Chapter 60 – Pleasing the Boss

God. I can’t even see him and yet…

Why is it so hot?

My orgasm comes much too fast and borderline too strong. The world goes black, and I’m lost. Spinning in an ecstasy that should be illegal, or at the very least, ethically wrong. To be sure, it might actually be wrong. The same factors that have my toes curling and my body shaking are the same ones that will keep me up tonight in confusion—we’re in my husband’s bed; he’s not my husband; he makes me feel too good in comparison.

Is it the wrongness that makes my body react so right?

If Elvis weren’t in the picture, if it were just Hadrian and me, would the attraction still exist for either of us? Would the orgasms be this good? Would he still “come for me”?

I’m sweating and dizzy as I start to find my place in the world again, as if that’s possible, since I’m pretty sure my world will never be the same. Even after the mind-blowing O, I’m unsatiated, wishing and wanting for more.

Which is why I don’t fight when Hadrian is no longer kneeling, but instead standing behind me, his swollen c**k sliding against my sl**k folds.

“I could do it,” he says. “I could f**k you right now. Get it over for both of us.”

I don’t breathe. The decision is too difficult in my current state. My brain is too unbalanced with lust to make an honest choice.

It’s also too dazed to put a stop to him.

So I make the decision not to decide. I leave it up to him.

He pulls back and slides his c**k against my folds again, letting his crown nudge my sensitive c**t, which sends another skittering of shivers through my body.

“f**k.” It’s almost indiscernible. A curse spoken so quietly, I’m not sure I was meant to hear, and this time when he pulls back, he returns with his head notched at my hole.

“Just the tip.” He pushes in, just an inch before retreating. “The virtuous girls I dated in high school played this game. Just the tip, and it won’t count.”

His thick crown pokes in again, and it’s all I can do not to th**st my h*ps backward in invitation. In acceptance.

“Just the tip,” he repeats. “That’s what I’d promise, and then when I got them in this position, I’d push all the way in, virginity be f**king damned.” His palm r*bs my haunch. “That’s who I am, Brystin. Don’t trust me. I could f**k you now, and you’d let me. Don’t say you wouldn’t.”

I open my mouth, not sure what response is waiting on my t***ue.

“Don’t. Say. A thing.” He sounds like it’s taking every effort for him to speak, and I want so much to please him that I swallow the words in my mouth. “If you say no, I still might do it. If you say yes, I don’t want the guilt of knowing I changed your mind.”

My last orgasm is still fresh in my limbs, and yet I’ve never felt so empty. Like I’ve been carved out and hollowed, and Hadrian’s c**k is my only chance of feeling filled. And I know it’s just sex. I know it doesn’t last. It’s a momentary need, and as soon as he puts his dick away, that emptiness won’t seem so bulging.

But it will still be there.

I will still be empty, and I’ll keep chasing a way to fill that hole. I’ll keep chasing career accolades and Elvis’s love and neither will ever, ever be enough.

Could it be different with Hadrian? Could he love me back and be…more?

It’s too big of a question, and I’m cum drunk and a fool, and I need Hadrian inside me right the f**k now.

“Please?” I beg. “Please.”

“Ah, f**k. Brystin.”

I’m a thousand percent sure that the next thing I’ll feel is the th**st of his c**k, filling me up to the hilt.

But right before he drives in, there’s a sound from the other room.

We both freeze. Which means Hadrian heard it too.

I strain my ears. And then… “Brystin? Are you here?”

“f**k!” I repeat the word over and over as I scramble to my feet, pulling up Hadrian’s sweats and tying them as fast as I can while he puts his very erect c**k inside his pants. “f**k, f**k, f**k, f**k, f**k.”

Hurriedly, I smooth out the covers as best as I can. “In here!” I call out, then pull Hadrian over to the dresser so that when Elvis shows up in the doorframe of his room, it looks believable when I say, “I was just showing Hadrian your Dupont award.”

On cue, Hadrian picks up the metal bar to inspect the engraving. “Lighter than I thought it would be.” He returns it to its spot. “It’s cute.”

I want to slug him for the passive-aggressive show of male superiority, reducing a respected journalism award to “cute,” while simultaneously praying that my husband doesn’t have a habit of glancing down at men’s crotches because commando Hadrian means that he currently has a tent in his jeans.

“I didn’t expect you to be here, Hadrian. Where’s Shiloh?” Elvis looks from me to Hadrian. Back to me. He’s not an idiot. If I had any decency, I wouldn’t push the façade.

I’m pretty sure all my decency flew out the window the minute I laid eyes on Hadrian Seymour, and so I cross to Elvis and give him a peck on the cheek, even though I rarely greet him this way normally. “Shiloh had an appointment. Hadrian came by after he saw the news today. You saw it?”

“Quite a scandal to wake up to,” Hadrian says, as unfazed as ever.

His exp**ssion is hard and unreadable as he again looks from me to Hadrian. “That’s why I came home early. You weren’t answering your texts. I knew you’d be worried.”

See, Shiloh? Elvis came for me too.

Somehow it doesn’t feel the same.

“My phone’s charging. I haven’t looked at it all morning. Hadrian has been coaching me for my interviews. And he talked to PR. They don’t think it’s going to be an issue.” I’m smiling too much and too wide, and I don’t know what to do with my hands, and I’m keenly aware that I’m still wearing Hadrian’s clothes and that there’s a faint smell of sex in the air.

But Hadrian acts as though he’s the king of innocence. “Not worried about the publicity at all,” he confirms. “Scott agrees that we shouldn’t address it head-on, but I’ve prepped Brystin’s responses, and I’ve sent someone to pay the doorman at your Manhattan apartment to say he saw her there last night as well as leaving with you this morning.”

Well, I hadn’t been aware of that.

And now, Elvis knows I didn’t spend last night in my own bed.

Hadrian doesn’t know we have a completely open marriage or that the “no intercourse” rule is just mine. He has his suspicions, but I’ve never validated them, and if he was wrong, this information could be a bomb drop to my relationship with Elvis.

It might be a bomb drop regardless.

I should be more worried about it. Should be mad at Hadrian. Should be concerned about Elvis’s reaction. Should be, at this very moment, mentally preparing my defense.

But the only thing I’m thinking about as Hadrian shakes Elvis’s hand, and passes close enough for him to likely get a whiff of p**sy breath, is how soon I can be alone with Hadrian again.

And when I am, how long it will be before my rule is officially broken.

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