And just like that, a switch flips in my brain and I stop fighting him. I relax entirely into what he’s doing, letting him in deeper, letting him control everything. It allows him another precious inch or two, but he looks like I just gave him a priceless gift. “That’s right, baby girl. Trust me. Take me deep.”

  I move my fist as a counterpoint to the way he fucks my mouth, driven on by his low curses and moans. He looks pained as he stares down at me. “Jesus Christ, Miya. Sweet fuck, suck me harder. I’m close.”

  I obey. I’m helpless to do anything but exactly what he wants me to. When he comes, I swallow him down, sucking his cock even as his grip loosens and it’s more like he’s hanging on for support than trying to hold me in place. He finally drags me off his cock with a curse and watches me with an almost strained expression as I lick my lips.

  “You might not be the only one who dies from fucking.” Albus pulls me to my feet and kisses me hard. We taste like each other, like the dirtiest kind of fucking, like the promise of more.

 He finally releases me and tucks his cock back in his pants, but the way his gaze skates over me says he’s considering another plan of attack. “Seeing you in that tiny skirt and knowing I can slip my hand under it whenever I want is addicting, Miya.”

He does exactly as he says, palming me under my skirt. “I can’t get enough,” he murmurs, almost as if he’s talking to himself.

He wedges two fingers into me and then goes still as if savoring the way I feel. “You make me feel like I’m eighteen and just want to fuck and fuck and fuck.”

  I release a shuddering breath. “I feel like that with you, too.”

  “You need to eat something.”

  “I’m really not hungry.”

  For some reason, that makes him shake his head. He withdraws his fingers slowly, reluctantly, and then smooths down my skirt as if making sure everything is in its place. Then he holds my gaze as he sucks his fingers into his mouth and cleans me off him.

  “Fuck,” I breathe. “Why is that so hot?”

  “Because it’s us.” He walks to the sink to wash his hands and then moves to the fridge. “Why don’t you go watch some TV? This will be a little bit.”

  It’s not exactly a command, but it sounds firmer than a suggestion. “Yes, Daddy,” I say primly and then walk out while he’s still cursing.

  I don’t mean to fall asleep on the couch. One second I’m watching my favorite slasher film on demand, and the next I’m vaguely aware of Albus picking me up and carrying me upstairs. I barely manage to open my eyes as he pulls my clothes off, and guides me onto my stomach to ease the plug out. “Sorry,” I manage.

  “You need the rest.” He disappears for a few moments, and then returns to tuck us into his bed.

  I’m barely awake enough to register disappointment that apparently we’re just sleeping now, him wrapping his big body around me, before darkness sucks me under once more. I don’t dream, which is a relief in and of itself.

  I open my eyes to the morning light streaming through the windows and Albus’s comforting weight next to me. It takes several long moments for the sounds I’m hearing to penetrate, and another few before my mind is functioning well enough to focus on him sitting against the headboard. On how he has my phone in his hand. On the way his other hand is beneath the sheets bunched at his waist, moving rhythmically.

  “Albus.”

  “Mmm.” He looks at me, but doesn’t make a move to stop what he’s doing.

  I sit up. “Are you jacking off right next to me? With my phone?”

  “Come here.” He stops stroking himself and pulls me to sit on his lap, my back to his chest. “We didn’t get around to watching this yesterday.”

  I don’t ask how he has the code to my phone. I’ve never been particularly stealthy when unlocking it, and this man misses nothing. Instead, I settle back against him as he presses play again and I’m confronted with the video of his fingers in my pussy.

 I’ve seen it a number of times at this point in real life, but somehow in the video it looks even filthier. His fingers are soaked, my wetness coating them. Then the angle changes and he’s shoving those same fingers into my mouth.

  I barely recognize myself.

  This video version of me taking his fingers as he grips my chin looks like… I shift in his lap. “I really do look like a dirty little slut.”

  “It gets better,” he growls against my neck.

  The phone moves. This is where I went to get condoms, and I watch as Albus sets it on the couch and adjusts the angle before taking his seat. “How many times have you watched this while you waited for me to wake up?” I whisper.

