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He does it again and again, and I cry out when he thrusts his fingers inside me. “I have a meeting in ten minutes, and I’m finger-fucking you. Do you realize how crazy you make me, Gemma?”
Oh. My. God.
I can’t think. I can’t breathe.
This amount of pleasure will consume me. It’ll make me explode, lose a few brain cells. But it feels so, so good for the soul, helps the blood flow through my veins, injecting the type of high I’ve been seeking my whole life.
I’m done for, absolutely done for when he brings his other hand to my neck.
“Who is he?”
“Damon . . .”
“Gemma, fucking tell me.”
I shake my head, moaning when he applies pressure against my neck. This is pleasure for me. I get high off it. Off risks and adrenaline and speed and heights. This is him bringing my body to the highest mountain, and I don’t want to come down, even if it means an imminent death.
I ride out my orgasm before his lips dominate mine. My hips thrash against his hand, my pussy rubbing against his fingers.
He checks his watch when I’m done, coating the evidence of my arousal all over my thighs.
“She’s her sister,” Damon says softly.
“Sutton? She’s your ex’s sister?”
“I never said anything about an ex.”
“What do you mean?” My heart bursts through my chest. “You’re ...still... with her?”
He sneers. “Of course not.”
“Then . . .”
His phone rings, cutting me off. “I have to take this.” He kisses me, untucks the material of my skirt from the waistband, and lets it fall before he answers the phone.
I need to go clean up before his clients arrive, and I leave his office looking like sex’s advocate. I walk out of there while contemplating his words. So Sutton is his ex’s sister. But if she’s not an ex, what is she?
I head to the restroom to clean myself and still come up empty-handed by the time I reach my desk. I reply to a text from Layla before realization hits me.
Did she pass away?
Why didn’t I think of that? How did I miss the signs?
The guilt, the time he said he promised he’d always want her.
I can’tbelieveit never dawned on me until today. Everything makes perfect sense now. He doesn’t even have to confirm it. I know it to be true.
He’s never going to let her go. If I can’t let Harvey go, then it’s laughable to think he will after losing her from this world.
I hate the direction of my thoughts. Since the beginning, it got on my nerves that he couldn’t give me an ounce of himself because he still belonged to her. It’s irony and hypocrisy in its brightest form.
Because of Harvey. Because I might have a hard time letting him go too.
I reread a part of the report, unable to concentrate. Then his clients arrive, and I lead them to his office.
Damon’s meeting runs past five, and I keep drafting my report, knowing I won’t finish tonight. The deadline is Friday, but with the amount of changes Damon likes to incorporate and the time it takes for his experts to look it over, it adds plenty of time.
I bid farewell to his clients as they leave, typing up the rest of my paragraph.
