Page 8 of The Holiday Inheritance

Gripping the base, I press the tip against her swollen clit, running it up and down her slit to soak myself with her release. My cock is thick and long, with a slight upward curve at the end. There have been some women who have struggled to take all of me, and while Ren is tight, I know she’s my woman. And she will be able to take all of me like the good fucking girl she is.

“Tell me now, princess,” I growl, taking hold of her throat with my free hand to grab her attention. “Tell me now if I need to stop because I don’t have a condom, and I’m clean, but if youwant one, I’ll stop. I need you to tell me now, though. Because I’m losing control.”

“No, it’s okay,” she says with urgency. “I’m clean. Practically celibate and on the pill. Just fuck me. Please, Briggs.” Her hand shoots out and takes control of my cock, giving it a few rough strokes as she lines us up together. Her eyes meet mine, and I am fucking gone. “Please,” she begs one more time.

Chapter Six

Florence

In one swift thrust,Briggs bottoms out inside of me. The stretch is intense, and he fills me so incredibly that I lose my breath and arch my back off the table. Briggs holds me against him, one hand on my hips and his other arm wrapped underneath my lower back. He slowly lifts me so that we’re face-to-face, my legs wrapped around his hips and our mouths hovering just an inch away from each other.

This new position lets me grind against him, giving my clit some much-needed friction. I love the way his hands are just all over me, from my hips to my breast to my back. They hold me close and tangle in my hair, tugging my head back to expose my neck to his mouth. He licks, sucks, and bites all while his scruff scratches. I’m a panting mess, moaning and whimpering with each thrust he gives me.

Every single one is deep, hitting a spot inside of me that no one has ever hit before. It’s a new kind of pleasure, one that builds slowly but no less intense. It builds and builds until I feel like I’m going to break.

“That’s it, princess,” he whispers in my ear before biting the shell. “I can feel you’re so close. You want to come for me?”

I make a soft, plaintive sound, not able to give him a clear answer because the pleasure is just too overwhelming. And knowing that this rough and handsome man in front of me is the one doing it just skyrockets everything higher. I’ve never been so attracted to someone right off the bat like this, and it’s kind of sending me for a loop. Not only that, but I’ve never been one to have a one-night stand. Not that I judge those who do, but it’s just not me. Normally, I need an emotional connection, not just physical attraction.

But with Briggs, that is all off the table. Or…on it, I guess.

“Answer me, Ren,” he says in between kisses. “I want to hear you say it.”

I growl in frustration, the bratty side of me coming out. “Yes,” I tell him with as much attitude as I can muster in the moment. “Yes, I want to come, Briggs.”

Another dark laugh rumbles through him. I hate how much I like them—how much I likehim. “Good girl. I knew you’d be so good for me.”

His pace picks up as his fingers slip between us, finding my clit and teasing it with soft, consistent circles. It doesn’t take long before the pleasure building low in my belly explodes, stealing my breath as he continues to kiss me through it. My head falls back, and he abandons my mouth, instead resting his head on my shoulder. I throw my arms around his neck and hold on as he plows into me, his hands digging into my hips as he pulls and pushes me against him in time with his thrusts.

The table creaks and moans beneath us, and my ass burns from chafing against the rough wood. He whispers my name over and over again, along with some obscenities for flavor, as he comes. His mouth finds mine again while his hands move to hold my face. I can taste myself still on his tongue as it swipes against my own, and when we both finally come down, we both just look at each other.

“All I wanted was a grilled cheese.”

He throws his head back in laughter, gives me a soft smack on my ass, and then lifts me off the table. “Let’s go get cleaned up, and then we can finish the sandwiches.” And while he’s still inside of me, he carries me through the large home—mylarge home—and up the stairs to the bedroom that is now mine.

There’s a bathroom that’s attached with a large walk-in shower. He lets us slip apart as he sets me back on my feet before entering the shower. It’s huge, with frosted glass that blocks his view while he turns on the water.

“Do your business,” he says, peeking around the corner and pointing to the toilet. “Have a piss to keep yourself healthy, and then get your arse in here with me so that I can take care of you.”

“You want me to pee? Right here?” My eyes are wide as he looks at me, confused.

“What, you going to go in here? You into piss play?” he asks, my face heating from the insinuation. “Because if you are, I’m down, I guess. But I’d like to talk through it first. Boundaries are healthy.”

That stupid mischievous grin is back, and I want so badly to playfully smack it off his face. “No, I amnotinto piss play.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” he calls out as he dips back inside the shower. The steam is fogging up the glass even more, and I realize that this man has no shame or embarrassment. He really is expecting me to just sit my ass down and pee with him right there.

So instead of fighting it,whatever, I flip the switch on the wall that turns on the exhaust fan and then do my business while he sings some unknown song way off tune. When I finally join him, he grins and grabs my hand, tugging me toward him into the hot water. His hands smooth back my hair as he spins us and puts me under the water, and then he kisses me again and again and again…

“Ever been married?”

He takes a sip of his wine and grins at me over the rim. “Oh, we’re diving into the hard questions now?”

“I don’t know,” I say, nudging him with my foot. “Is that a hard one?”

After our shower, we made new sandwiches, and he poured us some wine, and now we’re in the den with the fire lit. The den is different from the rest of the home. It’s cozy, with a large, brown leather sectional that has the deepest seats I’ve ever seen in my life and soft blankets thrown everywhere. There’s a large TV above the fireplace and thick, lush rugs to cover the worn flooring.

“I was engaged once,” he admits, watching me for my reaction. I don’t give him one. I don’t care if he’s been married eight times—okay, well, maybe eight is pushing it—I just want to know abouthim. “We were young. She got pregnant, and I did what I thought I was supposed to do. I proposed, we planned, and then four months in, she lost the baby.”

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