Rowan arrived at 7:45 a.m. the following Monday.
Three days since the under-desk session, and he still tasted her on the back of his tongue every time he swallowed.
He’d jerked off twice last night thinking about the way her thighs had clamped his ears while she came—quiet, controlled, like she was signing off on a deal instead of riding his face.
He hated how much he wanted more.
He hated even more that he’d already bought the toy she’d demanded.

Small. Discreet.
A black silicone plug, tapered, with a flared base and a thin, flexible neck.
Remote-controlled via Bluetooth.
He’d chosen the mid-size one—ambitious, stupid, cocky as ever.
It sat heavy in the pocket of his slacks now, wrapped in tissue so no one in the elevator would notice the outline.