Every protest seemed to melt into the heat between their bodies, and with each passing second, her strength waned.
It felt like all the air had been stolen from the room, or maybe from her lungs.
Jane stopped fighting. Not because she wanted to—but because fighting was futile, and part of her hated that she knew it.
Ross's hands began to explore her, sliding down her sides with rough familiarity.
His fingertips brushed over the silky fabric of her dress, then traced the curve of her waist and hips.
She shivered. Not from pleasure—but from the raw intensity of being seen.
Being touched not as a woman, but as something conquered.
The zipper of her dress whispered open, a slow, deliberate sound that made her heart skip.
Her breath hitched as Ross slowly peeled the gown down her body, layer by layer, inch by inch.
Her shoulders, her arms, her thighs—each exposed under his gaze.
The black fabric fell to the floor in silence, leaving her in her lacy black lingerie, as vulnerable as she had ever been in her adult life.
Ross paused.
He looked at her—really looked at her.
And his lips curled into something that was almost admiration, almost desire... but with a dangerous edge.
"You're even more stunning than I imagined," he murmured, voice like gravel smoothed by silk. "No wonder your precious senator couldn't resist locking you down."
Jane turned her head, jaw clenched. Shame and fury clashed inside her chest like lightning behind her ribs.
She didn't reply. She couldn't. Anything she said now would feel like defeat.
Ross leaned down, his mouth brushing her collarbone, his breath warm against her skin.
He didn't rush.
He took his time, letting his lips trace along the slope of her neck, the hollow between her breasts, the trembling softness of her stomach.
His hands ran along her bare skin like he was trying to memorize every curve, every response.
"You can still say no, Jane," he whispered, though the smirk on his face said otherwise. "But we both know you're not going to."
She hated how much truth there was in that statement.
And yet, even as she lay there, vulnerable and conflicted, something in her shifted.
Maybe it was acceptance. Maybe it was survival instinct.
Or maybe it was just the numbness that came when dignity was traded for something bigger—something like salvation.
Because this wasn't about lust. Not really.
This was about freedom. About reclaiming the life that was taken from her.
About making sure her husband didn't rot in a prison cell while vultures picked apart everything they built.
If she had to give herself to Ross to get it all back... then so be it.
Her fingers tightened around the bedsheets as Ross slowly pulled away the final pieces of lace that still clung to her body.
She was bare now—utterly exposed, stripped not just of her clothing, but of the armor she'd carried for so long.
And as Ross hovered above her, eyes dark with hunger, Jane stared up at the ceiling, blinking once... twice...
Then she closed her eyes.
And let it happen.
"Beautiful," Ross murmured as he knelt, his breath warm against Jane's inner thighs.
He gently parted her legs wider, lowering his head with excitement between her soft, trembling flesh.
Her pussy was pink, glistening, and so fresh it made his mouth water.
The sight alone made his heart thump in anticipation.
Ross leaned in, his tongue darting out to give her a slow, teasing lick from bottom to top.
Jane flinched slightly, gasping at the sudden jolt of pleasure.
He kissed her folds like they were the most sacred part of her, letting his tongue explore her slowly, tracing the delicate ridges and sensitive edges with precise care.
Every movement was purposeful, every stroke of his tongue a declaration of hunger and devotion.
"Mmm," he hummed against her, the vibration sending a new ripple of sensation through her core.
He sucked gently on her clit, then eased away to trail soft kisses around her entrance before diving back in with renewed intensity.
"Ahhhh..." Jane moaned, unable to stop the sound that escaped her lips.
Her fingers gripped the sheets as her thighs trembled on either side of his head.
Ross was relentless—but not rough. He didn't rush.
He worked her over with a slow, methodical grace, giving her just enough to push her higher but never enough to let her fall completely.
Her mind screamed in protest even as her body betrayed her.
"No... this isn't supposed to happen... I shouldn't feel this..."
But her pussy had a mind of its own.
It clenched and pulsed under his tongue, aching for more.
She could feel her walls fluttering, her body betraying every ounce of self-control she thought she had.
He was too good. Too practiced. Too deliberate. And she was completely at his mercy.
Ross groaned softly as he tasted more of her arousal, the sound of his pleasure fueling her own.
He circled her clit with his tongue, sucking and flicking in just the right rhythm, sending bolts of pleasure coursing through her like lightning.
Jane's breaths grew ragged, her hips lifting to meet his mouth with a desperation she couldn't suppress.
"I'm going to... oh god..."
Her thoughts were a jumbled mess as her climax built rapidly, much faster than she expected.
It was overwhelming, humiliating, and yet incredibly addictive.
The knot in her belly tightened fast, heat pooling deep inside her as Ross brought her closer and closer to the edge.
"Ross..." she whispered shakily, half-pleading, half-warning.
But he didn't stop.
He only looked up briefly, locking eyes with her as his tongue continued its merciless worship.
There was a gleam in his gaze—possessive, knowing. He could feel how close she was.
He could hear it in her voice, see it in her quivering thighs.
Jane arched her back, her toes curling as the wave of her orgasm began to crash through her—unexpected, unwanted, but so intense it left her breathless.
She came hard, her body shuddering around his mouth as he held her steady and continued to lick her through every twitch and aftershock.