  “A few.” His hand skates over my hip and down to cup my pussy. “Sore?”

  “Yes.” I spread my legs a bit more. “But I don’t care. I’ll take anything you give me today.” Because it’s the last day. The last night. Tomorrow this ends, and I’m desperately afraid it’s already too late for me. It’s going to hurt to walk away and never seen Albus again, but what am I supposed to do? Kyle and I need a clean break. If I keep fucking Albus, eventually I’ll see Kyle again and that’s…

  In the phone, I come back into the frame and there’s some shuffling as he rolls the condom on. As dirty as it felt to be riding his cock that first time, it looks even dirtier. Even in the freaking phone camera, I can see how big he is, how wet it gets me as I ride him. I watch his cock disappear into my pussy, watch my body roll sensuously as I ride him. “I look really hot.”

  Albus chuckles and presses a finger into my pussy. I am sore, but I’m too turned on to care. He pumps slowly. “You like watching yourself.”

  “I like watching us.” I try to hold still, try to focus on the video and not on lifting my hips to meet his hand. “I wasn’t sure when you said you wanted to record it, but this? This is sexy as hell.”

  The recording of us switches positions and I meet my own gaze in the phone. I look completely unrepentant, so out of my mind that I don’t give a damn that I’m completely on display—that I’m actually into being on display. “I like watching you fuck me.”

  “Mmm.” He just keeps up those slow strokes, as if he can do this all day.

  We watch in silence for the rest of the video, and then I swipe to the next one. I squirm on his finger at the sight of him spreading my pussy and his tongue flicking over my clit, but it’s the way he watches me in the video that really does a number on me.

The man looks at me like I’m his. Not just in sexy playacting. Actually his. As if he’s wanted this for so long, he can’t fucking believe he’s gotten it, and he’s not going to let it go without a fight.

  That was only the first night.

  I swipe again and there’s the picture of him with that exact expression in his eyes, with his mouth all over my pussy. “This one’s my favorite.”

  “Mine, too.”

  Pleasure builds in slow waves. I lean my head back against his shoulder. “Do you want me to send them to you?”

  “Not yet.”

  I twist a little to look at him. “What do you mean not yet?”

  “Not yet,” he repeats. Albus sets me on the bed and then moves down to settle between my thighs. “It occurs to me that I promised to wake you up with my mouth, and I’ve failed on that count twice now.”

  I take a slow breath and release the tiny flicker of frustration at him dodging my question. This is what I’m here for, after all. Orgasms. Fucking. Not to pepper him with questions that have nothing to do with either. Except… It was his idea to film us. Why doesn’t he want a copy of the videos?

  Albus’s mouth scatters my thoughts like bowling pins. Once again, he’s treating this like the main event, like he could lick and kiss and tongue-fuck me all day and be completely satisfied with only that. I whimper and dig my fingers into his hair. “I love the way you eat my pussy. It’s like you never want to stop.”

  “I can’t get enough of you, baby girl,” he murmurs against me. “Your taste is like a fucking drug. I don’t ever want to stop.” He circles my clit with the tip of his tongue, making me moan. “And when you sound like that? I could draw those sounds from you all fucking day.”

  And then there’s no more air for talking. I expect him to tease me like he has before, to push me to the edge and then back off again and again. This morning is different. Albus’s going after my pussy like my orgasms are a secondary benefit. Like this is all for him and if I come, I come, because he’s not going to stop.

  By my second orgasm, I’m panting. I try to shove his face away, but he just shifts a little to the side, leaving my over-sensitized clit alone and sucking and licking my pussy lips. “Oh my god, Albus. You’re going to kill me. I can’t—”

  “You can take more,” he growls. He bands an arm over my hips, pinning me in place as he winds me up again. “You’re going to take as much as I decide to give you.”

  I barely register when my grip on his hair goes from trying to get him off me to trying to get him closer. Time has no meaning right now. I lift my hips, but he holds me down, only making it hotter. “Albus, please.”

