This was as new for Trina as most things with Spencer, and wow she liked it. The swipe of his tongue between her legs. The way he licked along her walls. And then when he moved up to suck on her clit...

She raised her butt off the bed to get closer. He moaned and it vibrated through her skin. The sensation of his lips wrapped around her sex was so far from fingers, it wasn’t in the same universe.

Her head grew lighter with each gasp of pleasure. Would it drift away if he kept going? She was vaguely aware her throat was hoarse, but most of her focus was on his touch. He drove his fingers inside her again, and the extra contact pushed her over an edge she didn’t realize she was on.

Trina knotted her fingers in his hair as she came, holding him in place and grinding into his face. She collapsed back on the bed as climax ebbed.

He kissed up her body, over her stomach and chest, spending a moment on each breast, before finally reaching her mouth.

Her flavor on his lips was better than on his fingers. She kissed him hungrily, unable to get close enough. “Your shirt is in the way.” She tugged at the clothing.

He obliged her by tugging it over his head, then crushed his mouth to hers again.

She fumbled with his belt, not at a good angle to undo it.

Spencer pushed her hands out of the way, and shed his pants and boxers. “I’d tease you about being impatient, but me too,” he said. He fisted his cock and teased her entrance.

“No condom,” she said. “I want to feel you.”

He rested a hand by the side of her head, and ducked in for a kiss. “Fuck, you’re perfect. I swear.”

When he plunged inside her, spreading her open, she lost any reply she might have.

The drawn-out play was gone. He pounded hard and fast. The intensity resummoned the floaty feeling in her head.

She slid toward orgasm quickly, surprised as it overtook her. She fisted the blanket, needing something to ground her. The slap of skin on skin stole her thoughts.

Trina clenched around him. His thickness drew out her climax.

Spencer’s grunts and the way he gripped her thighs told her he was close. He spilled inside her when he came, but didn’t stop pounding. He pushed until a final shudder ran through him, then slowed to a stop.

“You’re wrong.” Her throat was rough. Did she really scream? Maybe. She didn’t remember.

“About what?” He dropped onto the bed next to her, lying on his back.

“This isn’t perfect. It’s better than that.”

He tugged her close and wrapped her in a hug. “You won’t get any argument from me there.”

****

TRINA LAY IN BED WITH her head on Spencer’s chest, listening to the beat of his heart. It was nice waking up like this. She wanted to do it more often. The promise of every day sounded better, the longer she thought about it.

“You probably need to go to work.” She didn’t move, despite the fact that the clock was creeping up toward eight in the morning.

He trailed his fingers through her hair. “At some point. Until the company learns to run itself.”

“I think they call that retirement.”

“I should do that then”—each time he spoke, his words rumbled through her cheek—“if retirement is code for staying in bed all day, enjoying you.”

“That would get old after a while.” She liked the thought, though. It sounded like the perfect way to pass the time.

“So will we. Everything and everyone gets old. Circle of life, and all that.”

She laughed. That happened a lot with Spencer. “Good point. Does that mean you’re calling in today?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

Her phone rang, and she groaned.

“Go answer. Tell them you can’t talk long; you’re about to get laid.”

She pushed into a sitting position. “Is that a promise?”

“Go see who’s calling.” He kissed her fingertips, then let her go.

She crossed the room, aware his gaze followed her naked form until she stepped into the living room. She found her phone on the coffee table, where she’d left it when Spencer stopped by yesterday. The ringing had stopped, but there was a voicemail.

Trina played the message.

“Hi, Trina. This is Cynthia Tremaine. I received your resume for the Network Administrator position I have available, and I’d like to talk to you. Give me a call back when you have a minute.”

Giddiness rippled inside. Trina grabbed the closest shirt she could find and tugged it over her head. Wandering through her apartment nude was one thing, but calling someone back about a job made the nakedness feel awkward, for some reason.

As she dialed, she wandered back into the bedroom. Spencer whistled when he saw her. “You wear that so much better than I do,” he said.

She was about to retort, when the line clicked. “This is Cynthia,” a pleasant voice said in her ear.

“Hi. This is Trina, returning your call.”

“Trina, hey. Thanks for getting back to me so fast.” Cynthia sounded genuinely happy to hear from her.

It was a nice change of pace from slogging her way through job postings that didn’t lead anywhere and recruiters who wouldn’t return her call.

Spencer watched her, silent.

She perched on the edge of the bed, and for the next forty-five minutes, she and Cynthia chatted about the job, the company, and Trina’s qualifications.

Cynthia ran a start-up that offered personalized dating matches for clients, and up until now maintained her own hardware. The business was growing, though, and she was spread thinner, so she wanted someone to run her network.

She sounded impressed with each of Trina’s answers to her questions, and nervous when she said the salary wasn’t as high as market value. Not yet.

“But as I grow and you make the position yours, the salary will increase to match. And I’m offering profit sharing.”

“I could handle that.” Trina liked the idea of getting in on the ground floor, especially since this woman was talking about giving her control, despite her limited experience.

As they talked, Spencer got up and moved around the apartment. Trina heard water running and smelled bacon cooking, but she focused on the conversation.

“I’ll be honest—I really like what I’m hearing,” Cynthia said. “When can I get you in here for a face-to-face?”

“Whenever you want me there.” Trina winced. Did that sound desperate?

Cynthia’s laugh said it was okay. They arranged a time that afternoon, and Trina disconnected.

She found Spencer in the kitchen, two plates of breakfast on the table. He wore jeans but no shirt, and he looked incredible.

“A girl could get used to being spoiled like this.” She kissed him.

He held out her chair, and pushed it in as she sat. “As you should.” He poured her coffee, then sat across from her. “Did you get the job?”

“Not yet. But it sounds promising. Are you going to work?”

He gave a weak cough. “Called in sick. I have to keep you distracted between now and your interview, so you don’t get too nervous.”

“Very thoughtful of you.”

“I know.”

She leaned across the table for another kiss. This was addictive in the best possible way, and she never wanted to give it up. Whatever happened next, she didn’t want to do it without Spencer. And she wouldn’t have to. It was better than a fairytale, because it was real, and it was theirs.