My pen clicked rhythmically against the manuscript as I stared out the window, my thoughts drifting far from the words in front of me. My thighs clenched slightly as my mind betrayed me, pulling me back to him.
How his metallic eyes gleamed as he watched me sprawled across my desk. How his strong hands couldn’t seem to decide whether to grip my hips or my breasts. How his c**k thrust into me with a relentless pace that made everything—everything—but him disappear.
Daniel Garrett could f**k. There was no doubt about it.
And, as far as I could tell, he was perfectly fine with us just f*****g.
He had completely worn me down Saturday night, giving me so many orgasms I’d lost count. He left me utterly ruined, so blissfully sated that I could hardly believe my own luck. Then, with one last k
