I swallowed some guilt at that thought. Trust. I’d gone through her things last night. I’d found—

It was so hard to think about anything at that moment because her mouth was doing indescribably amazing things to me. She sucked, hard, as she dragged her mouth across my cock. Sliding it in deep—deeper than she’d ever done before. So much so that I half-wondered—in my delirious state—if she might trigger her own gag reflex.

I mustered the willpower to open my eyes and watch her. Her eyes were closed in concentration as she continued, sliding her head up and down. Her movements were regulated, concerted. Her dark brows furrowed and her gorgeous, puffy lips sealed around my shaft. The sight of it almost made me come.

But then her eyes flew open and her gaze locked on mine. I couldn’t look away as her head continued bobbing. Burning pleasure was spreading from my groin into my stomach, down my legs. It felt so fucking good. I didn’t want her to stop. I wanted her to keep sucking me until I came. And I wanted to come in her mouth—something I’d never done before.

I wanted it so badly I was half-tempted not to warn her when I felt that familiar twinge just below my navel. “Emilia,” I gasped. “I’m gonna—” but she didn’t stop and my orgasm was cresting that wave of hot pleasure, convulsing over me. My eyes squeezed closed as I spilled into her mouth.

Fuck, it felt so good, so hot and intense it was almost painful. She didn’t pull her mouth away. And I was still coming. And she was still sucking. Oh. My. God. I thought the strength of it would blow my head wide open.

For minutes I was lost in the sensation of convulsing pleasure, but when I was done and her mouth was still sealed around me, I opened my eyes and watched her. I was certain she’d get off the bed and go to the sink to spit. But instead, her mouth still wrapped around me, I watched her throat bob. She swallowed. Everything.

I closed my eyes and threw my head back, so incredibly turned on that I felt everything starting again. Slowly she pulled her mouth away and she would have gotten off the bed, but I stopped her, hooked my arm around her waist to prevent her from leaving.

“That was so goddamn hot. I need to have you again,” I groaned.

She gasped. “You just did.”

“Again. And again. Because I’ll never get enough,” I groaned. “I need you. Here. With me. Please.”

She stilled. “We should talk,” she said.

I took a deep breath and let it go. She was going to tell me about the drugs. Good. It was better that this came from her…that she be the one to recognize that she had a problem.

She bent to kiss me and then got up to use to the bathroom and I laid back, still enjoying that hot afterglow. I glanced at the clock. It was seven on a Tuesday morning. I closed my eyes and was almost completely asleep when she left the bathroom and crawled back into bed beside me.

Now I had to get up, but one thing was certain—when I came back to bed she was getting an orgasm of her own, one way or the other. With that thought, I got up and showered. Maybe she’d drift off to sleep in the meantime. I spent my time in the shower contemplating the most delicious ways to wake her up. By the time I got out, I had a semi just from all the dirty thoughts going through my head. It was stunning, really, that we could be so distant from each other emotionally and yet so in sync sexually that I couldn’t get the thought of her body out of my mind.

And soon, after we talked, we’d take care of the emotional stuff. We’d take care of whatever was happening to her and it would be all right. She’d be back with me and we’d face it together, just as we should have done all along.

I wrapped a towel around my hips and left the bathroom while toweling my hair dry. To my surprise, Emilia was standing beside the bed bent over her bag. She’d pulled practically everything out of it—much as I had done last night. And she was clearly looking for something. I took a deep breath and my stomach dropped. Likely she was looking for one of the prefilled syringes sitting on my desk in front of my computer.

Well, she’d wanted to talk. So here was our chance.

“Did you go through my bag?” she said without looking up.

I hesitated and her fiery gaze met mine. I took a deep breath. “Yes.”

She shook her head. “You are unbelievable,” she said between gritted teeth.

“I’m worried about you. I saw the bruises on your arms and your stomach.”

She paled. “You pulled off my shirt?”

“I saw the bruises on your arms—and the puncture marks. I know damn well what they were so I looked to see if there were bruises on your stomach. And they were everywhere.”