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I’ve missed this. And your pussy has missed me. I can feel it. Nobody can fuck you like I can.
Pushing me. Slamming into me. Hitting every single one of my buttons.
God. My wrist is aching, but it’s nothing to the building pleasure. The sudden but inevitable crash of my orgasm. Riding the wave, not stopping my stroking, pushing through the pleasure to the other side. Squeezing my thighs around my hand, arching my back, and coming even longer and sweeter for the second time, one after another, like a chord echoing through an empty space.
It’s not the same. Nowhere near Declan pushing me to come again and again and again in San Francisco. I came so many times that I lost count, each one better than the last until I finally gave him a dose of his own medicine, pushing his restraint past its breaking point.
My hand isn’t even close to what I really want, but it’s enough. It has to be enough. I’m panting and, for the moment, sated. Just imagining him. What he would do to me after wanting me for an entire year.
What I have wanted for an entire year.
The effect he has on me is something I can’t deny. And neither can he—especially if he’s still sitting in that chair, doing the exact same thing I just did.
Trying to do enough to get by.
What happens when it isn’t enough anymore? When one—or both of us—breaks?
I drape a tired arm over my flushed face, puffing out a hot breath. The temperature hasn’t eased. Not by a single degree. But I guess I never actually expected that it would.
There were rules. There are rules. And maybe Declan and I didn’t break them tonight.
But we damn sure came close.
Chapter 21
Sophie
I’m awake before my alarm, plagued by sex dreams that just don’t quit. With the way my body feels, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve had several more orgasms in my sleep. I’m covered in a light sheen of sweat, and my hair is a tangled mess.
I take a cold shower, already practicing my pitch. Today’s the big day. It’s a sheer force of will, but I use the shower to wash away any vestiges of what happened—or almost happened—last night. I need to focus. I need to bring the best version of myself.
The one who is focused on exceeding expectations and excelling in this job.
Still, I can’t help but feel a little flustered as I take a train earlier than I normally take to get to the office I just barely left last night. Is it going to be different with Declan?
No. I can’t think like that. It doesn’t matter. Today, he’s my boss. Today, I’m going to be a rockstar. I’m going to blow this pitch out of the water.
Andrea and Mark arrive together, converging on my desk before they even put their bags down at their own spaces.
“If you’re nervous, don’t be,” Mark says. “You’ve got this.”
“Hey, hey,” Andrea counters. “If you’re nervous, that’s completely valid. But we all know that you have this. We’re proud of you! I mean, you’re already presenting a pitch to the boss and the board. You already have something to celebrate.”
“Thanks,” I say, but my mind is elsewhere. I knew there were going to be a couple of board members there, but Andrea saying it makes it real. It’s almost as nerve wracking as presenting to Declan after last night.
Almost.
“Here.” Hannah sidles around Andrea and Mark and plops a coffee cup on my desk so unceremoniously that the hot liquid slops up over the sides, spilling on the surface. “I know you always get those lavender lattes from the place just down the street, but I got you a pour over. Black. I don’t think you want the foam and milk. The last thing you want to be is bloated in front of a bunch of VIPs. What a disaster that would be.”
“Thanks,” I say slowly, drawing the vowel out, not sure, as usual, that Hannah is doing anything that is actually nice for me. Do I look bloated? Is that what she generally thinks of me?
“That is so nice of you, Hannah,” Andrea says, hip-checking Hannah out of my area. “You can just—thanks. That will be all.” Andrea leans closer to me, her eyes wide. “Where does she even get off like that?” she hisses, laughing quietly.
“That’s just how she is,” Mark reasons, waving Andrea off. “We all know it by now. We just have to accept it.”
“Don’t let her get to you,” I advise Andrea, but I’m really talking to myself. I wore a dress today, belted, and heels a little higher than I usually sport. I know I look good. But trust Hannah to plant that little seed of doubt.
It’s comforting—and a mistake—to think about Declan. He’s only ever looked at me like I’m stunning, so Hannah can shove it.
