Xavier’s hands gentled, but my whimper of protest had them tightening again. Rough amusement laced his chuckle.

“You like that, don’t you?” He tugged, bringing my gaze to his. Lust carved grooves beneath his cheekbones and etched lines of tension between his brows. “Fuck, Luna, you look so good on your knees, choking on my cock.”

My thighs clenched at his filthy words. Tiny flutters disrupted my stomach as he held my head and pushed the final inch down my throat. I choked again, his cock so deep that my nose grazed his stomach, and just as little pinpricks danced across my vision, he pulled out until only the tip rested on my tongue.

I managed to suck in a gasp of air before he drove into me again, and again, and again, harder and faster each time, until the brutal rhythm matched the painful pounding of my heart.

The knot of need in my stomach coiled tighter. I was so flushed, I was sure water would steam if it touched my skin, and despite the rawness of my throat, I couldn’t stop one hand from drifting between my legs.

“Not with your hand.” Xavier’s harsh command stopped me a second before I made contact. I let out another whimper of protest, but this time, he was unrelenting. His body shifted, but he didn’t let go of my hair as he nudged his shoe between my legs. He ground the tip against my most sensitive spot, eliciting a muffled yelp.

I was so desperate for more friction I didn’t think. I simply did as he asked, and straddled his shoe. I spread my legs wider, the beautiful pressure and rub of leather against silk and tender, sensitive flesh making me ache all over.

My moans built in intensity as I picked up speed, grinding shamelessly against his shoe while he fucked my mouth.

I didn’t care how obscene this was or whether there were people on the other side of the door; I was too lost in a haze of sensation.

The bumps and ridges of the laces scraped against my swollen clit and sent sharp lightning bolts of pleasure through my body. I couldn’t believe how wet I was; I was dripping all over the floor, like this was the first time I’d ever come close to orgasm.

Still, it wasn’t enough. I wanted, I needed more friction, and I held on to his thigh to steady myself as I sucked and ground harder. His face fucking picked up speed to match mine, and my mind went fuzzy, my hips jerking, my movements frantic as the need built and built and—

The pressure inside me exploded at the same time warm, thick ropes of cum splashed down my throat. Xavier’s loud, guttural groan mixed with my strangled cries as the fuzziness fully blanked into a haze of white.

Shudder after shudder racked my body while I rode out my orgasm mindlessly. Everything was so warm and slick and nice, and when the haze finally cleared and Xavier’s fingers unknotted from my hair, I slumped against his leg, too exhausted to stand.

Strong hands unwound my arms from his thigh and picked me up. Xavier set me on the counter, his movements smooth and fluid as he cleaned me up.

After he finished, he straightened my dress, his eyes gleaming with amusement and lingering desire.

“Well,” he drawled, his voice husky. “If you need another favor, anything at all, I’m right here and willing.”

My laugh melted into a smile when he kissed me.

I’d ruined my dress, underwear, and makeup as well as his shoes and pants, and I didn’t know how we would get out of here without people knowing exactly what we’d been up to, but I didn’t care.

I was too sated and content, and for tonight, at least, none of my worries could touch me.

CHAPTER 33

Sloane

After Saturday, I could add the Valhalla Club bathroom to the list of places I’d never look at the same again (after my office, my kitchen, Xavier’s living room, and well, pretty much every place we’d had sex).

It was a great cap to the night, but blowjobs and orgasms aside, the gala also kicked off step two of Operation Perry Wilson, which officially commenced that Monday.

I had just stepped off the elevator and into my office when a breaking-news alert popped up on my phone.

Soraya engaged in scandalous sex affair with MARRIED influencer?! the headline screamed. It was a rhetorical question.

One click took me to Perry’s blog, which expounded breathlessly on the alleged affair using details my friends had fed into the grapevine: the gifts, the secret weekend getaway in upstate New York, the airplane bathroom blowjob during a brand trip both Soraya and Bryce had participated in over the summer.

It was salacious and dishy and completely untrue, but Perry wasn’t known for his fact-checking. His post was chock-full of allegations without proof.

I smiled. He’d bought the whole story hook, line, and sinker. “Is it true?” Jillian asked breathlessly. She was already at her desk, her coffee mug full and her computer zoomed into a photo of Soraya and Bryce on their brand trip. Perry’s blog branding was splashed across the top of the screen. “Is Soraya really sleeping with Bryce? I totally shipped them together before he got married, but—”

“Jillian.” I fixed her with an arch stare. “Is Soraya our client?”

She sighed. “No.”

“Focus on our clients, please. What’s the status on magazine profile pitches for Ayana?”

After some minor grumbling, Jillian updated me on the pitches. I sent a quick text during her tangent about how much she hated a certain editor.

Your turn

SORAYA:

On it [devil emoji]

Soraya may not be a client, but her publicist and I were friends and we’d come to a mutually beneficial agreement, locked into place by an ironclad NDA.

Like I’d said, I needed an army to take down Perry’s social media accounts, and Soraya happened to have one of the largest, most terrifying fanbases on the internet. They’d once taken down a huge makeup brand’s website for forty-eight hours after their director of marketing said they’d never work with Soraya because her “image” wasn’t the “right fit.”

Luckily for me, Soraya was venturing into music and launching her debut album soon. She wanted a big PR splash, and a sex scandal meant major PR. No such thing as bad publicity and all that. The fearless social media star also wasn’t afraid to go head-to-head with Perry, whom she already hated after he’d invented a nasty nickname for her best friend, another influencer, and driven the poor girl into rehab.

Soraya was one of the very few public figures he’d been cautious about attacking directly due to her fans. However, thanks to a few pushes from me, he’d finally caved when the juiciness of the story seemed to outweigh his sense of self-preservation.

I entered my private office, my steps lighter than they’d been in weeks.

Bryce knew the story was coming too. I wouldn’t drag an innocent into my schemes without their knowledge, but he and his wife had been okay with the plan. The furor over their wedding had died down, and they were interested in keeping the public’s attention on their relationship.

After Soraya posts her denial video later (accompanied by photos and receipts showing her in Europe during her alleged upstate getaway with Bryce), it was only a matter of time before her followers ripped Perry apart.

Taking Perry down wouldn’t solve my Pen dilemma, but it gave me a semblance of control, which I desperately needed. Between dating Xavier and Perry’s sabotage, my life had spun out of control after Spain.

I turned on my computer and resisted the urge to check the updates Xavier had given me about Pen again. Things could’ve changed after he’d handed me the files, but I hoped that the upcoming holidays meant George and Caroline wouldn’t do anything too rash. They kept Pen out of the spotlight as much as possible, but they’d still get questions if their youngest daughter was mysteriously shipped abroad right before Christmas.

The only force stronger than their desire to spite me was their desire to keep up appearances. That meant I had until the New Year to figure out a solution because never seeing Pen again was not an option.

I spent the morning and better part of the afternoon taking calls and closing email chains before the holidays. I was reviewing the Sports World interview with Asher when the door flew open.

I lifted my head, expecting to see Jillian or maybe Xavier. Shock rippled through me when I saw my sister’s slim form instead.

“You bitch.”

My eyebrows winged up at her scathing greeting. Georgia was usually subtler than that.