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She tastes like she could save me.
Redeem my soul.
I lap at her juices like a man who’s been thirsty his whole life and didn’t know what he’s been missing, capturing her clit between my lips and reveling in the way she cries out, beating her fist against the desk, one hand coming around to force me deeper into her.
My entire face disappears between her legs, my nose and chin as involved as my tongue and lips, and when I pull back just enough to rim her entrance with my pinky, she’s already coming, her clit spasming on my tongue as I slip my pinky inside, my dick about to explode with the way she clamps down around me.
Giving her one final lick, I extract myself and get to my feet, adjusting the lapels of my suit jacket as she slumps against the desk. I wipe my face with the handkerchief in my pocket, and then gently clean up between her legs as best I can.
“Stay still,” I say, running to the bathroom to grab a wet wipe and some aloe vera lotion; I drag the wipe over my face again, then pour the lotion in my palm and smear it over the raised flesh on her ass, smirking when she hisses at my touch.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” she says, pushing into a standing position when I’m done. Her legs almost buckle, and I slide my arms around her waist, holding her up. She glances up at me through long lashes, her face flushed the same color as her hair.
“Was it… okay?”
Blinking, like she hadn’t considered any other possibility, she shrugs. “It’s new to me, the whole… dominant thing, but I liked it. Liked… giving up control, for once.”
“Did it live up to the fantasies you’ve had of me?” I tease, pushing sweat-slicked hair back from her forehead, pleased with her answer.
She sighs, leaning her head against my chest, the altercation from earlier and the troubles happening with the rest of the world long forgotten. “The fantasy doesn’t compare to the real thing.”
Later, when she’s pulled her clothes back on and lounges in the leather chair across from my desk, reading on her iPad while I finish up a few software audits, I glance up and watch her for a few beats.
She hasn’t mentioned her father’s affair again, although I suspect it’s not far off in her mind—apparently, she hasn’t put together that I was aware of its existence.
But I can tell something else is bothering her; pink bubblegum smacks against her lips every few moments, the pop somewhat deafening in the space between us. I want to ask what else is going on, and that’s when it hits me.
Guilt slams into my chest like an asteroid crashing to Earth as I realize what I’ve just done, tongue-fucking my only friend’s baby sister. A girl he expects me to care for as a sister, to watch out for while the investigation is going on and they’re being targeted, not to devour any chance I get.
And that’s not even where the guilt really stems from.
Sitting behind my desk, studying her delicate face and the forty-seven freckles spread across the bridge of her nose and cheeks, I realize something worse than me just fucking around with my best friend’s sister.
I really fucking like her.
