Page 79 of Obsessed Heir

I never expected to lose my virginity while a man had me pinned against the wall. Then to have him move us to this very bed for an encore. The second time, he took me in long, relentless thrusts that seemed so much more intimate than being in his bedroom.

Both times he was reckless, unconcerned with protection or consequences. The stark realization is like a bucket of ice water over my lust-hazed mind. My first time out and it’s unprotected sex.

That knocked away some of the fog from my mind.

“You can’t come inside me, Barron,” I suddenly blurt out, panic lacing my tone. What was I thinking? What was he thinking?

The rake of his sharp teeth against my earlobe makes me whimper. His breath fans out to raise gooseflesh over my neck, then his tongue blazes a path right below my ear. Another wave of heat engulfs me, leaving me at his mercy.

“If you keep tightening that hot little cunt around me like that, this is going to end up quick after all.” He emphasizes the crude vow with a rough grind of his hips.

My muffled groan of protest is met with a throaty chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. He captures my lips again in ascorching, devouring kiss as his thrusts become quicker, deeper, pushing me up to the peak again.

I never imagined something could feel so good. I run my hands up his back; my fingers curl reflexively into the bunched cords of muscle as the sounds of obscenely wet strokes fill the air.

“Such a sweet, tight little pussy,” Barron groans against my swollen lips between rough, panting breaths. “And that fucking taste…”

“I can’t believe you.” If his goal was to have me remember the way he put his fingers in his mouth after making me come yesterday, he’s succeeded. While I was beyond embarrassed at the time, the vivid memory is so hot.Sooo damn hot.It’s enough to push me over the edge, into a fantastic, wild orgasm.

Barron’s pounding into me as my body reacts, contracting my muscles in an involuntary reaction. He sucks in a breath, a loud sizzle by my ear as his shoulders hunch.

“Fuck.” Every muscle goes tense. His hips buck, trying to go deeper as his body shudders.

“Barron,” I wail, but it’s too late. The damage, so to speak, is done. “You came inside me again.”

I don’t want to think about the possibility of consequences. Even if by some miracle I was able to get him off me, the intensity of the moment makes any chance of avoiding pregnancy slim to none. I don’t know what that would mean. Having a child isn’t anywhere in my plans.

Good God. How would I begin to explain this to Miss Opal?

I realize your son hates me, but somehow we ended up having wild, unprotected monkey sex against the wall, and now you’re going to be a grandma.

What’s worse is the beginning of that statement. Your son hates me.I struggle with a knot forming at my throat.

Yesterday, I was mortified at the fact I let him finger me to orgasm. What about now? I can only be grateful nobody knows this happened.

Chapter Thirty-One

Barron

I’m still trying to catch my breath when someone knocks on the door.

“Mr. McClelland.” James’s voice comes from nearby, distracting me from Abigail’s breathless accusation.

Abigail’s eyes shoot wide open, rounding in alarm as her head whips toward the door.

“Oh my God,” she squeaks, tensing beneath me. You’d think her husband just arrived to catch her banging his best friend in their bed.

I have half a mind to have James come in. He can get an eyeful of sweet little Abigail writhing naked in my sheets with my cock still buried in her pussy. With the unmistakable scent of sex surrounding us, there’s no way he’d miss the blatant evidence of it.

Instead, I push myself up on an elbow, making no move to dislodge myself from between her thighs.

“What is it, James?” I ask casually, as if this compromising situation is nothing out of the ordinary. Meanwhile, the woman trapped under me is pressing urgently on my shoulders, trying in vain to make me move. I don’t budge an inch, smirking down at her flustered panic.

If I was a gentleman, I’d tell James to leave and give Abigail some privacy to gather her wits.

I’d climb off her and pull the covers up to respect her modesty.

I might even get up and shut the door myself.

---