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I screamed again, releasing a sob as he pinched my clit, which had me surging onto my tiptoes and changing the angle entirely.
With each thrust, I felt like he was touching the hand he’d pressed to my stomach, and I writhed beneath him as he carried on.
Over and over.
Hitting that spot that made me want to scream.
His pace quickened even more, and in my ear, his harsh grunting breaths were replaced with, “Come for me, Star. My beautiful, beautiful naughty girl. So fucking tight, so fucking wet. You were born to bring me to my knees, Star. So fucking bad, so fucking good.”
A mewling cry keened from me, long and high as I shuddered through an orgasm that almost had me face-planting into the desk—that was how unawares it took me by.
I caught myself, just, as he carried on pounding that same goddamn spot, and I sagged into the desk, the cold chill of the glass sending more shockwaves through me, my feet losing purchase as I allowed my upper body to take my weight.
The next time I screamed, I knew I was going to shut down.
The darkness loomed in my vision and it was speckled red as if the tiny veins at the backs of my eyes were sparking with the electricity generated by my nerves.
When he came, his low, long groan ricocheting in my ears, I swore I could feel him fill me up. I swore that it triggered that endless darkness that had me losing all sensation, that stole me of my very self, only for it to be delivered back to me in a cascade of pleasure that was beyond anything I’d ever known before.
I didn’t black out. I was awake but not aware as he somehow arranged me so that we were back in his seat and he was softening deep inside me.
My nervous system was still sparking as if on overload, so I let him do what he wanted and just rested against him.
Just trusted him.
Just accepted that he was deserving of my faith in him.
Just loved him.
And after a few minutes, when he had his breath under control, he got back to work while I sat on his knee and he proved, yet again, that he did beat the best armchair on the market—I never wanted to leave this spot.
Ever.
12
CONOR
I didn’t mind that she spaced out, mostly because I knew why.
If I’d thought I’d triggered her, then it’d be a different matter entirely.
Instead, she was slower than usual. Her eyes dazed. Her mouth was relaxed. Her coordination poor as if she were on a lag.
It meant I got to hold onto her longer, though, so I wasn’t going to complain.
She sat on my knee like the good girl she wasn’t, exposed and bare in a way I didn’t think she’d like but she didn’t seem to be fighting even after gravity did its thing.
When I wondered if I'd made her glitch, I turned her so she lay across me and could cuddle up on my lap.
That was when I had confirmation she was okay—she cuddled into me.
With my chin pressed to her shoulder, I tugged the outer edges of my hoodie around her, and because it was oversized, it provided her with some cover, but mostly, I left her alone as I worked, knowing she was content and not wanting to disturb her.
I thought she dozed because her breathing calmed and she turned her face under my chin as if she needed the darkness to sleep.
I’d never felt as close to anyone in my life.
It was fitting that we shared this, then.
