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Emma
If there’s such a thing as too many orgasms, I’m pretty sure I got there last night. Not only am I seriously sore in all sorts of places, but the entire day, I’m stumbling around like a zombie, yawning and chugging down coffee in a futile attempt to stay awake at work.
Marcus clearly doesn’t need much sleep or recovery time because after that kinky sexathon in the shower, he woke me up at six o’clock this morning to—what else—have even more s*x. And then, because he didn’t have an early-morning meeting, he went for a six-mile run.
Billionaires must not be human. Or at least this one doesn’t seem to be. Maybe he’s secretly a cyborg from the future—Terminator, the s*x robot edition.
At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised.
The good news is that by waking up at that ungodly hour,
