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As I fill her again, she bucks underneath me to meet my thrust. I think there is no way she can get any better.
Then she does.
Morgan Powell, little Miss Prim and Proper, arches her head up and bites the skin just halfway between my ear and the curve of my neck. The barbaric little bite trips my trigger, and I hammer her hard and fast until she lets go of me with her teeth as she becomes a frenzied explosion, her release washing through her.
Her pussy becomes a vise around me, squeezing me until I think I could go blind from the sensations and do nothing except hold on for the ride. It is more pleasure than I have ever felt in my entire life, and I can’t wait to experience it again.
Rolling so I won’t collapse on top of her, I hold her in my arms, keeping my still pulsing length tucked up inside of her, refusing to pull out yet.
Never do I want to lose her heat.
Never do I want to have her out of my arms.
Never do I want to lose the light that she shines on me and my often dark existence.
Morgan Powell is my very own light at the end of the tunnel, and I didn’t have to die to find her.
I know she is close to passing out from exhausted bliss when her sleepy voice says, “Don’t forget, Brett. You promised me three times a day.” The last word is followed by a small, adorable snore.
A grin spreads across my face until my cheeks start to hurt. Damn, this woman fills all the holes with happiness that I thought had been filled with resignation years ago.
Thank God for cute, stick-up-their-ass women who take their chances on assholes like me.
Chapter
21
Morgan
One Week Later…
“Well …” Casey probes.
“Well, what?” I answer, playing dumb. I know what she wants; I am simply not convinced I want to tell her here in the club where anyone could overhear us.
“What’s it like fuckin’ the boss?” she laughs, and I gasp at her crudeness.
“Shhh …” I hiss. “I don’t know if anyone is supposed to know about us. And, since you asked so nicely”—I look around to make sure we are alone—“it’s amazing. God, why did I wait so long? I know you tried to tell me it would feel good, but I honestly thought you were lying a little. If I had only known it would feel like that, I might not have waited so long after all.”
Her fit of giggles has me balling up the paper sitting on the desk in front of me and throwing it at her. It is one thing to admit to yourself that you might have been a naïve idiot about something; it is entirely something else for your best friend to laugh at you about it. With my luck, the next thing out of her mouth will be “I told you so.”
Since giving my ‘v-card’ to Brett, he has been nothing short of amazing. When he has free time, we spend it together. He set me up in his office at After Midnight, and the day I took over the club’s books, he was so happy he shut the door and fucked me over the desk. He covered my mouth with his hand because he said he didn’t want another man at the club to know just how sweet my screams are. That comment only made me come harder. I don’t know why, but I absolutely love how possessive he gets over me.
Since I am here when the girls start arriving for their shifts, Casey tends to come in early to catch up with me. Our friendship has only grown stronger since the day my sister was kidnapped.
When Madyson was missing, she was my sounding board. No matter the time of day or night, if I called, she answered and listened to me yell, cry, or be somber as I went through the emotions of losing my sister. If it were not for Brett and Casey, I would have completely fallen apart.
Brett and I haven’t discussed being open about our relationship, and I don’t want to overstep my boundaries. I also need to figure out how we will tell Brooke or if Brett intends for us to tell Brooke at all. I know how protective he is over his daughter, and he may be worried about upsetting her. I promised her I would tell her if I ever did have anything with her dad, but now that the situation is here, maybe it is not my place.
Then there is the matter of our age difference. Does it bother him that I am only twenty-four? I know I am young, although many people have told me I have an old soul. I tend to agree with them. Going out clubbing and hooking up with different guys will never be something I want to do. It is obvious I don’t do casual relationships. If I did, I would not have held on to my virginity for twenty-four years. A part of me knew I was waiting for the right man. Now, the question is, will the man I think is right for me decide that I am also right for him?
