"Touch yourself. I want to watch."
My hand slides between us, finding my clit, and the combination of his cock inside me and my fingers on myself is almost too much.
"That's it," he groans. "Just like that. You're so fucking gorgeous like this."
His pace increases slightly, his hips snapping forward with more force, and I'm so close I can barely breathe.
"Victor, I'm?—"
"I know. I can feel you. Come all over me, Harper. Let go."
And I do. My body explodes around him without my permission, my limbs trembling with the force of it, and I hear him groan my name as he follows me over the edge.
He collapses on top of me, careful to keep most of his weight on his forearms, and we lie there breathing hard, our hearts racing in sync.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. Then Victor shifts slightly, rolling to the side and pulling me with him so I'm tucked against his chest, his arm wrapped around my waist.
“Holy hell,” he huffs. “You were—that was?—“
"Yeah."
"Better than?—"
"Definitely."
"We should?—"
"Probably not. But eventually."
He laughs, the raspy sound rumbling through his chest where my ear is pressed.
"You're very articulate post-sex," he says.
"You destroyed my vocabulary. I'm working with limited resources here."
We lie there in shared silence, and I let myself enjoy the moment. The warmth of his body. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The way his fingers rub slowly and meticulously across my skin—carving invisible little circles and figure-eights along the surface. I shiver.
"Cold?" he asks.
"No. Just sensitive."
"Everywhere?"
"Apparently."
His hand slides lower, over my ribs, my waist, my hip. "Should I stop?"
"Don't you dare."
He chuckles, and his hand continues its exploration, as we lie there for a while longer. Before long, I can feel sleep starting to pull at me. But then Victor's voice cuts through the haze.
"Harper?"
"Hmm?"
"About the board vote…”
And just like that, reality crashes back in.
