I keep our foreheads pressed together, my arm banded around her body as I work her harder and harder. She spreads her legs as far as she physically can, her breath growing more ragged, her whimpers more desperate. I inhale them as if they belong to me, which they do. She’s consuming me like this. I want to consume her, to swallow her whole. I can’t get enough of her. If we leave this bed today, it’ll be a miracle.

She begins to babble. ‘Bren, I can’t—I’m—oh god. Oh my god.’

‘You can.’ I hold her even more tightly. Our foreheads are both slick with sweat. ‘Take it. Just fucking take it, you little beauty. Show me what you’ve got. Give me what you’ve never given any other guy. Show me that you only come for me.’

My words sent her hurtling over the edge. She comes around my fingers with a violent shudder that seems to go on forever, her beautiful body wracked with spasms as she rides out her perfect orgasm. I swallow her cries with my kisses, fucking her slowly, thoroughly with my tongue as I marvel at this front row seat I have to unravelling the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

As her shudders subside, so do my kisses. I lift my head and enjoy the sight of her lying in my arms, breathless and boneless from pleasure. Even the throbbing of my desperate dick doesn’t distract me from this sudden thought:

Here is a woman made to be worshipped.

CHAPTER 34

Marlowe

The only way to survive Brendan Sullivan is to ration him. Ring-fence him with very careful boundaries.

And that’s precisely what I’ve been doing until now. I serve at his pleasure, both professionally and sexually, during working hours, and I leave the office religiously at six every day. When I’m at home, I focus on my amazing little daughter and I studiously avoid all thoughts of my sexy boss.

As a coping strategy for an extremely irregular professional dynamic, it works well.

None of my careful boundaries accommodate lying naked in his arms, in his bed, half-dead from orgasms while staring into his gaping, blue-ringed pupils as he gazes back at me with an expression of which a playboy like him shouldn’t even be capable.

Nope.

I don’t know if it’s being in his home or the musical bonding we enjoyed, but this doesn’t feel like a boss-slash-EA-with-benefits scenario. These last few minutes felt like something far more akin to a relationship, which is really not good.