Pants dropped to the floor, I can catch brief, fleeting glimpses of his tight ass peeking out from beneath his shirt.

Fuck, it’s hot, but what’s even hotter is watching him lose that cool he projects to the rest of the world.

I’ve been craving this again, I realize. After witnessing it last night, I need to see him unravel before I can completely let go.

The last of his carefully constructed mask is gone and in its place is the face of a man I don’t know. Eyes filled with passion, sweat on his brow, and jaw set with determination, I’ve never seen him look more alive.

And it’s fucking beautiful.

Just knowing that I did that, that I forced the real him out of his shell again, sends me spiraling out of control.

Nails clawing at the desk, I scream his name and clamp down on his cock just before the first wave of my release crashes into me.

It’s so fucking strong, I can’t see, can’t think, can’t even breathe. Only feel.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I hear him curse and he yanks viciously on my hair.

He drives his cock upwards, fighting through my clench. His hips driving into me with a relentless determination that forces me up onto my toes.

Pleasure, so much hot, liquid pleasure courses through me, my entire body shudders and trembles.

Then I feel him swelling, his cock pulsing and jerking as he pumps me full of warmth.

Through sheer force of will, I peel my eyes open. Drinking in the sight of him as he bends over me, losing the last vestiges of his own control.

His face contorts with a mixture of pleasure and possession until he finally stills with a groan.

“Simon,” I gasp as he releases his grip on my hair and I drop back down to my feet.

The movement causes a little aftershock to flutter through me and my pussy clings desperately to him as he starts to slide out.

Freezing against me, he presses his forehead against my neck and groans as I shamelessly milk his cock for the very last drop.

“Meredith,” he breathes against my neck as the last spasm fades away, leaving me feeling as if I’ve been hung up and wrung out.

“Are you done, angel?” he asks, reaching up and tenderly brushing back my hair out of my eyes for me.

The movement is so tender, the endearment so damn sweet, I’m caught off-guard.

“I think so,” I croak, not sure if I want to try and make a run for it or collapse in his arms.



“Simon…” Meredith says quietly as we slowly slump back into the chair, my arms tightly wound around her waist.

Even now, my tortuous cock is threatening to awake from its half-life. I’m all too aware that right now I’m so far outside of my comfort zone with this level of intimacy…

It’s unnerving.

The comfort and security I feel holding her close to me… it’s as if she’s become some sort of security blanket.

Our bodies fluids don’t even bring out my normal revulsion. Is this what I should feel like when I hold the woman I’ve craved for so long?

“Yes, princess?” I ask as I sink further into the chair. Staring off into the screen of my computer.

There, in living color, are two lovers, melded together as one. I watch, almost hypnotized by the way her breasts rise and fall as she catches her breath. It has a maddening sexuality to it, the way it mesmerizes me.

My tongue aches to claim each little bump on her skin, to taste her sweat.

“Please don’t think I’ve been… well, thinking of other things while you ravished me. But were you looking for Asad at all?” she asks.

Her naked flesh pressed against my legs has too much of a dizzying effect for me to grasp what she’s asking immediately.

Asad… Why would I even…

“Why do you ask?” comes out of my mouth before I can fully comprehend the ramifications of her asking about him.

Ahmed was not in favor with his father. He may have had access to some monies, but he was the black sheep of the family. Asad is not like Ahmed in that regard. In fact, he’s the exact opposite. He is fully in favor, his devout lifestyle and strict adherence to his father’s wishes makes him… deadly.

Deadly in the sense that he has the full capabilities of getting anything he wants from his father, and far more connections than Ahmed could have ever hoped for.

“Because… yesterday when I… We… Well… When I was alone in the house, I was looking at some of your live feeds…” she says, and I can tell she’s scared now, because of what happened yesterday and of the man Asad.

Sitting up straighter, I pull her tight to my chest as I roll us forward in the chair. My arms encase her in my need to get to my keyboard and mouse.