Griffin’s head falls back and he sighs so loudly it makes me walls quiver.

When his head drops again, he grabs my arm and pulls me up. I stop, allowing him to drag me up, bringing us chest-to-chest.

He lifts my hips, and as I get into a wide squat, he eases me on top of his cock. Each hard, savory inch tips me closer and closer to the edge.

I balance myself when he’s all in, my hands on his shoulders.

Nostrils flared, jaw locked, he cups my ass and whispers, “Fuck me, Angel.”

And I do. I ride Griffin so hard and so fast I feel like I’m losing myself. Each fill of his thickness, each hit against my g-spot, pulls me closer and closer and, goodness, I can’t help myself.

“You like how my cock feels inside of you, Angelina? Huh?” He leans forward, holding me closer as if he never wants to let go.

“Yes,” I pant, bouncing on his cock, circling my hips, soaking every inch.

“It’s exactly what you dreamed of, right?” He’s breathing heavy, voice husky and deep. “I know it is ‘cause this pussy—fuck, Angel, this pussy is everything I’ve dreamed of and so much more.”

Damn it. I swear he always knows what to say to drive me right to the edge.

I straddle his lap, and he squeezes my ass in his large hands, spanking me with each bounce.

Each spank is encouragement for me. Each dirty little mark on my skin not only means I am about to climax, but that he is too.

“You feel so fucking good around me.” He sinks his teeth into my chin. It’s not painful or light. It’s just the right amount to provide pleasure.

His mouth moves to the crook of my neck, and one hand goes around my waist, tugging me close. He curses beneath his breath, and when he unleashes a purely satisfied moan, I cry to the rooftop, my indulgence echoing past the balcony walls.

I spasm on top of him, arms locked around his neck, my fingernails digging into his skin. Griffin clings to me, panting raggedly. His sweat smells sweet, and my walls clench with each pulse he spurts inside me.

“Fuck, Angelina,” he grumbles.

“What?” I ask, laughing, panting.

“I just… I don’t even know what to say right now.”

“You’re silly,” I murmur.

“And you are amazing.”

I lift up, battling a smile as I lay beside him. He flops back, blowing out a heavy breath and then pulls me against him.

Silence cascades down on us like the showers outside and for the first time it’s not awkward.

We are… satisfied.

Smiles are on both of our faces, and when he kisses me I feel somewhat… whole.

Grasping my chin, Griffin’s head tilts down and he kisses my lips. It’s sweet, savory, and makes me clench all over again.

“You are much naughtier than I thought you’d be, Mr. Boyd,” I tease.

He chuckles, his hand going down to my hip. Surveying the span of my body, he murmurs, “I don’t think you have much room to talk, Miss Clark.”

“I am a good girl.”

“An angel,” he jokes, and I grin, snuggling into his broad chest.

God, why do I fall even harder when he uses that name on me?

If only he knew what I was really about. I’m certain then that he wouldn’t call me his Angel.

Someone knocks on the door, and a light voice calls behind it, stirring me out of my sleep.

“Housekeeping!” the voice calls. I groggily look at Griffin. He’s still asleep, knocked the hell out. Another knock. “Housekeeping?”

“Uh… no! Not right now… I don’t think.”

There is no response, but I do hear the wheels of her cart roll by. Sighing, I flop back down and throw my forearm over my forehead. Griffin is breathing steadily, and when I open my eyes again, an urge hits me.

I face his large body, the one arm above his head, the other sprawled out. His hair is a mess, so beautiful it would seem wrong to touch it. But I do anyway, and it’s silky soft, just like I remember it to be from last night.

I look down, and when I see something long and hard prodding through the sheets, my lips twitch. He’s still sound asleep, but I wonder if he’ll feel me.

Lifting the sheets, I let my hand travel down his set of abs and to the rock between his legs. I massage his balls, and he gets even harder. I’m not sure how that is possible but he does, so I don’t stop.

I start a stroke along his length, and for some reason the way he murmurs in his sleep and sort of smiles, brings me pleasure, too.

So I lean into him a little further, stroking slowly, smoothly, until finally he turns from his side to his back. His eyes are still closed, but his lips part, and he groans, shuddering when I run my thumb over his tip.

I decide to fulfill the moment. Without stopping my strokes, I guide my body beneath the sheets, facing his cock.

I lower my stroking hand to his balls and rub them gently, carefully, and as I do, I bring his cock into my mouth. I explore him with my tongue, pulling my hair to one side, focusing on one thing: getting him to release again.

He twitches, and his hand meets at the back of my head. His eyes are squeezed tight, and then he runs his teeth across his bottom lip before sinking them into it.

All of him is deep down my throat, and he pushes down, heightening my arousal. He starts to speak… whispering. I’m not sure what he’s saying at first, but then it becomes clear.

“Ahh, yes,” Griffin groans, and my lips curve around his member. “Fuck yes. That feels so fucking good, Colette.”

My gaze jerks up, and my pleasing comes to a rapid halt. The center of my chest squeezes tight, and I frown while looking up at him. His eyes are still closed, face relaxed.

I swallow thickly, pulling away and sitting up straight. I shouldn’t be offended by this, should I? His wife’s name is a constant on his lips and he’s just gotten acquainted with mine.

But for some reason it still bothers me… to know that he still expects her to please him. To feel somewhat forgotten even though we’d just indulged in fantasies we never thought would happen—fantasies that never should have occurred.

I can’t let him see that I’m upset or bothered, so I take advantage of his drowsiness and climb out of the bed, slipping into my maxi dress that’s puddled by the ottoman and then sliding into my ballerina flats.

I grab my room key card and walk to the door, slightly defeated as I pull it open.

I hear a shift behind me, rustling of the sheets as he moves. “Hey,” Griffin calls before I can disappear.

“Yeah?” I keep my voice as light as possible as I peer over my shoulder.

He turns a bit, his voice thick with sleep and eyes squinty as he asks, “Where you going?”

“My room to shower. Clean up a bit.”

“You can shower here. I don’t mind.” He puts on a genuine smile. I would fall for it if he hadn’t just… well, you know.

I shrug. “Nah, it’s okay, Griffin. Don’t want to overbook my stay.”

He laughs. “It’s no problem, Angel. Really.”

That name now makes my skin feel dry and itchy. My throat thickens with unwanted emotions, but I block it out, squeezing the door handle.

“You know,” I turn a fraction of the way, holding up a swift finger and shaking my head. “It’s probably best if you don’t call me that, Griffin… Okay?”

His face yields on the amusement, his brows stitching together as his eyes roam the proximity of my body. He’s trying to figure me out… but I won’t let him get that far.

I force a smile and loosen my grip on the door handle. “I’ll see you later.”

He’s hesitant, but I’m out of the door that slowly shuts behind me when he says, “Okay… Angelina.”

He’s confused, and mildly upset.

Oh well. This is for the best. I can’t allow myself to get too carried away with him. After all, Griffin Boyd is only my associate, not my lover.