Page 173 of Stranger to Love

The second the red microphone and camera icons slashed across her screen, Carrie’s entire body caved. The terrifyingly calm Dr. Carter evaporated, replaced by a woman who was arching her back off the leather chair, her head hitting the headrest with a dull thud.

"Alex!" she hisses, her voice a wrecked, low-frequency vibration. "You... absolute... little... brat."

She was no longer pretending. Her legs wrapped around my shoulders, locking me in place as if she was afraid I might actually stop. Her hand dived under the mahogany edge, her fingers tangling desperately in my ponytail and pulling my face harder against her.

"They’re... they’re looking at a spreadsheet," she gasped, her eyes squeezed shut. "You have... five minutes... before he asks for my... final approval."

The challenge was set. I didn't waste a second of those precious five minutes. I increased the friction, my fingers moving in a blur as I felt the tremors in her thighs turn into full-blown quakes.

I could feel her nearing the edge—that frantic, tight clenching that happens just before the drop. I thumbed her centre with a relentless, heavy pressure, and Carrie’s head thrashed from side to side, her teeth gritted so hard I could hear them grinding.

"Alex... please," she whispered, the sound lost in the quiet of the office.

She was right on the brink, her breath coming in ragged, silent sobs, when the man’s voice piped up again. "So, Dr. Carter, based on those figures, do we have your sign-off to proceed?"

Carrie froze, her body vibrating like a live wire. I didn't. I pushed harder, my tongue finding that perfect, agonising spot and staying there.

I watched, mesmerised, as Carrie’s face contorted in a silent scream, her fingers digging so deep into my scalp it was a wonder she didn’t draw blood.

"Dr. Carter?" John's voice crackled through the air, sounding confused. "Are you still with us? I think we might have lost her."

The panic in his voice acted like a shot of adrenaline. With a shaking hand, Carrie lunged forward, her torso hovering inches over the desk as she fumbled for the keyboard. She hit the unmute button but kept the camera dead.

"I'm... still here," she managed. Her voice was a miracle—airy, slightly breathless, but projecting a ghostly echo of her usual authority.

At that exact moment, the dam finally broke.

Her internal muscles clamped down on my fingers with a rhythmic, crushing force. I didn't stop; I pushed deeper, my tongue relentless against her as she came, her body spasming against the chair. I could feel the heat of her, the sheer intensity of her release radiating through my entire face.

"The figures are... acceptable," Carrie managed to gasp, her breath hitching sharply as a violent shudder tore through her body. She was coming so hard her jaw locked, her eyes fluttering shut as she fought with every remaining shred of willpower not to scream into the microphone. "Proceed with... the plan. I’ll... email... later."

She slapped the receiver down before he could even process the pause, severing the connection in an instant.

She collapsed backward, her chest heaving violently, her legs dropping from my shoulders as her whole body gave out. Her blouse was wrecked, her hair undone, her legendary composure utterly shattered. I stared up at her in total, dazed awe. The sheer power of her—to suffer through a peak, mind-melting climax and still deliver orders without missing a beat—was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever witnessed.

I crawled out from under the desk, my face flushed and my fingers glistening. I looked up at her, a slow, triumphant smirk spreading across my lips.

Carrie opened one eye, looking down at me with a mixture of raw desire and genuine exasperation. "You," she rasped, her voice completely shot. "Are going to be the absolute death of me."

I deliberately licked my fingers as I watched her try to gather the scattered pieces of her dignity. I let out a low, satisfied hum. "Yeah, but you love me. And you’re stuck with me now. There's no way out, Dr. Carter."

Carrie bit her lip, a soft, dazed laugh escaping her as she sat up. She reached down, grabbing me by the waist and hoisting me up until I was straddling her lap, my trousers rubbing against the silk of her skirt. She cupped my face, her thumbs tracing my cheekbones before she pulled me into a kiss that tasted like surrender.

"Am I really?" she asked against my lips, her voice barely a whisper, searching my eyes for the truth. "Stuck with you?"

My heart leaped into my throat. The weight of the afternoon, the image of my dad in that suit, and the tears pouring from my Mum—it all hit at once.

"Yeah," I breathed, leaning my forehead against hers. "Carrie, everything you've done... you should have seen my parents. I wish you had. You didn't just give Dad a job; you gave them their lives back."

I hesitated for a heartbeat, the finality of my next words making my stomach flip in a way that felt like freedom.

"I'm going to do it," I said, my voice growing steadier. "I'm going to hand my notice in at The Dam. For real this time."

Carrie’s eyes softened, her grip on me tightening. She didn't gloat. She just looked at me with a fierce, quiet pride that made me feel ten feet tall.

"Good," she murmured, her hand sliding into the hair at the nape of my neck. "Because I have significantly better things for you to do with your evenings than pouring pints for strangers."

I chuckled, feeling the tension of the last few years finally start to dissolve. "Oh yeah? Like what?"