Page 48 of A is for Aftercare

“You’re on your knees now.”

He grins. “Yes, but you’re all the way over there.”

“Aye, I am. I didn’t come up here to fuck you, Archie.”

He dips his chin, disappointment dulling his smile. “Whydidyou come up here, Sir?”

I haven't got a good answer to that question. I wanted to watch him sleep, but I don't intend to say that out loud.

“Did you have a good writing day?” he asks.

“No, it was fucking shit.”

“I’m sorry.”

I shrug. “It happens.”

“Is there anything I can do to help the words flow?”

There are lots of things I can think of, most of which involve Archie on his knees or tied to my bed.

“Not today.”

“Don’t you want me, Sir?”

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “More than anything, Archie. But your brother and niece need you more than I do today. Get dressed, go home, and be here on time tomorrow.”

“On time?”

I smile slowly. “Early.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I stride over to the bed, cup his chin in my hand, and kiss him softly. It's the most chaste kiss we've ever shared, and it's far from enough. I turn and leave before I change my mind and make him mine.

13

Archie

Friday starts in the same way as nearly every other day this week—me, on my knees in the kitchen, giving Hamish a blow job. I love his cock. Seriously. The man has a beautiful cock. I'm not so much a fan of flavoured condoms, but I'm willing to put up with the rubber taste to please him. When we're done, I make him coffee, and we go through to his office to get on with the day's work. As promised, he's sent me what he's written on his new novel so far. I get any urgent tasks out of the way first, make him a fresh coffee, and then settle down to read.

"Fucking hell, this is great," I say, probably a little too loudly as I reach the end. "And I need more." I swing my chair around to face Hamish. I don't like that our desks are positioned so we sit with our backs towards each other all day.

He swivels his chair around too. “You don’t have to sugar-coat it just because we’re fucking.”

I arch an eyebrow. It’s the first time he’s talked about the fact that we’re having sex during work hours.

“I’m not. It’s amazing. I can tell you enjoyed writing this time.”

Hamish curls his lip into an impatient expression. “How?”

"The first version felt flat. It was clear you were plonking words on the page without really caring about them. But this draft zings. It's fast-paced, and it packs one hell of an emotional punch. I think it might be one of the best things you've ever written."

He shakes his head.

“I’ve readeverythingyou’ve written, remember?”

“Not everything,” he mumbles under his breath.