Page 12 of Hidden Heir

“Don’t drop me!” she says desperately. “Holy shit, you’re so deep…”

“I’ve got you,” I assure her, using my bulk to press her into the wall. “Now, scream for me.”

The first few rapid thrusts as I pound hungrily into her only make her gasp, but soon each thrust of my cock must be reaching every delicious, hidden nerve inside her because Brooke screams. She curses and moans, screams and yelps, and her fingernails draw blood from my wrists, but I don’t stop. I fuck her with all the power I hold in my hips as gravity keeps bouncing her back down onto my cock where she belongs. It’s hard and messy, my hips slamming against her repeatedly like a punch, and she’s clinging on for the ride.

Our moans mingle with the slick slap of flesh and she pants wildly, growing hoarse from her wild screams of pleasure. My thrusts grow harder as I rapidly draw closer to my orgasm, andby the way her pussy pulses around my cock I’m guessing she’s just as close.

Three more thrusts and I come with a growl, sinking my teeth into the meat of her shoulder. She squeals in pain then dissolves into breathless moans while her pussy clamps down around my cock. She comes hard, her entire body trembling in my grip, and I rock my hips upward, pumping my cum as deep into her as I can reach. I hold her close until her trembling stops and she’s a panting spent mess in my arms.

“Fucking hell,” Brooke gasps. “Do you always fuck that hard or is it the alcohol?”

“Call me when you’re sober and we can find out,” I say, nuzzling into her neck and then very slowly setting her back down on the ground. As my softening cock slips from her heat, she stumbles slightly and moans.

“You know, I’m not so sure they heard us over the music.” She looks up at me through her dark lashes. Her lipstick is smeared, her cheeks red from flushing and being pressed against the wall.

“No?” I say, cupping her cheek and brushing a stray tear from her lashes.

Brooke smirks. “Wanna go again?”

5

BROOKE

MODERN DAY

My hands won’t stop shaking.

They’ve been trembling violently ever since I locked up the shop after Paul and his goons left. They quivered against the steering wheel as I drove recklessly through the city, taking as many unexpected twists and turns as I could think of until I reached Hannah and collected Tiff. Hannah was alarmed to see me, but I couldn’t stand the thought of my daughter being away from me when those assholes had made it clear they knew about her.

My hands continued to shake and tremble on the drive home and as I fed Tiff some lunch then put her down for her afternoon nap as if this was just a normal Friday.

Standing in the kitchen with the kettle whistling away, my hands still shake. I have no control over them. Curling my fingers, I clench them into fists, but pressure only seems to increase the tremble. Placing them down on the cool counter, the tremor moves up my arms.

Paul wasterrifying. My mind reels from everything he told me, from the missing drugs to the money owed. The sourness of his fingers still lingers in my mouth, and I can feel their weight,as if he’s still here trying to claw down my throat and remind me of his threats. My stomach cramps painfully and I double over to puke into the sink. I heave for a few minutes, spitting up nothing but bile and some blood, until my entire body is shaking and soaked in a cold sweat.

What the fuck has Ant gotten himself into?

Rinsing my mouth with water, I pop a few painkillers to combat my tired headache and attempt to make tea.

Ant’s asleep on the couch. I didn’t wake him when I came home because Tiff was my focus. I didn’t want her to see that I was scared, but now I’m by myself, and it’s all I can think of. I wish I had someone to turn to who could help me but there’s no one.

No one but Ant.

Abandoning my tea, I stride into the living room and shut the door firmly, then I pick up the nearest cushion and smack sleeping Ant hard over the head with it. He grunts and jolts, so I attack him again and for a brief moment it feels good just to hurt him.

I’m so angry at him and it’s coming out in a fury.

“Get up!” I hiss. “Get the fuck up!”

“What the, Brooke, what the fuck? Man, I was sleeping!”

“I don’t give a shit!” I launch the cushion at him again as he wipes his face and sluggishly sits up. “You have some fucking explaining to do!”

“What are you talking about?” He looks up at me with those sad, puppy eyes and just like always, it pulls at my heart. “I haven’t done anything. I’ve literally been sleeping since you left.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” I spit out, pacing between him and the coffee table. “You’re sleeping and hiding instead of taking fucking responsibility for your fucking actions. Once again, I’m the one having to fix it!”

“What are you talking?—”

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