DON’T STOP
“Come, listen to how hard you make me. And when you’re shaking and dripping—say my name.”
“Darrell—” It broke out of her like a sob, high and raw.
I cursed under my breath, stroking faster, balls tight. “Louder.”
“Darrell!”
That did it.
I came hard, grunting her name right back, thick ropes spilling over my fist and stomach, painting my chest in messy streaks while her own broken moans filled the speaker.
For a long second after, we just breathed heavily, messily, and matched.
Then I murmured, still catching my breath, “On Monday, by 12 at my office.”