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I pin her—though she could easily escape if she wanted to—and drop my lips to her ear. “That’s right, Defiant Queen,” I whisper. “I know all about your dirty little secret.”
“H-how?”
I draw back so I can see her face when I let this bomb drop. “I own it. Virtual Kitty is mine.”
“No. No, it’s not.” She shakes her head. “It’s owned by a company…Easton Incorporated.”
I grin. “That’s right. Easton. Weston. It’s all mine.”
“You had no right!”
“What part of it’s my company don’t you get? I have every right.” She lifts her chin defiantly and I can’t help but to kiss along her jaw. “So, you wanna do porn? Be a good little kitty? Want me to make you purr?”
“Oh, fuck you!” But there’s no bite to her words. If anything, she sounds turned-the-hell-on. The way she arches her back and rubs her tits against my chest only confirms it.
“I’m trying,” I grit out before claiming her lips again.
Stacia’s hands blaze a trail up my chest, shoving my shirt up and out of the way. I break our kiss just long enough to pull it over my head and toss it to the floor.
She kisses her way down my neck, stopping to nip at my collarbones, all the while rubbing herself on my dick. My sweatpants have to go. Stacia must agree, because her hands make quick work of shoving them, and my boxers, down my hips.
I kick them to the floor and mimic her earlier movements, kissing my way down her neck, parting her robe as I go. Instead of her collarbones, I suck one tight, rosy nipple into my mouth as my hand pulls and plucks at the other.
“I need you inside of me,” she whimpers, digging her nails into my ass.
Without hesitation, I shift the black silk of her robe to the side, line myself up at her entrance, and thrust home.
We fuck the same way we kissed—rough and with utter abandon. There are no limits as I plunge into her, making sure to hit her sweet spot with every stroke.
“You feel so fucking good,” I groan, meaning it with every fiber of my being. Being inside of Stacia feels so good, I swear I’d live there, forever, in her pleasure.
All too soon, she’s chanting my name and shattering into a million pieces beneath me. “West, oh, God, West!” She milks my dick for all it’s worth, and before she’s even finished climaxing, I’m right behind her, pressing into her for all I’m worth, my body heaving against her slick skin.
I collapse, rolling off of her as I go. “Goddamn.” My voice is rough, even to my own ears.
“Ditto,” Stacia murmurs. A swell of masculine pride thrums through me at her satisfied, lazy tone.
We lie here for a few minutes, basking in our post-sex glow. Unfortunately, all good things have to come to an end.
“Oh, shit. We didn’t use a condom,” Stacia blurts out, her sultry and satiated tone replaced with worry.
I gulp. Colton is gonna kill me if she ends up pregnant. “Fuck. I’m…I’m sorry. Are you…protected?” My gut sinks when she doesn’t immediately assure me. “Stacia?”
“No,” she whispers.
“You’re not on birth control?”
“Um, when Dad was arrested and they froze his accounts, our insurance was canceled for non-payment, so I…I couldn’t refill.”
Shit. “Come here.” I tug her into my arms, cradling her to my side with her head on my chest. “It’s okay.”
She mutters something unintelligible before asking, “What’s today?”
I rattle off the date and wait.
“We…should be okay. Mostly. I think.”
“You think?”
She nods, her silky hair tickling my chest. “Yeah. I mean, I’m like…seventy-six percent positive.”
I hold her a little tighter to me. “I’ll take those odds.”
Something niggles at the back of my brain, forming a dark thought that whispers in my ear—if she is pregnant, you gain access to your trust with time to spare. But I shake it off; Stacia’s so much more to me than a means to an end. Though, I can’t help but wonder if she’d be willing.
“So, what now?” she asks, moving away from me.
As she sits up, her entire body on display, the old adage ‘I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave’ comes to mind. “Wait a fucking minute. Is…is your snatch bedazzled?” I ask, my eyes honed in on the sparkling gemstones peeking out through her neatly trimmed curls.
Stacia snorts out a laugh. “It’s pierced.”
“Well, hot damn. If I’d have known that—”
“You’d have what?” she asks playfully.
“I’d have pre-gamed a little more instead of skipping right to the main event.”
She shrugs. “I’d say next time, but this should probably be a one-time thing, right?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to agree with her, but instead I find myself saying, “Maybe. Meet me at my office tomorrow at nine—I have a proposition for you.”
