What followed was a symphony of confessions, gasps, and curse words. The couch groaned beneath them. Her body arched, shivered, surrendered and then surged again. He fucked every inch of her, every corner of her.
Time didn't matter.
When they finally collapsed, tangled in each other, hearts racing, Queen pressed her face into his chest and whispered, "So… still not moving in?"
Drake laughed. "Everything is a business transaction with you."
"Drake, come on! People are going to talk. The board will suspect something fishy," Queen said as she tugged the strap of her bra over her shoulder.
"I will compromise," he said finally. "I'll find a better house. Something classy. I've got some money saved up. I'll call Victor in the morning, tell him to find something befitting the Queen."
It wasn't what she wanted to hear. Her lips twisted into a pout. "But my condo…" she trailed off, half hoping he'd change his mind.
