I woke up in my own bed, my head pounding like a madness, my throat dry, my body aching in interesting ways. I stretch out against the bed, hissing from the aches as I slowly recognize where exactly was aching. My eyes open, eyebrows scrunched as I try and remember why my fanny was oh so deliciously complaining almost as much as my head, but instead I see a rogue glass of orange juice and a bottle of water beside my bed. I pull myself to a sit and reach for the juice hoping it'll calm the inferno in my throat, my ass still a bit sore thanks to Luca.

Luca.

I almost choke on the juice as the very visceral image of Luc, naked, on top of me, his hand on my neck as he fucks me, his dark desirous gaze on me as I grip on the carpet.

"Tell me you like this mongrad" he huskily demands

"Fuck yes!" I whisper back, my voice cracked with ecstasy

"Yes who?" he growls, his thumb propping my chin up so our gazes stay locked on each other

"Yes daddy" I cry trembling from the pleasure

Wait a bloody second! Wait for me! I knew that carpet! Why was I having a nightmare about calling Luca daddy in the office? Well, fist of all I'd have to be asleep to be having a nightmare, unless I was awake in my dream! That had to be it! I was awake in my dream and it was clearly turning into a nightmare!

I chug the juice like it was whisky and then pull the covers off, realizing I was wearing a lounge wear set I had never been in the habit of wearing, especially not as pajamas. This was clearly more proof that I was awake in a dream. Why else would I have put on the tangerine off shoulder crop top and shorts set to go to bed? Not even at my drunkest would I have done something this daft. Especially if I was proper sloshed I wouldn't wear this, I'd slip my clothes off and sleep in the buff.

Ok. So I was awake in a nightmare, and this nightmare was trying to insist that I had fucked Luca last night. This was clearly a joke by my subconscious, or maybe Luna had cursed me for choosing my career over her and now I was stuck here in this realm imagining her worst nightmare come true. All I needed to do was drink the entire bottle of water and remind myself of all the reasons Lucas and I would never fuck.

I would never fuck Lucas because I have standards and I don't want whatever diseases he has and I would rather chew denim and flash complete strangers my boobs in the tube than be one of his sex slaves. Lucas would never fuck me because I was the furthest thing from his sex slaves! I didn't have at least three instagram photos in a field of flowers looking sad and pouting with a flower crown on, I wasn't white or nostalgic for the racism of the 60s or a brunette with blue eyes, I couldn't smoky eye or wing liner my eyes to save my life and hell would freeze over before you caught me looking like I'd been attacked by an eagle for trying to kidnap its young and traffic them in my hair.

Lucas Rowland, earl of Whitlam, brother to Countess Carlen Rowland-Macleod, CEO of The Arc firm, Best friend to some prince who'd lost his memory, owner of several luxury sports cars and what he considered to be several fine lovers, would never in his entire life fuck me... and I Funke Obatunde daughter of the neurosurgeon Folarin Obatunde, an architect by trade, an exgirlfriend by sheer unfortunate circumstance would not have opened my legs for Lucas. I did not have the sket gene in me, and therefore there was no way, factually speaking that I could have participated in sket behaviour.

Can you imagine, me? Screaming and moaning Luca's name? In the office of all places?

"You like this mongran? You like me all the way inside you?" He growls, nibbling on my ear while I'm pressed against the wall, his thick cock pistons in and out of me in a maddening flurry

"Yes! Luca yes!" I moan digging my trembling nails into his butt to push him deeper

"You like when I devour you..." he gruffly states as things, worlds, joys I didn't know I had stored up inside, threaten to explode around me

"Yes daddy!" I scream, grabbing onto him with all in me

"So fucking delicious..." He growls into my ear, not letting his pace up at all as he starts speaking a completely different language

Mxm, allow it. That was unrealistic, I would never say anything like that, especially not to Lucas Roland! Me? Suddenly a screamer? I was a moaner at best. AT BEST! Bollocks!

I walk through my loft, looking for other signs that I was stuck in a nightmare realm thanks to Luna's juju. I don't find any sign from my phone or email, that Lucas and I had... mashed up last night. I do find an email from Tosh saying they've signed the contract and will messenger it to The Arc. I stare, for perhaps a long time at Lucas' email address, waiting for him to reply. Part of me expects him to say something, to say "Thanks Tosh, knew we could count on you" and then somehow add that we most definitely did not have sex last night and I was bonkers for even thinking we did.

I pour myself a bath, make some tea, think up reasons I'd even think about having sex with Lucas of all people. I was bare desperate I googled it, just looked up "Why I am thinking about fucking my boss who I do not like." and then I'd ended up watching a philosophy channel on YouTube explaining that it was somehow completely normal

Ok, so clearly my subconscious was very anxious about having my own firm and I was fucking Lucas in this nightmare because he had his own firm. That must be it right? Couldn't be any other possible reason I was trying to convince myself he'd spread me out like a rotisserie chicken on my own work desk. That must've been why it happened at work too.

Somewhat relieved by my new discovery of what happened, I pull myself together and get ready for work, promising myself that if anything had happened I could just ask him, or wait for him to say something. He hadn't replied to Tosh and Harrigan anyway and I was going to do some work on the interior finish palettes instead of driving myself bonkers with theories here at home.

I get to the office, nervous and calm at the same time because I'm sure there is a perfectly good explanation for... everything. I am relieved and disappointed when Harry tells me the boss isn't in, and I face quite a fright when I find that my desk was not at its neatest.

"Rough meeting with the Hardy Boys last night?" Harry wonders casually, seeing the state of my desk

I was trying to push away the image of me lain on this desk like deli meat with Lucas eating out my snatch.

"It's always a rough meeting with them." Harry answers himself as I sigh

Was anyone going to save me from this frightful reality? Had Luna somehow planted the idea so deep into my head that I'd actually lost my entire mind last night and fucked my boss? How had it happened? The entire point of working for him was because there was no bloody way in hell something like this could have happened! This had to be some kind of...trick! I was hallucinating! I was suffering alcohol poisoning and this was a bloody side effects! I even call up Bea, Tosh's secretary and ask about the scotch.

She's kind enough to tattle on the brand and says they have theirs infused with saffron and cacao nibs. Infused with aphrodisiacs! The right bastards! I try and push the anxiety attack away, avoiding the wall as if he still had me pinned to it while he fucked me. This had to be some kind of world record! Had there been a single employer of mine that I had not slept with? Was this a disease? Why did I do it? Why did he?

I was sloshed last night, sort of, but he'd not drunk one bit! There was no way an absolutely sober Lucas Roland had fucked me! None! No, I'd clearly lost my mind. What would he even... gain from it? I wasn't with Luna anymore... and now...now she probably wouldn't take me back! Was that his goal? Bollocks!