Page 66 of All Her Broken Pieces

When I enter the apartment,I can hear Bridget speaking. She must still be in work meetings. It takes me a few minutes to put away the leftovers I brought over from the restaurant, and I’m desperate to get a shower after a small incident in the kitchen left me feeling rank.

Knocking quietly, I gingerly poke my head around the door and make eye contact with Bridget as she waves me in, keeping her arm off camera. She’s sitting on the bed wearing a blazer on top and her silky sleep shorts on bottom. Her hair is pinned up in a neat bun, and she speaks about finances with stoic professionalism. This has been her work-from-home wardrobe since she started back a few weeks ago, and it makes me grin every time I see her in it. She’s so fucking beautiful, and sometimes she has no idea how she affects me.

“Thank you, gentlemen. I’ll get those projections to you by the end of day, but I think this will be a fruitful partnership.”

Fuck, work boss Bridget is hot. She closes her laptop and flashes me a small smile. “I take it everything went well?” I ask as she pats the spot on the bed next to her.

I’m beside the bed in a few strides before her nose wrinkles. “Why do you smell like that?”

“Sorry, I wanted to hop in the shower first, but I didn’t want to interrupt your meeting. Nyomi thought it would be funny to fill my water bottle with pickle juice, but she must have been in a hurry not to get caught because she didn’t screw the lid on all the way, and when I threw my head back to rehydrate, I got a pickle juice shower. It was right before rush hit, and I couldn’t change.”

“Oh fuck, that’s hilarious.”

“Glad you find my misfortune so amusing.” I roll my eyes. “Do you have more meetings? Cool if I take a quick shower?”

“I’m good. I was going to grab some water before I send over those projections and then log off for the day.”

“I can grab it for you,” I offer.

She shoots me a look, and I can’t help but stare at her bottom lip. When she’s annoyed, her bottom lip juts out a little more than normal, and it looks so fucking kissable.

“It’s been like five weeks since I had surgery. I’m completely fine at this point. You don’t need to keep waiting on me hand and foot.”

My chest tightens whenever she reminds me that our living situation is temporary. What happens after my time here is up? What will I do if I can’t see her every day, or if she starts pulling back or pushing me away?

Sensing my mood, she shifts tactics. “Water would be great, thanks.”

Leaning down, I kiss her head before making my way to the kitchen. After grabbing her water, I rifle through the pantry, deciding what to make for dinner. When I complete the mental checklist of everything I need, I return to her bedroom, cup in hand.

I set it down with a flourish as I say, “Your water, m’lady,” before bowing to the side of the bed.

The laughter that follows warms a place in me nothing else has touched. I live to make this woman laugh, to see her happy.

“Get up,” she giggles at my antics.

“Yes, my queen,” I tease as I stand. “Now, if you don’t require anything else, I shall retire to the washing closet to scrub the smell of brine from my skin.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But you like it.”

The sound of her laughter follows me as I walk to the bathroom and disrobe. Once the water temperature is perfect, I step into the shower, letting the cascading warmth ease the tension from my muscles as I wash my hair and body. As I scrub away the stench of my day, my hand wanders lower, fisting my cock that’s been hard since the sound of Bridget’s laugh awakened it.

I brace a hand against the tile as I pump my hand up and down in hard strokes. Gathering the pre-cum at the tip, I rub it over the head of my cock as I lean my forehead against the shower wall and let out a small groan.

“Mind if I join you?”

I’m startled at the sound of Bridget’s voice and the rush of cool air that hits me as she enters the shower, closing the glass door behind her.

Her naked body is a fucking masterpiece, and I reach out to run my hand over the curves of her waist and breasts.

“What is happening right now?” I grit out as her hand closes around my length and squeezes in long, twisting strokes.

She drops to her knees, but my hand catches her arm, pulling her up before she can continue. “We can’t… not cleared… six weeks…” I rasp as her hand continues pumping my length.

“My hospital paperwork didn’t mention anything about not sucking dick,” she retorts. “And besides, how else am I supposed to repay my loyal subject?”

I’m going to worship this woman the minute I’m allowed.

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