Page 70 of Drowning Erin

"What?" I ask. "I'm not comfortable. They're cutting into my waist."

"Right," he mutters.

I return to the couch and pick up my laptop, laying down so my back is flat, my knees up, feet slightly apart. It makes me think of going to see a gynecologist. But I'm pretty sure it won't make Brendan think of that.

And then I feel his foot skimming the outside of my thong. Skim and retreat. Skim and retreat. I push forward a bit the last time he pulls away, chasing. The next time his foot returns, I release a small huff of air, a slightly desperate noise, and he groans, diving toward me. Before I've even shut my laptop he's pushed the fabric to the side and put his magical tongue to work.

"You like that, tease?" he demands.

Yes. Too much. I’m already close and he just began. After waiting so long, I feel like I’ve earned this. I want it to last, and I know for a fact that it won’t. He adds two fingers and my whole body jolts, my head hanging off the arm of the couch helplessly as I come. I haven't even finished before his pants are down, a condom is on, and he's pushing inside me, knocking the air from my chest.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to stand when I'm done,” he grunts.

And say what you will about Brendan, but he always keeps his promises.

48

Erin

Present

The next afternoon, with 30 minutes to spare, Harper prints the mock-ups.

“You look terrible,” she laughs.

“I feel terrible.” If I had a body scan right now, it would show that I am 90-percent coffee, and yet I still can’t keep my eyes open.

“You should walk in there and forcibly shove these up his ass,” she says.

“That would kind of defeat the purpose of staying up all night.”

She sighs. “Yeah, well, you you shouldn’t have done that either.”

I grab the mock-ups and knock on Timothy’s door. “I’ve got your stuff for that meeting.”

He takes a cursory glance at the pieces and hands them back to me. “The meeting was cancelled, so you’ll have a little time to get these cleaned up. Looks like they need it too.”

He returns to whatever he was doing before. I’m forgotten. The stuff I just spent 24 hours on is forgotten. This is where Olivia and Brendan might turn violent, but I’ve never thrown a punch in my life. I’ve never even pulled someone’s hair.

“I stayed up all night working on this.”

“You wouldn’t have had to stay up all night if you’d gotten it done sooner.”

My voice trembles. “I didn’t know you needed it done until yesterday afternoon.”

“Well, now you have extra time to go over these and refine your work,” he says.

I cross my arms over my chest. I hate him. I really fucking hate him. I do not make less than Olivia’s nanny to stay up all night and put up with this shit.

“My work is about as refined as it’s going to get, Timothy,” I reply. “If you need more refinement, consider giving me a damn raise. In the meantime, I’m going home, and I’m going to bed.”

He calls after me, his voice stern and full of reprimand, and I just keep walking, straight to the chancellor’s office, because he needs to put a face with the work he demands at the last minute all the time.

I’m exhausted, running on nothing but rage at this point. I must look like I’m running on rage too; when I step into his secretary’s office, she appears slightly alarmed.

“Can I help you?” she asks.

I tell her who I am. I add that I’m a former student, and that I know the chancellor from my days on the track team, which is a bit of a stretch. I only met him a few times, and I guarantee he doesn’t remember me.