Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
It’s coming. For both of us.
I wedge my fists into the wood and lift my chest from hers, getting better leverage, working us calmly. Her eyes become glossy, shine madly, her body squirms, and it’s incredible to watch her expression change as her release creeps up. Her pussy squeezes me tighter. My cock pounds. My heart bucks.
“Brad,” she gasps.
“I’ve got you.” I grind hard and slow, and she jerks, blinks, and I come hard but calmly, my shakes instant as I explode. Pearl yells, bracing her hands on my forearms, tensing everywhere, waves of shudders rippling through her body with the pleasure.
Her eyes are wild, and I gasp, dropping to my forearms, my head on her chest. I pant, exhausted.
And the pleasure stays.
So much pleasure, so much peace, I can’t even muster the energy to regret what I’ve done.
Yet.
But once I’ve come down from my high?
8
PEARL
* * *
It was stupid, maybe. Inevitable, yes. I feel so incredibly full as he pulses inside me, his face hiding in my chest. The tingles are still intense. The euphoria incredible. His skin on mine.
Wanted.
Appreciated.
Safe.
But what now?
I know this is going nowhere—I know who Brad is, what he does. I know I’m just a number to him, a pussy. And I’m completely fine with that. He’s solved a problem for me and, really, the tension was unbearable. Will it be gone now that he’s scratched his itch?
I’m breathless, looking up at the ceiling, his weight a comfort I’m not used to. The guilt flames. But all I can think is, if I give it to someone, at least no one can take it from me.
I shift, disturbed by my thoughts, and Brad lifts his head and looks up at me. I search for regret. I search for shame. I find none. His eyes are clear—the swirl of anger I’m so used to gone. But what hasn’t disappeared is the inexplicable want I’m feeling now that I’ve admitted, and acted on, the pull I feel toward him. I should get dressed. Leave. Go to my room.
Hide.
But under his soft gaze, I’m capable of nothing except soaking up the unfamiliar warmth of both his body and his eyes. It’s . . . unexpected.
He’s the first to move, peeling his chest from mine. He takes my hands and pulls me up to sitting, and I automatically look between my legs expecting to see blood. “Are you okay?” he asks as he pulls the condom off and knots it.
I smile down at my thighs as I tug the cups of my bra up. “You keep asking me that.”
“You’ve not said much.” He pulls his trousers up and slips the condom in his pocket before pulling the two sides of his shirt together and buttoning it up.
“Neither have you.” I search the floor for my knickers, spotting them on top of my dress, but before I can slide off the desk to collect them, Brad’s dipped and picked up the bunch of clothes.
He separates my knickers from my dress, hands me my dress, and slips my knickers into his pocket. I shoot him a surprised look.
“We’re not done yet, Pearl.”
“We’re not?” I don’t know how I feel about that. Scratch the itch, and the itch is scratched. Obviously, I’m completely lying to myself. But taking more will make this whole situation even worse.
“Here.” Brad gathers my dress by the neck and slips it over my head. “Arms.” I lift them as instructed and watch him with interest as he dresses me. This isn’t good. I gravitated toward him when he was a cold arsehole. I don’t need him being all attentive and considerate. All the things I’m not used to. And yet I can’t stop myself taking his hand when he offers it and letting him help me down from the desk where I just let him fuck me. He keeps hold of me as he collects my bag and his jacket and leads us out of the office, apparently unconcerned by being seen by any one of the people who live here. He leads me up the stairs, down the corridor, and opens the door.
To his room.
I stop on the threshold as he stops just inside, turning on the lights, his back to the door to hold it open. Looking at me. Oh God, oh God, oh God. I shouldn’t enter this room. I should not go to bed with him. But to have that feeling of uninhibitedness again? To feel that warmth, that . . . affection?
I step inside on a deep breath and gaze around the room, and the door shuts behind me. I hear a thud, my bag and his jacket dropping to the floor, and my shoulders rise when I feel him move in behind me, pressing his front to my back. His groin into my arse. That heavy, persistent pulse drops to between my thighs again. Electricity sizzles and sparks around us. My body is flaming hot. It’s almost unbearable, and I know—fear—there’s only one way to cool it.