I shift on the carpet and mentally grit my teeth. I can do this. I have a degree and an MBA. I’m a professional overachiever. I can work out how to get a guy off, even if the dizzying amount of money he’s paying me to do it makes the stakes terrifyingly high. I make quick work of his belt buckle, conscious that the only sounds in here are those of leather against metal and his ragged breaths. For the most part, I’m holding mine. Belt undone, I undo the little metal hook thingy and the button and slide his trousers down. His boxer briefs are black again, his monster dick making a valiant break for freedom.

I wrench down his boxers and it springs out, hard and hot and as intimidating as a fully loaded assault rifle. Jesus Christ. I glance up at him, for reassurance maybe. The expression on his handsome face gives me pause. He’s flattened his palms against the door as if seeking strength and balance, but the look on his face is feral, desperate, and I feel a weird surge of power.

He’s using me.

He’s paying me.

But look how much he wants me. Or, at the very least, wants what I have to offer.

There are dozens, if not hundreds, of women in this firm who’d be happy to suck the CEO’s dick for whatever reason, but only one of them has her mouth inches from its engorged, angry crown.

I wrap my hand around his shaft—so satin-smooth, so hard—and I run my tongue over his slit.

The man practically shoots through the ceiling. He slides his hands through my hair, cupping my jaw, his fingers taut, vibrating with tension.

‘That’s very good, love. Do that again.’

This low, commanding Bedroom Voice he’s using is so ominously hot that a spot of moisture hits my thong.

So I do it again, and he groans.

Okay, so I was right, and Athena was right. Men are pretty basic. This isn’t rocket science. When a guy is this turned on, it’s hard to get it wrong.

He tastes—good, I think. Clean. Earthy. Male. God, it’s been so long since I did this, so long since I smelt this scent and tasted this part of a man’s body.

‘Take me in your mouth,’ he orders me. I have a feeling he’s going to talk me through this whole thing, and why shouldn’t he? He’s paying for the privilege, after all, and honestly? I kind of like it. Let’s not forget what this is.