Page 30 of Dirty Deal

“Weston,” she gasps.

Then it’son.

I start with a broad lick up her slit, tasting the salty tang there. My stomach growls in triumph, and I press my face even closer—then devour her pussy like a starving man.

Every lick and suck and nibble is a balm to my bruised soul. Every time Lena gasps and moans and tugs on my hair, some injured piece of me is soothed.

A sheen of her slick coats my cheeks and chin. Her thighs keep tensing, clamping around my ears and muffling all sound until all I can hear is the fevered thud of my own pulse. Her fingernails scratch at my scalp, sending little zings of pleasure down my spine.

And all the while, I pour my fucking heart and soul into the task—trying to prove to Lena Merritt through my worship of her body that I’m hers. That I’ll always be hers. She can trust me; she can take the leap.

“So perfect,” I say, pressing the words against her slick folds. Lena jumps a little, then shifts her thighs so they’re slung over my shoulders. “You’re so fucking perfect, Lena. You have no idea.”

“I’m starting to get the vibe,” she says weakly, and when I raise my flushed face to meet her eyes, she offers a wobbly smile.

Yes.

Holding her gaze, I press two fingers inside her.

“Oh!” Lena’s hips jerk up, her abs clenching beneath her dress, but she’s slick enough to take my fingers easily. “Oh, god.”

Lowering my head, I start lapping at her clit steadily, pumping my fingers in and out of her channel. Stroking at her sensitive inner walls and making Lena pant and writhe. Her body tightens and goes stiff, fighting the pleasure rising inside her, but I keep lapping and thrusting, ignoring the crick in my neck. Ignoring everything but the pained, desperate noises above me.

Let go,I want to tell her, but my mouth is busy. Maybe Lena can read my mind, because a few seconds later, she falls apart with a surprised squeak.

Triumph flares in my brain, but I keep licking and stroking my girl until every wave of pleasure has shuddered through her body, and she slumps exhausted down on my desk.

No rest for the wicked. Nudging Lena’s thighs off my shoulders, I stand and work my belt loose, stepping between her flushed legs. Her slick iseverywhere, glossy in the lamplight. Out of the windows, the city lights glitter.

“Lena. Baby.”

She blinks up at me, groggy, then her clever eyes sharpen. Lena Merritt sits up straight on the desk, grips two handfuls of my shirt for balance, and gives a brisk nod. “Do it. Fuck me.”

“Say you’re mine first.”

It’s a gamble, and I hold my breath until she answers. If she still doubts me after all this… if nothing I do or say convinces Lena of how I feel… despair hollows my gut at the thought.

But Lena rolls her eyes and says those precious words. “I’m yours, you big jerk.”

Thank Christ. Her thighs flex around my hips, soft and inviting, but I’m not done yet.

“Say you’ll stay with me for more than five nights. Say you’ll stay with me forever.”

Lena’s eyes go wide, but she nods again, more eager this time. Like she can hardly believe what I’m asking of her. “I will.”

Reaching between us, I notch the head of my cock at her entrance. Her slick, tight heat calls to me, tempting me inside her perfect body, but I grit my jaw and focus. One more promise, and then I can let go.

“Say you’ll marry me. Say we’ll love each other and grow old together and have overly-argumentative babies. Say it, Lena.”

Her nails dig into my chest as she clutches harder at my shirt. Lena Merritt, the woman I wanted and resented in equal measure for so long, stares up at me with something fragile on her beautiful face. Something precious.

Trust.

And hope. And longing.

“I will,” she whispers. “Wewill.” Her breath hitches as I press forward, entering her body inch by slow inch. And Lena rolls her hips, cheeks flushed at how good it feels, but she keeps staring up at me all the while. “Oh god, Weston. Are you sure?”

Am I sure?

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