I dragged my hand and tongue all the way to the tip and then I lifted my mouth. “Am I . . . am I doing it right?”

His midnight eyes were blazing. “You couldn’t do it wrong, Jillian. There is no way you could do this in a way I wouldn’t love it.” My lips curved into a smile, and he throbbed in my hand. “Christ. You holding my dick, sitting there and smiling up at me without worrying about it, is going to kill me.”

Heart thumping, I let instinct take over. His hips jerked again as my mouth closed over him once more. Heat swamped me, and I ached as if he was doing this to me, and the arousal heightened when I felt his hand close around the back of my head, his fingers curling through my hair.

His grip tightened and a prick of heat coursed over my scalp, dragging a moan out of me that reverberated through him. His hand stilled. “You liked that?”

“Mmm,” I murmured, realizing that I did like that little bite of pain.

“I’m going . . . to have to remember that,” he said.

The illicit promise spurred me on, and his hips powered up. Brock shook as he gripped the nape of my neck, trying to pull me off or hold me there, I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t going anywhere. His entire body tensed around me and I heard the harsh punch of air coming out of him seconds before he pulsed into my mouth. When he finished, my jaw ached a little, but it was worth it. I kissed the blunt tip and then carefully let him go. Grabbing his pants and briefs, I inched them back up until he was covered.

Then I lifted my gaze to him.

His eyes were half-closed and his striking features completely lax. A long moment passed and I realized it was the first time I’d seen him like this in a long, long time, and he looked so beautiful, so at rest.

Then those eyes opened, and Brock moved wicked fast. One minute he was standing and the next, he towered over me, a hand at the back of my head and his mouth on me.

Brock kissed me deeply, branding my lips and scorching my senses, and then pulled me to his chest, folding his strong arms around me. “Now that is how I want to end every work day.”

“Every?”

“Every.”

* * *

Three hours and twenty-two minutes after I’d left Brock’s office, it sort of sunk in that I’d given Brock, who was really my boss, a blow job, on my knees, in his office . . .

Of what was technically my father’s business.

Holy shit.

I’d gone—God, how long? With the exception of that Friday night, three years with only mechanical action, and I literally went from zero to porn star status in like forty-eight hours. That was crazy.

And kind of impressive.