Daylight debauchery.
Connor Quinn didn’t carry Moira Sloan to the bedroom, instead taking her directly to the couch.
She knelt, trembling and swaying gently.
Connor’s large hands gripped her slender waist, leaving imprints of his fingers.
Just as he sensed Moira was about to climax, Connor leaned in and kissed her. His lips brushed against her ear as he let out a low laugh. "So soon?"
Moira trembled, her polished nails digging into Connor’s arm.
She was alluring and vulnerable, slick with sweat and utterly speechless.
Connor added, "But I’m just getting started."
Moira was left speechless.
For a mont, Moira felt like a blow-up doll.
One for Connor to mold and shape however he pleased.
And the thing was, she couldn’t fight back.
Her body was too sensitive, too pliant. A pleasurable current shot through her, reaching every inch of her body.
Afterward, Connor held her as he bathed her, murmuring enticingly in her ear, "Moira, this is good. I don’t want anything more. I won’t force you. Just don’t avoid ."
Moira huffed, her tone playfully indignant. "I’m not avoiding you."
"Mm-hm," Connor said.
After erging from the bathroom, Moira rested for a while before hopping out of bed. She selected a long dress from the wardrobe, then returned to the bathroom to do her makeup.
Her eyes flickered toward the couch as she passed it.
’Tsk. I can’t bear to look.’
After finishing her makeup, Moira went to the guest bedroom to find Connor.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d be gone this ti and needed him to help look after Jean Hale in her absence.
Moira stood in the doorway, about to speak, when she saw Connor changing his pants.
He was standing, slightly bent over, his muscles well-defined.
Moira was only human; she appreciated a fine view.
Honestly, she really liked Connor’s looks and physique.
He wasn’t like any of the other n in her life.
’How to describe it?’
’He had a certain resilience.’
’The kind you could sink your teeth into and never get tired of; he wasn’t cloying, but had real bite.’
Moira was staring, lost in thought, when Connor suddenly turned.
Their eyes t. Connor’s brows furrowed slightly.
Seeing this, Moira strode forward and hugged him.
’Things were different now.’
’In the past, it was understandable for him to be unhappy when she "spied" on him.’
’But now that they were like this, now that he was all over her, what right did he have to be upset?’
"Connor."
Moira’s voice was soft and sweet.
Connor instinctively wrapped his arms around her. "Hm?"
Moira complained playfully, "You’re not very nice to , you know."
’Talk about a baseless accusation.’
’This was a pri example.’
Connor was silent, so Moira pressed on. "You’re always pulling a long face around . I was just looking at you for a second, and you give that look."
"I’m not," Connor said in his low voice. "I’m just not used to smiling."
Moira looked up at him, her eyes glittering with playful mischief. "When I get back, how about you strip for ?"
Connor lowered his gaze and raised an eyebrow. "Hm?"
Her breath was a sweet fragrance as she rose onto her tiptoes to brush his lips, like a Siren intent on stealing his very essence. "Just like last ti in the car."
He rembered. That was the ti they were supposed to go their separate ways. He’d laid a trap for her, watching her grow desperate with need, waiting for her to take the bait.
Connor’s Adam’s apple bobbed. "Okay."
Moira laughed, completely satisfied.
Half an hour later, Moira was on her way to the airport.
Connor drove her. Moira dozed for most of the ride, only opening her eyes languidly when they arrived at the airport.
Before getting out of the car, Moira leaned over and kissed Connor’s thin lips.
"Thanks, Boss Quinn."
Connor looked down at her. "Is this my fare?"
"Yep," Moira said.
With that, Moira playfully scratched under his chin, like she was petting a cat. "Happy now?"
His expression was blank. "I’m happy."
Moira raised an eyebrow. "This is your ’happy’ face?"
Connor’s gaze darkened. He tried to make his thin lips curve into a smile, but after a few failed attempts, Moira was the one who started laughing. "Okay, fine. I won’t force you, my cold, cool Boss Quinn."
A mont later, Moira got out of the car.
After watching her walk into the airport, Connor took out his phone and made a call.
Once the call connected, Connor spoke, his voice grim. "Moira Sloan is heading to Atheria. I need you to have soone watch her."
It was Miles Murray on the other end. "Can’t bear to let her out of your sight?" he teased. "Why didn’t you just co with her?"
Connor said, "I’ve been sticking too close lately. I’m worried she’ll get suspicious."
Every ti she went to Atheria, he just happened to be on a "business trip."
’It’s too much of a coincidence.’
’Once or twice might fly, but any more and she’ll know. Moira’s no fool.’
Miles chuckled. "I’m almost looking forward to you getting found out. Tell , with a personality like Moira’s, do you think she’ll still want anything to do with you then?"
Connor rolled down the window to light a cigarette, under no illusions. "No."
Miles asked playfully, "So what’s your plan?"
Connor took a drag from his cigarette. "Lately, we’ve been averaging three tis a week," he said slowly.
Miles didn’t get it. "What?"
Connor stated, "And we’ve never used any protection."
Miles, "Fuck!"
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