  He ignores me, intent on tracing every inch of me with his tongue as if trying to memorize me. I shiver and shake and then I’m coming again, my heels digging into the mattress and a shriek escaping my lips. “Oh, fuck.”

  Still, he doesn’t stop.

  “Albus…” I whimper. I can’t think, can’t fucking focus. “Please Daddy.” I’m almost sobbing. “Just a little break.”

  “You need this cock, baby girl?”

  I don’t know if I can take that any more than I can take his mouth his mouth right now, but I’m already nodding. “Yes. Please, yes.”

  He crawls up my body and guides his cock into me. Albus gathers me to him and fucks me slowly. The man holds me like he cares about me. I was wrong. This doesn’t feel like fucking. This slow slide of his cock, his face buried in my neck, his hands holding me so damn close… It feels like a whole lot more than sex.

  I love it.

  I soak it up like the best kind of alcohol, not caring that it will hurt in the end. I want it now. I want him. “Kiss me,” I gasp.

  He lifts his head and takes my mouth. This, too, feels like we’re communicating on a level beyond words. Like he’s telling me something and I’m answering and neither of us can pretend otherwise.

 I’m lost in a sea of pleasure, clinging to him as each stroke pushes us farther and farther toward something we can’t take back, my stupid broken heart in my throat. It’s a good thing his tongue steals my words before I can give them voice, because unforgivable sentences spill together inside my head.

  Keep me.

  Please keep me.

  I think I might love you.

  They wash away as I come, further disperse as he follows me over the edge. We lay there for a long time, the sweat cooling on our bodies, our breathing slow easing back to normal, and still he doesn’t move. I stroke my hands down his back and whimper when he thrusts into me a little. “Oh god, that feels good and also not good and you’re going to make me come again.”

  Albus, the bastard, does it again. “I can’t get enough of you, Miya.” He’s said it before, but it feels different now. Like a promise instead of another flavor of dirty talk. He thrusts a third time. It doesn’t matter that he’s only half hard in me. It’s like my body is already poised after so much pleasure, like it’s unable to stop.

  I writhe under him, nearly mindless. “Why can’t I stop?” I whine. “It’s too much.”

  “I know.” He kisses me as he thrusts. Drinking me down even as we grind together, mindless and frenzied.

  I grab his ass and pull him tighter against me, lifting my hips to work myself on him. “Yes. Right there. I’m so close.”

  “Use me, baby girl. Get yourself off. Once more and you can rest.”

  Pleasure short-circuits what’s left of my brain. Words pour out and this time his mouth isn’t there to catch them. “I hate you. Oh god, I love you. I don’t fucking know, just…” I cry out as I orgasm. I might actually black out.

 It sure as hell seems like it because one second I’m writhing on his cock and the next he’s on his back and I’m sprawled across his chest, his arms clasping me to him. I think I might be crying again. I don’t know if it’s tears or sweat, but I’m wrung out. Gloriously empty.

  Albus kisses the top of my head and yanks the covers back over us. If I had a bone left in my body, I might tense as I wait for him to say something. But he doesn’t. He just idly strokes my back as I recover. The silence isn’t exactly uncomfortable, but I can’t get my words out of my head.

  I hate you. I love you.

  Only one of those is true. And it’s not the simpler option.

  I close my eyes. It might not be possible to die from too many orgasms, but I’m pretty sure it is possible to die from humiliation. “Please say something.”

  “You need to eat.”

  That surprises me enough that I lift my head to look at him. “What?”

  “You passed out before we had dinner last night, and you barely had a snack for lunch. Breakfast this morning is non-negotiable.” He studies my face. “You haven’t slept much, either, since you found out what he did.”

  I can feel my face heating with something like guilt. “I think I can be forgiven having a stress response to finding out my fiancé is fucking his secretary.” Not just fucking. Dating. I’d almost forgotten. My stomach twists in knots at the reminder. “For me, that means I don’t sleep much and sometimes I forget to eat. It’ll pass.”

  Albus doesn’t seem the least bit happy with my response. “That’s bullshit. You choose not to take care of yourself.”

