The vault counter sat at twelve of twelve in the corner of my vision, glowing gold and smug about it. Naomi stayed in my lap after she finished, her forehead pressed to mine and her breath coming out in shaky little puffs that tasted of green tea.
Her thighs still trembled against my hips. Her wet skirt had ridden up so high that it had stopped being a skirt and started being a belt with ambitions.
"You're still hard," Naomi whispered against my mouth, and she rolled her hips once to prove her point.
"I'm aware of my own anatomy, thank you, Love."
"Belle said lunch ends at twelve forty." Her pink eyes dropped to the clock on my nightstand and came back up to my face, dark at the centers. "That gives us eighteen minutes, and I'm a fast learner."
