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Chapter Eleven:

Everybody Snores

Zeppelin

I slept like a fuckingbaby. Whether it was plain old exhaustion or that mind-blowing orgasm, I wasn’t sure, but I knew I needed to do that more often. I used to make sure I got off nearly every night before bed, but I hadn’t even attempted since moving into the Bishop’s home for fear of getting caught or having to edge myself because one of them needed me. But I caved last night, and I didn’t think I could go back to orgasm-less days. Not when I was the only one giving myself any kind of affection.

I made my way downstairs, feeling looser and calm, especially when Sterling was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see him, but when my little fantasy of Geralt had turned into him last night, I had a slight moment of panic that only worsened when he knocked on my door.

It was just once, just one time and he’s out of my system.

The universe had a funny sense of humor though, because the second that thought crossed my mind, Sterling walked in dripping sweat.

He suddenly wasn’t the only thing dripping in that house.

Seven Hells, get it together.“Morning.”

Carl panted and laid down right on the tile before Sterling could even take off his leash.

“Had to carry him half the way, the lazy shit.” He rolled his eyes as Carl whined and rolled over to play dead, then grabbed a bottle of water. “Morning, though. You sleep okay? I heard you snoring clear down the hall.”

“No, you didn’t,” I said nervously, eyes so wide I couldn’t remember the last time I blinked. “I don’t— fuck, do I? It’s been years since I slept next to anyone so I don’t even know.” Caffrey didn’t count, we were drunk and hopefully he wouldn’t remember anyway.

“I did,” he said seriously. “I heard uh ... everything last night. Guess your music wasn’t loud enough.” He flashed me a tight smile and chugged that water, squeezing the base of the bottle until the liquid was running down his chin and the lines of his neck.

“Y—” I watched the water drip down and couldn’t remember how to breathe. He’d heard me, I was suffocating myself with a pillow and he’d heard me ... or was he deliberately listening? Did he touch himself too? Did hearing me make him hard? I desperately needed to know, I just didn’t know how to ask, nor did I know how to stop the next words from falling from my lips. “Should I put it lower next time?”

He jerked, spilling some of that water before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Then your snoring would be even louder.”

That jerk was exactly what I needed to see. He was hard for me, and I could easily get him there again. “And are you complaining about my ... snoring, Sir?”

I spun around and walked toward the fridge, then bent over to pull some meat out to thaw for dinner, dying to know if he was still watching me.

“Of course not.” His voice was close, much too close, and I saw his giant, strong hand reaching past my head for the milk a moment before I felt his other one squeezing my hip. “Snore all you’d like.”

I fucking melted, full-body-shiver melted, but he stepped back when I turned around. The small distance between us felt charged almost, like there was a current tugging us closer and I couldn’t understand it. Didn’t he just hate me? Now he looks like he wants to eat me in the fun way. “Do you snore?” I asked simply, grasping at anything to keep him from walking away.

He huffed, then leaned in so close I could feel the scruff of his five o’clock shadow on my cheek. “Everyone snores, sweetheart. Do you want to listen sometime?”

The roughness in his voice, the promise there, the heat ghosting over my ear ... I was putty. “Yes,” I whispered, squirming right where I stood. “I really fucking would.” I couldn’t believe what was happening, but I damn sure didn’t want to miss out on the eargasm I was sure this man could cause.

My clit was already pulsing for it.

“Ready?” he crooned, dangerously smooth, tugging me a little closer until I could smell the mix of sweat and deodorant on his skin. I was dying, dead, prepared to bend over or kneel down right there, and then the fucker actually snored. Loud, obnoxious, and right in my fucking ear.

Without thinking, I reached out and twisted his nipple with a scoff. “Ass! I definitely thought you’d snore sexier than that.”

He had me pinned to the table so quickly that I barely felt a thing. “Oh, I do. But this is hardly the time or place for that, is it?”

His phone rang and he stepped back to answer it with his smartwatch like I wasn’t about to hyperventilate right in front of him.

“Yeah?” he said calmly, adjusting his earbud and walking to the sink to wash his hands. “Move it to Wednesday, then. Tell Gianna I don’t care if it interferes with yoga, I need her there. She knows I’ll make it up to her.” He paused. “Good. And Colin, I want you to go home when you finish that up. We both know I worked you hard enough this week ...”

His voice trailed away as he left the kitchen, and I struggled to catch my breath. I’d shared an actual kiss with Caffery and felt nothing compared to this. My chest rose and fell like I was the one who ran with Carl and I was so fucking wet I had to rush up to my bedroom to change. Only I didn’t just change. Charlie was nowhere around, Sterling was on a phone call or showering, and I hoped I’d get away with it this time without being heard. I was so turned on I skipped my vibe all together and instead slid two fingers in my dripping pussy, yearning for them to be his. How would it feel if they were? Would he take his time with me? Edge me until I was shaking and begging for release? Or would he get me off in thirty seconds just to know he could? Because right then, he absolutely could’ve.

My thumb grazed my clit as my fingers curled, eyes closed, jaw slack as I pictured my sweaty boss standing over me. I could still smell his faint cologne in the air, and the second I remembered how his scruff felt against my cheek, I came. Choking back my moan was harder this time, as if deep down, some primal part of me wanted him to hear it. I wanted him to crave me the way I was craving him, inexplicable, dangerous, stupid, and when I laid there in a post-orgasm daze, I still couldn’t stop wondering what his cock looked like.

All in all ... I was totally screwed.

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