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I nip at her shoulder as I fuck her deeper…and lift my fingers away from her pussy.
Instantly, she wails. “Clint!”
With a grin, I slip my slick digits in my mouth. “Hmm. You’re so sweet on my tongue.”
She only manages to answer with another toss of her head and a high-pitched whimper.
Moving the cascade of her hair aside, I press my lips to her ear. “I want to lay you across the kitchen table and have you for breakfast. Coffee and your pussy—the two best things in life. I would never need sugar or cream for my java if I had you spread out in front of me.”
Maybe that’s over the top, but it fits my mood.
And Bethany likes what I’m saying if that heavy-lidded look she sends over her shoulder is any indication.
Fuck, this is so hot, and I’d love to drag this out endlessly—just stay with her—but unfortunately my restraint has limits. And this slow, flesh-to-flesh seduction is killing what’s left of mine.
Settling my thumb above her clit again, I strum it in rhythm with my quickening thrusts. She moans and grabs my arm, nails sinking into skin as her walls grip me tight.
She’s close—so, so close. I can’t resist pushing her even closer to the edge.
“Your orgasm is right there, isn’t it?”
With a choppy, indrawn breath, Bethany nods and jerks back against me, as if she’s trying to speed up my thrusts.
“You want it?”
She nods more emphatically.
I grip her hip in warning. “Then stop trying to control my pace. Beg me for it. Give all of yourself to me.”
Again, she whimpers. Not a protest, but as if the idea of relinquishing the last bit of power is terrifying. Still, she syncs up with my rhythm, softens against me, and allows me to take her exactly where I want her to go.
In seconds, her breath begins to hitch, her body tenses, her cries turn keening. She freezes for a long moment, then her entire body shudders with an involuntary spasm. The jerk of her clit against my fingers and the hard grip of her pussy match her hoarse groan of ecstasy as she gives herself over to me without an ounce of reluctance.
Her total surrender undoes me like nothing else, and I lose all semblance of mastery and coordination. I can’t stop myself from pouring into her, becoming one with her. Falling even more in love with her.
A small eternity passes before my head stops swimming and I catch my breath. The second I withdraw from the swollen clasp of her body, she tears away from the railing and whirls to me, throwing herself into my arms. She presses an inexpert, anguished kiss to my lips. I feel wetness on her cheeks.
Worry kicks me in the gut. “Sweetheart?”
“I’m fine,” she croaks.
I know she isn’t. Nothing about this situation is, either. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
She nods. “I’m worried. I need to tell you everything. Just…please don’t think the worst of me.”
Bethany fears I won’t like her confession, and maybe I won’t. But the irony of this situation doesn’t escape me. She’s definitely not going to like what I have to admit in return. But I can’t lie to her anymore. If she’s really decided to share her truth with me for the good of us, I need to do the same.
By mutual agreement, we shower. We kiss slowly, heaping affection on each other as if we’re both anxious about what will happen next. When the water finally turns cool, I reluctantly cut it off. Dread churns in my belly. What if this really is the end? What if she tells me a story that perfectly explains away all my doubts…but she can’t forgive my deception?
After she tosses on a thin blue nightgown, she climbs into bed. I’d rather have her naked, the way we’ve been sleeping the past few nights, but I sense the garment is the security blanket she needs right now.
When I ease onto the mattress beside her, I resist the urge to close my eyes. Sure, I’m exhausted. No surprise after a long, busy shift and two killer orgasms, but what happens in the next ten minutes might decide the rest of my fucking life.
“Come here.” I open my arms to her, glad for the opportunity to hold her. “Talk to me.”
She slides in willingly and lays her head on my chest. “Please try to keep an open mind, okay?”
“Of course.” Will she do the same when it’s my turn? Or if she says she’s guilty, will it even matter to me anymore?
“Have you ever heard of Barclay Reed?”
Here it comes… Everything inside me tightens. “Yes.”
She doesn’t look surprised, probably because this story has been all over the news. “He’s my father, and he’s probably going to prison for scamming people out of something close to a billion dollars. No doubt, Paul Daniels told you that.” She draws in a quivering breath as she tries to brace herself.
