‘Oh, God,’ she moans. She sounds utterly defeated, and I know why, because her inner walls are fluttering around my cock, just as her eyelashes are fluttering against her wet cheeks, and my only mission is to take her over the edge into a place where nothing else exists for her but this shower and my dick.

I fuck her harder, and my legs shake harder, and my own orgasm builds and builds.

She shatters around me, fucking shatters, her head falling forward so she can bite down on my shoulder and scream out her climax, and she’s a sight, she’s such a fucking sight to behold that I let rip, freeing myself up to follow her over the edge, to yield to that incredible heat ripping through my balls and up my dick until I’m rutting and rutting and rutting deep within her body.

And, as I come, it’s with her teeth on my skin and her screams in my ear and the extraordinary feeling of intensity, of intimacy, this watery cocoon simulates.

CHAPTER 24

Marlowe

Iwon’t see Tabby before she goes to bed tonight, because this evening I have drinks with the infamous seraphim. There’s something so depressing about knowing that when I sneak into her room later to inhale her skin and kiss her cheek, she’ll be totally oblivious. But Athena says these drinks are important, that in the unique isolation of a role like this, you need your tribe around you. You need women who know exactly what you’re going through.

And tonight is my chance to build those relationships. Aside from Athena and her friend Sophia, whose brainwave this was in the first place, I don’t know anyone.

Besides, I’ve survived my first week of being Brendan’s seraph, so I’m pretty sure I deserve a very large drink.

I’ve purposely worn one of my most gorgeous new dresses today: a sleek pale grey Miu Miu shift with an embellished neckline. Elaine commented on how beautiful it was earlier. She said it genuinely, but I could hear the unasked question in her voice—exactly how much is he paying you?—and I couldn’t really blame her. Anyway, I hope it’s worthy of the seraphim. I imagine them all to be total glamazons who actually live this crazy, opulent lifestyle rather than just pretending to live it during office hours.

Before I leave, I lock myself in a toilet cubicle so I can call Tabs and catch up on her day. It sounded largely uneventful, which in my book is a good thing. I tell her how much I love her and promise her that we can go for breakfast tomorrow at a cute little place not far from us. After all, what is a hundred grand a month of blood money if I don’t get to treat my daughter occasionally?