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She lands on her back, dark hair spilling across the white sheets, her chest heaving, her nipples tight, her lips swollen and shining.

I strip off my shirt and kick the rest of my clothes away. She watches every second of it.

Her legs part without my asking. I slip off her heels one at a time, hook her panties, and drag them down her legs. Then I drop to my knees at the edge of the bed and slide my hands up the inside of her thighs, pushing them wide until she’s completely bare to me.

She’s dripping wet. Her pussy folds are swollen and flushed, glistening in the lamplight. I run one finger through them, slow, and her hips jerk. A soft, pleading sound leaves her.

I drag my tongue through her in one long stroke. I lay my forearm across her belly to hold her down and spread her thighs wider. I lick her clit, circle it, suck it, then push my tongue inside her pussy and fuck her with it. I slide two fingers inside of her until I find the spot that arches her back off the mattress.

Her hands grab for anything they can reach: my hair, the sheets, the headboard. She’s loud tonight. She holds nothing back, moaning and begging, her hips rocking against my mouth, and her thighs start to shake.

I don’t stop.

Her orgasm hits so hard I need both hands to hold her down. She pulses against my mouth, cries out loud enough to fill the entire suite, and squirts on my tongue. I lap up every drop of her and work her through each wave until the last tremor fades.

When I rise, she’s still twitching, her face flushed, her lips parted. My cock is already hard again–aching, pulsing to be inside of her.

I crawl over her and kiss her, deep and messy, letting her taste herself. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, and her hips lift, grinding up against me.

I take my cock in my hand and drag the head through her, then over her clit. Slowly. Back and forth. Her eyes fly open.

She arches up. “Please…”

I push inside her in one long and punishing stroke. The sound she makes strips away whatever patience I have left. I grip her hips and set a hard rhythm, driving deep. She meets every thrust, nails raking down my back, and every sound she makes pulls something more possessive out of me. I want all of them.

I pull out and flip her onto her stomach. I drag her hips up and drive back into her from behind, one hand fisted in her hair, the other gripping her hip hard enough to mark her. Her pussy walls tighten around me. I’m close again. Too close. I pull out so I can savor this longer.

She makes a frustrated sound into the sheets. I spread her open and lower my mouth, licking between her cheeks, and she flinches. I don’t stop. My tongue finds her hole and circles it, pressing in, and her flinch melts into a low moan. She pushes back against my face.

I rise behind her and slide my cock through her pussy once more, coating myself in her wetness, then slide back and press the head against her anal entrance. I ease in slowly.

She’s impossibly tight. The feeling nearly finishes me on the spot, and every inch is a fight against my own control. I go by degrees, giving her time to adjust, watching for any sign she wants me to stop. She pushes back instead, taking more of me.

That’s the end of my restraint.

I grip her hair and thrust harder. She takes every bit of it, moaning into the sheets, rocking back to meet me every time I pull away. Her body starts to shake again, and I slip my hand beneath her to find her clit.

When she comes, her whole body seizes around me, and I follow instantly. I bury myself to the hilt and spill deep inside her, groaning against her spine, my whole body shuddering through the release.

I collapse onto her back, and we sink into the sheets together. For a long moment, the only sound is our breathing.

“Wow,” she breathes into the pillow.

A laugh escapes me against her shoulder. “Yes.”

Minutes later, I sit up and ease out of bed. I pull her up with me. Both of us walk to the bathroom together. I turn on the hot water and let the steam fill the room. In the shower, the hot water runs over us both, and my hands move over her skin without any hurry now, washing the evening away. She leans back against my chest under the spray, and I press a kiss to her temple.

The room is completely dark by the time Blaire falls asleep against me. Her body is warm beneath the covers, one leg tangled with mine, her head resting against my chest while my hand settles over the curve of her waist. Her breathing has gone slow and even, but my heart is still coming down from everything that happened between us.

I close my eyes and try to let the quiet pull me under with her. It almost works. Then the timing of the project pushes its way into my head.

We’re already well into the second month. The Geneva work will feed back into the London review, the remaining discrepancies will be reconciled, and before long Blaire’s role will begin to narrow instead of expand. I know the schedule. I’ve seen the projections. I know exactly how quickly the next few weeks can disappear once the final stages begin.

For the first time, I hate that I know. Until now, the project has given me an excuse I haven’t needed to question. It puts her at the estate, in the library, in meetings, within reach. It gives us late nights and stolen hours and reasons to end up in the same place even when neither of us says that’s what we’re doing. When it ends, none of that happens automatically anymore.

I stare into the darkness above us and feel an immediate resistance to the thought. I don’t know what comes after the project. I haven’t asked her, and I haven’t let myself think far enough ahead to decide what I’d even want the answer to be.

Blaire shifts in her sleep and presses closer. My hand tightens around her instinctively. Whatever comes later can wait. Right now, she’s here. I close my eyes again, draw her closer against my chest, and let the warmth of her body quiet everything else until sleep finally takes me.