My hand slips between her thighs, sliding through heat and slick until I find her clit. Her back arches like she’s been struck by lightning, a broken whimper spilling past her lips as I circle, press, tease—warming her up, winding her tight, getting her ready to take all of me.
I can’t wait. My cock throbs, desperate, ready to bury itself in her.
“Give it to me,” she grits out, her hunger matching mine.
Lining up, I press my forehead to hers, one palm caressing the back of her neck. “You okay, baby girl?”
“Yes.”
“I got you,” I whisper—the same words I said that first night, in the back of an abandoned car.
Just like now.
I thrust deep, and she wails. Tears spill from the pain of our past. Her nails rake my back, legs locked half around my waist like she can’t decide whether to hold on or push me away.
The cramped back seat leaves hardly any room, but I pound her harder, hips a blur, peppering her face with frantic kisses. She rises to meet me, body answering each brutal slam, until it feels like we’re trying to break each other to stay whole.
“Why did you give this up? What did I do?” My voice cracks into the air, guttural, as my cock spears her tight cunt in time with each word.
“I…” Her hand grips my neck, yanking me closer so our eyes clash. Like she might finally speak the truth, her mouth trembles. “I…”
But then she squeezes them shut—shuttingmeout—just as her body writhes into climax.
I still, memorizing it. Every twitch, every gasp, every quiver of her lashes as her pussy clutches me in sharp, erratic bursts. It’s too much.
So I follow her, spilling into her, deep, deeper, wishing to thegodsI could stay here forever.
twenty-nine
With the vaporousintoxication of last night still lingering in my bones, I run my hands through my hair. Trying to pull myself to the present.
The words scrape out of my throat before I can stop them. “I need to, uh…talk.”
Dad’s eyes harden. He already knows the conversation he’s waiting for.
“In my office,” he says.
Mom brushes past as I follow the hallway to the study. “Did you boys almost drown Olivia’s boyfriend on the boat?” she calls out, the outrage of it tacked onto the end of the question like an afterthought.
Ryan tosses his arm over her shoulders, shepherding her toward the kitchen. “He fell in! Slippery deck and the wrong shoes, and clumsiness. Not to mention the beers he had…”
She wags her finger at me and Henry with a death glare, but I’m already moving toward the back hall, satisfied that Olivia and I are now even.
Dad’s office is cold in the way money can make a room feel. I perch on the edge of the camel-leather chair acrossfrom his frosted glass desk while he slides his tablet aside and sinks into the Herman-Miller like a man folding himself into power. He crosses an ankle over the opposite knee and smiles with his body the way generals do before orders are given.
“Sorry for taking your car last night,” I start. “I, uh, needed something.”
He nods once. “My app showed it wound up in aninterestinglocation.”
I swallow hard. “It’s not scratched.”
He waves his hand as if that means nothing.
“I’ve got this all worked out,” I rush to say.
He remains stolid as ever. “Do you?” His gaze sharpens. “Because at the holiday party, you looked like you were coming apart. Your Porsche was torched. And we don’t need a repeat of Crest, do we?” A pause. It’s purposeful. “Thatsituationwith the body cost me a pretty penny. Several promises to government officials to keep you out of prison.”
One of his eyebrows lifts in a challenge.