  “That’s about enough of that.” I sit up, but I only make it that far before he’s got me pinned to the bed, his big body wedged between my legs. I glare at his throat, refusing to meet his gaze. “I’ll eat breakfast, okay? Let me up.”

  “Miya.” He sounds so severe that I shiver. “Look at me.”

  I don’t want to. I want to squeeze my eyes shut and ignore whatever he’s about to say. I can’t deny him, though. I’ve lost the ability somewhere along the way in the last two days. Slowly, oh so slowly, I meet his gaze. “Happy?”

  “No, I’m not fucking happy. I see what he’s done to you and what you’re doing to yourself in response. Do you think it’s going to hurt him if you hurt yourself?”

  I flinch. “That’s not what I’m aiming for.”

  “You sure about that?” His brows draw together. “You know what goes with sleep loss and lack of food? Things get muddled in your head. You think you’re going to be the teacher those kids need when you’re not taking care of yourself because you’re so busy crying over some guy who didn’t deserve you.”

  Oh, bringing my students into this is a low blow. I can’t fight that argument, because I know he’s right, so I focus on the one thing I do have a response to. “Some guy. You sure don’t have much nice to say about your own fucking son right now.”

  “No, I don’t.” He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. “You can throw him in my face if you want, but it doesn’t change anything.”

  “I might like you being my Daddy, but I already have a father.”

  His expression goes positively forbidding. “Your father might not spank you anymore, but I won’t hesitate to paddle your ass if I think you need it.”

  I’m breathing hard, but I can’t tell if it’s because I’m furious or turned on. “Fuck you, Albus.”

  “There goes that mouth again.” He sits back. I try to push him off, but he’s too gloriously strong. He flips me onto my stomach with ease and drags me to the edge of the mattress. Once again, I try to straighten, and just like he did yesterday morning, he pins me down with a hand at the back of my neck.

  “Don’t you fucking dare!”

  His hand comes down hard on my ass. I barely have a chance to process the sting when he hits my other cheek. I shriek in fury. But the pain gets all tangled up in my head and I’m fighting not to grind against the edge of the mattress as he spanks me again. A fourth time, and my breath is sobbing from my throat.

  Albus massages my ass, which makes things both better and worse. “Someone has to take care of you, baby girl. You obviously can’t be trusted to do it yourself.”

  I fist the comforter and bite my bottom lip hard. I’ll be damned before I beg him to touch me. But I can’t help widening my stand the tiniest bit. A silent question.

  He gives a dark chuckle. “Look at you. You want my fingers inside you and you can’t even bring yourself to ask me. You’re doing a hell of a job of proving my point.”

  “I am exceedingly angry with you right now,” I grind out.

  “I bet.” His thumb starts at the small of my back and traces down to where I wore the plug yesterday. He circles me. “You’ll wear the plug again today.”

  “Albus—”

  His breath ghosts across my smarting flesh, and then he kisses the lower curve of my ass. “You want to be a good girl, don’t you, Miya?”

  I want to tell him to fuck off again, but I like what he’s doing too much to risk him stopping. And, even more, something in me goes soft as he moves to my other cheek, soothing the still-stinging ass. “Yes, Daddy,” I whisper.

  He rises without giving me what I want. “Get ready and meet me downstairs.”

  I straighten awkwardly and stumble into the bathroom without looking at him. I have the most ridiculous urge to cry again, but I can’t even begin to say why. I’ve already come so many times this morning, I don’t know if I can take more even if he was willing.

  My pussy aches. My ass hurts. My fucking heart is a murky mess.

  I take my time getting ready, take even longer in the shower as if I can wash away the very memory of him. It’s an impossible task, even if I wanted to purge the memories. He’s imprinted on my very skin.

  Once I’m dried off, I turn and look at my ass in the mirror. It’s bright red and I can already tell there will be bruises. I should be angry about that, but the knowledge that I’ll wear his marks even after we’re done makes me smile a little. Complicated. This whole thing is so fucking complicated.