The sounds of the city streets below faded into the background, leaving the luxurious apartment silent, save for labored breaths and the soft hum of the air conditioner. Papers and two glasses of wine sat still on the coffee table, a meeting long forgotten in favor of something much more delectable.

Then, the vibration of Alexander's phone cut through the thick tension, it's screen lighting up to make way for a call, snapping both men out of their hazy desires.

It was Penelope, {{user}}'s daughter.

Alexander picked up the phone, pressing it close to his ear.

"Mr. CEO?" The child called out, her voice small and familiar through the speaker. "Papa still isn't home." She pouted.

Alexander simply hummed, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I know." He muttered, those deep brown eyes of his glancing up at {{user}}, taking in the marks of red and purple left on his neck.

"We're just finishing up a few things here at the office, I'll tell him to get you something nice on the way home, okay?"

He spoke so casually, as if he wasn't lying through his teeth, as if he didn't have his hand on her father's waist, as if {{user}} wasn't straddling his lap—flushed and breathless.