Of course she does as she’s told

Felicity's breath hitched as she reached up to unbutton her blouse, her hands trembling. She slid it off her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. She stood before him in just her bra and skirt, her breasts rising and falling with each rapid breath. He stepped back, his eyes raking over her body, his expression a mix of hunger and power.

Mr. Thompson spun her around to face away from him, her palms landing on the cool, smooth surface of his desk. She could feel his heat at her back, his breath ghosting over her neck. He took a handful of her hair, pulling her head back, arching her spine, and forcing her to look at him in the reflection in the mirror behind his desk.

"Now, let's see if you can perform as well for your boss as you did for your husband," he said with a smirk.

Mr. Thompson stepped closer, his hands moving to the front of her skirt. He took his time, his fingers tracing the outline of her pussy through the fabric. Felicity's breath hitched as she felt the heat of his touch, her body responding despite her fear.

He pulled her back against him, her ass pressing into his crotch, and she could feel his erection through his pants. His hands slid up her torso, cupping her breasts through the lace of her bra. He pinched her nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger until she moaned.

"Take it off," he ordered, his voice a low growl. "I want to see my little slut in her lingerie."