Page 60 of Obsessed Heir

Opening my eyes, I find his gaze centered on me. He’s watching my every reaction as he continues to stroke me methodically.

Part of me is still aghast at the fact this is Barron touching me so intimately. Meanwhile, everything inside is shamelessly crying out for more delicious pressure right where he is.

The sound of him gliding through my drenched folds penetrates the depths of my consciousness. I’m wet.Embarrassingly, shamefully, undeniably wet for him. And he’s aware of exactly how my senses react to his skilled touch.

The rise and fall of Barron’s broad chest draw my gaze. But it’s the steady thrum of his heartbeat under my palms that keeps me focused on the knot of his tie.

I try to shift, to regain some semblance of control. But when he spread his knees wider, he took away any bit of leverage or balance I could have given myself.

I’m at his mercy, more a creature of sensation than of rational mind and thought. He plays my body like a master, stroking me until I’m vibrating with a pleasure so intense I’m afraid I’ll shatter into a million pieces.

On the heels of that thought, he pinches my aching clit, triggering an explosive release deep inside me that seems to go on forever.

Tension dissipates in waves, the ripples expanding outward, leaving me boneless and weak, ready to collapse against his solid frame.

The jarring sound of the door opening snaps me back to reality. I’m sitting on Barron’s lap, coming down from a mind-blowing orgasm, and Holly has just walked in on us in this unbelievably scandalous position.

“Oh hell,” I whisper in mortification, my face flaming hotter than it ever has before.

Barron simply leans back farther on the couch cushions, utterly relaxed and annoyingly smug with a maddening smirk. Then, as if to rub salt in the wound, he brings his glistening fingers to his lips and licks my arousal from the tips in a deliberate display.

I want to die of embarrassment as I pray for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

How did I end up in this situation? And where can I possibly go from here after this sizzling, unforgettable encounter with Barron McClelland?

Chapter Twenty-Three

Barron

The sound of her slick folds parting around my fingers has my cock straining painfully against my zipper. She’s soaked, ready for me to plunge into her welcoming heat.

My gaze travels over the swell of her breasts, her taut nipples peaked against the sheer fabric of her lingerie, begging for attention.

Her hooded eyes are fixed on the knot of my tie. I want nothing more than to pick her up in my arms and feast on those ripe mounds until she’s writhing. But I’ll have to deny myself that pleasure for now. With her thighs spread over mine, I’ve stripped any control she might have had over this situation.

And I’ll make sure she’s at my mercy for as long as possible.

I continue to play her body, increasing the pace of my strokes until she’s desperate for the release I’m keeping just out of reach. Finally, I pinch and roll her aching bud, sending her crashing over the edge into a shuddering orgasm.

The sight of her coming undone at my hands is breathtaking. Her lips parted in a silent cry of ecstasy as she grips my jacket. She arches, pushing her breasts out in a delicious offering.

It’s a moment that will live in my memory forever.

I allow myself to imagine how it would feel to have her writhing against my chest. To lift her and bury my cock inside her again and again until she’s screaming my name, her walls fluttering around me.

The tension seeps from her lithe frame, leaving her limp, her eyes open but unfocused in the hazy aftermath.

The door opens, signaling Holly’s return, jolting us both back to reality.

“Oh hell,” Abigail mutters under her breath, stiffening as color floods her cheeks.

In the background, Holly gasps. “Don’t move, that’s perfect!” She rushes over to the tripod, hitting the button to snap some pictures, capturing the moment.

If she finds it odd Abigail is sitting in my lap, she keeps the thought to herself, at least for the moment.

I lean against the couch cushions, knowing a smug smile is stretching across my face. I bring my fingers to my lips, holding her gaze as I run my tongue along the tips to savor the musky taste of her essence. Her unique flavor sends an almost-painful jolt of arousal straight to my groin.

Meanwhile, Abigail’s cheeks are turning from one shade of red to another as she tightens the muscles of her thighs. I clamp down harder on her legs, digging my fingertips into her soft flesh to keep her pinned in place. She isn’t going anywhere until I’m good and ready to release her.

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