Page 27 of Hired Help

Pride and panic war with each other and my throbbing clit comes out the winner. My thighs squeeze together, mercilessly wrangling all they can from the situation. I clench my internal muscles like I’m in a Kegel competition.

He pulls away, his cock slapping against his lower belly, the wetness increasing the sound. As I heave in breath after breath of the sweet, sweet air, long strings of saliva stretch from my mouth.

Daegan wipes away the mess, his thumb catching the strands and severing them, gently stroking my face as he cleans me.

“You want to go again?”

I breathe in as I nod, mouth opening at his thumb’s command, thighs tensing ready for action. This time, he slides in slowly, inexorably filling my mouth, then my throat. When I gag, he withdraws a little, pausing, head tilted as he examines my reaction.

I want to do so well for him. The hand stroking my hairs back from my wet face is so gentle, so respectful, so loving, I could melt into a puddle. Although my mouth is full, there’s enough space to suck in air, even when he begins a slow thrust, getting so deep that my throat muscles clench around him, trying to swallow him down like medicine.

“You feel so good when you do that,” he murmurs, stroking the edge of my jaw, tilting to the side to get an eyeline to my bulging throat. “I wish you could see yourself the way I do. You take me so beautifully, even while you struggle.”

A tight bud of pride blossoms at his words, my eyes locking to his, mesmerised as his thrusts pick up speed. He lets my arms drop so he can hold my head steady with both hands, and I immediately cup his taut arse.

“Since you can’t lodge an objection, I get to pick if you spit or swallow.”

My stomach clenches. Withdrawing just before and pumping him into a tissue is more my speed.

“You don’t like that?” He strokes my cheek, eyelids drooping as he gets closer. His vocal cords thickening. “How about if you do this for me, I’ll have a treat for you?”

He relaxes his fingers around my head, no longer thrusting into my mouth but letting me set the speed and the depth, trying my best not to shortchange him. I take more breaths, reaching to cup his balls, feeling their weight, hearing his groan of pleasure, finally unable to bear the increasing insistence of the throbbing between my legs, reaching one hand down to help myself along.

“No.”

Daegan holds my head steady, grasping my arm and placing my hand against his stomach instead. He releases my head long enough to capture my other arm, pinning them together before he returns his firm grip to my head, guiding me where he wants to.

The surge of his cock into my throat grows more insistent, increasing in speed until he issues a low groan, holds me steady, his release spurting into my throat, coating my tongue, making me cough as he withdraws, then coughing again until I can’t stop.

“Hey.” He kneels in front of me, face crumpled with concern, rubbing my back, placing an arm in front of my shoulders so I can’t collapse. “I’m sorry. I should never have done that.”

I hook my hand over his neck, resting my cheek against his chest, closing my eyes as another coughing spasm wracks me. “It’s me,” I sputter when it finally comes to a halt. “I’m not used to it.”

“Not…” He gathers my hands as he leans me back against him, reminding me of our first meeting as he rubs them between his to warm them. “I meant I should never have restrained your arms. You had no way to tell me to stop, and it’s unforgivable. I got carried away and I’m so sorry.”

The apology makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.I got carried away.

It thrills me to know I had that effect on him; this experienced man who takes everything in his stride.

For a second, I think to take back my plans, to let Harrison go, to let my anger go, to shed the skin of pain and fear and abandonment in the excitement of this newfound attraction, of the growing realisation it might be shared.

Then reality reasserts itself. Even if I cancel the dance, I can’t have Daegan. The moment he finds out who I am, how I’m connected to his son, everything I feel for him will be yanked away.

He brushes stray hairs from my face, cupping my cheek, staring at me with a faint frown. “I’m sure whoever you’re practising for will appreciate it.”

I laugh, half falling against him as the comment hits my funny bone. When I finally taper off, I shake my head, regaining what little composure I started with. “I’m not practising for anyone but you. Just walking around the school corridors, knowing I’m the best they could ever have, is enough for me. I don’t need to waste my talents.”

“Like you’re wasting your talents on me?”

“When it’s you, it’s not a waste,” I say before my brain can hit the brakes. I turn pink but can’t think of a way to take it back without drawing more attention, so let the words hang in midair.

Daegan hauls me into his arms, bundling me against his broad chest, unbuttoning his shirt because he knows I like to lay my head there, tracing out the inked shapes over and over, relaxing as my fingertips memorise the patterns.

He knows that just like he knows so many things about me. Except the most important fact of all.

After a few minutes, he falls onto his back, staying there as I straddle him, then knee walk higher and higher.

“And what’s happening here?” he asks, reaching out to slide his fingers under the hem of my blouse, grabbing me with steady hands on either side of my waist.

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