DAMIEN'S POV
Damien made it home, poured three fingers of scotch, and stood in his study staring at nothing.
He was still hard. Had been hard the entire drive home. Still rock-hard now, hours later, his body demanding relief he refused to give it.
Because if he touched himself, he'd think about her. About how she'd felt on his lap, how she'd tasted, how her body had clenched around his fingers.
And thinking about it would only make the craving worse.
He'd lasted one month without touching her. One month of cold distance and professional boundaries.
And now that he'd broken that control....now that he'd tasted her again, claimed her again....he couldn't think about anything else.
It had been two sessions. Two encounters in one day. And already he was planning the next.
Tomorrow, he'd touch her again. Maybe in the morning, before anyone arrived. Or during lunch, locked in his office. Or after hours, when the building was empty and he could take his time.
