slipped down her nose a fraction. She looked wrecked and perfect at the same time – expensive suit still buttoned, hair still mostly pinned, but her legs spread wide in her own desk chair while he fingered her slow and relentless.
"You’re doing good," Ryan said quietly, thumb stroking her clit in tight, steady circles now. "Stay with me. What about the disbursement schedule? Page seven. Did I handle that right?"
She tried. God, she tried.
Her voice came out breathy, words clipped. "The... the schedule shows staggered releases. Four payments. All tied to... to deliverables. You... you referenced the email chain from Patricia. That was... that was correct."
Her thighs were shaking now. The muscle in her left leg kept twitching every time he curled his fingers just right. Ryan could feel her getting closer – walls tightening, getting wetter, the slick sounds louder in the quiet office.
But she kept her eyes on the folder like it was a lifeline, like if she stared hard enough at the paperwork she could pretend this wasn’t happening.
He leaned in closer, mouth near her ear, voice low. "You’re so wet, Diana. You feel that? My fingers are soaked. All because I put my hand on your thigh."
A soft, desperate sound escaped her. She bit her bottom lip again, harder.
"Tell me if I need to adjust anything on the consulting verifications," he continued, like they were still in a normal meeting. His fingers never stopped – deep, steady, curling, thumb relentless on her clit. "It’s best if this is locked down before the next meeting."
Diana’s breath was coming faster now. Her hips had started rocking, tiny, involuntary movements against his hand, chasing the friction even while she tried to hold still.
"They’re... they’re solid. Confirmed both consultants will... will corroborate the work. The... the invoices match the – "
Her voice cracked on the last word. Her thighs clamped down hard around his wrist, almost painfully tight, and she came – silent at first, then a choked, muffled moan she tried to swallow back.
Her whole body tensed in the chair, back arching just slightly, glasses slipping farther down her nose. Ryan felt every pulse, every flutter around his fingers, felt how she soaked his hand while she tried desperately to keep her face composed.
He didn’t pull out. He kept drawing it out until the last tremor faded and she was left trembling, breathing hard through her nose.
Diana’s head stayed down. Her hands were gripping the chair arms so tight her knuckles were white. The city lights flickered across her glasses, across the loose strands of hair stuck to her damp forehead.
Ryan finally eased his fingers out, slow. He left his hand resting high on her thigh again, just under the hem of her skirt, feeling the aftershocks still running through her.
He leaned back slightly, voice calm and low.
"We still have a bit more work to get through Diana."
Diana didn’t answer right away.
She just sat there, legs still spread wide in her own expensive chair, chest rising and falling, trying to pull her professional mask back together while her body betrayed her completely.