She does… straight into my face. The moisture rolls down my cheek, hitting my smile lines. “That works, too.”
I scoop it onto my fingers, smearing it across my cock, adding precum as my fingers curl over the head, pumping rhythmically. My cheeks burn hotter the longer I palm myself, already close.
And my balls tighten, a groan erupting from my throat as my release spurts, slashing ropes of cum across Ophelia’s breasts. I scoop my arm around her waist before she can think of escape, working the creamy droplets into her skin, massaging across her ribs, into her belly button, across her breasts.
When I’m finished, I pull her onto my lap, the same buzz as yesterday filling my body. A satisfied hum in my bones.
“Why are you holding me?” Ophelia’s voice is a cracked whisper, and the question seems bigger, encompassing more than what she specifically asks. “Why did you yesterday?”
“Probably Oxytocin.” I hug until her soft curves melt into my hard chest, giving her the only reason I can think of because I don’t understand it either. “It makes me want to wrap around you so tight; you’ll be absorbed into me and can never ever get away. It’ll wear off in a minute or two.”
Even that admission feels perilously close to the bone, and my arms hold tighter, pushing aside the inevitable moment we’ll have to part.
It’s not just relief from my emptiness.
Cradling Ophelia in my arms feels more like healing.
“Can I ask you something?”
Her voice is tremulous and when I nod, she chews her lip again, the pinkness deepening into red.
“Are you doing this because I didn’t report Craig?” There’s a sheen in her eyes that reappears the moment she blinks it away. “Is that—”
“Craig’s going to wish you’d reported him.”
The menacing words aren’t enough; my throat constricts at the self-doubt on her face.
“And I’m doing this because you fascinate me. You appear so innocent, so pure, yet you committed blackmail and fraud without a hint of regret.” I snort. “Then you sprayed my eyes with poison when I suggested you had the hots for me.”
“When you propositioned me about becoming your sex slave, you mean.”
The defiant spark is welcome.
“Same difference.” I softly cup her shoulder. “You know you smiled when I accused you of blackmail that first day, right? I’m not the only one who’s a fucking psycho.”
“Five minutes after you threatened to kill me!”
“I don’t know what stories you tell yourself up here”—I tap her brow—“but you’re not Miss Sweet and Pure, and your actions show you’d be a terrible reporting risk…ifI’d actually done something you objected to.”
“Right. I’m gagging for it, am I?” Her lips twist like she tastes something sour.
“Those aren’t my words. They shouldn’t be yours, either.”
The high fades, leaving behind a different emptiness than usual, achingly soft instead of fiery sparks and shards.
When I stretch, yawning, Ophelia scrambles free. “I need a shower.”
“No, you don’t.”
“But I smell—”
“You smell of me and that’s exactly what I want.” I capture her wrist and kiss a line down her naval, inhaling the scent of us both, then kissing each inner thigh.
Standing, I collect my bag and withdraw the clothes stashed inside. “Luckily, I bought a new uniform for you. I think your blouse is beyond saving.”
“Why do you care what state my uniform’s in? It’s not like you’ll be anywhere near me.”
Her eyes flick towards my face, and I reach for her glasses before she sees my pleasure at her sniping. Keeping company with Chelsea obviously bugs her, and the jealousy is delicious.
