Page 53 of Edge of Secrets

“She absolutely did,” he said solemnly. “Ask her, when you see her next. She’ll corroborate with pride.”

“Oh, my God.” I covered my face with my hands and started to laugh. “I can’t believe them. I just can’t believe it.”

“I have to admit, I found it kind of comforting,” he mused. “I figured, maybe there’s hope, you know? Even for a lumbering, fist-dragging, Neanderthal meathead like me.”

“Oh, you just shut up!”

“Good thing you like ’em big and stupid, right?”

I swatted at him. “Stop it! You’re making it worse!”

“Not worse. Better,” he said. “It feels fucking amazing. Those little fluttery clenches around my dick every time you laugh. Laugh all you want. I’ll keep you laughing as long as I can.”

I pressed my hand to his mouth, chest hitching, eyes watering with shaky giggles. “Shhh. Really. Please, Duncan, damn it. I’m serious. Stop.”

“Fuck, no.” He pulled my hand down, grinning. “So this guy walks into this bar?—”

“Shhh!” I stared fiercely into his eyes. “I. Am. Serious. Acknowledge it!”

He nodded, and kissed my palm. “Okay, okay,” he soothed. “I’ll be good. I won’t do my alpha thing. I won’t even move. I’ll sit here like a statue. Your life-sized sex toy. You just squeeze me, ride me, do whatever you want until you’ve had enough. Sound good?”

Oh, boy, did it ever. I did exactly as he offered, squeezing him inside me until my lower body was flushed and glowed with intense, shuddering pleasure, shaking with firecracker jolts. He kept his promise, though it could cost him. It took a while for me to get where I needed to go, with him so motionless. He trembled, gripping my arms tightly, staring at my face as I writhed and whimpered, too lost to pleasure to be self-conscious. It was a long, slow climb, but the outcome was inevitable. And explosive.

He caught me as I arched back and plunged into free fall, his growl of satisfaction vibrating through me.

I collapsed over his shoulder, breathless and limp—blushing and damp with sweat as the aftershocks rippled through me. I could feel his heartbeat in his cockhead, throbbing deep inside. A deep, steady, pulsing rhythm. So close to me. I loved it.

I lifted my head and the look on his face took me by surprise. Not that taut, tense mask of self-control he wore while I was pleasuring myself with his body. This expression was very different. Soft. Almost wistful.

“What are you thinking?” I asked him.

He touched my eyebrow, then my cheekbone, then my lips. “I was just wondering what a kid of ours might look like.”

Those words pierced me with a strange mix of emotions—joy, fear, fury, hope. That bastard. How dare he. Playing me like a fucking violin.

“Don’t say things like that to me,” I forced out. “It’s reckless.”

He shrugged. “You asked what I was thinking. I told you the truth. I always do.”

I dismounted, my breath shuddering out in a low sigh. The sweet, tight, delicious friction as his cock caressed my sensitized inner flesh felt so good.

I stared down at his cock, which stood high and hopeful against his belly. Rigid, pulsing, gleaming with my own balm.

I had no intention of sinking to my knees, but that’s where I ended up, grabbing his thick, pulsing cock, stroking smooth, hot skin. Licking him, and tasting myself. It was a classic thousand-dollar-an-hour call-girl scenario. Blowing the boss in his swivel chair in the high-rise corner office. From the outside, it looked pornographic.

But I wasn’t on the outside. I was so far inside, I was in a whole new world—one where the rules had flipped on their head. I had changed, too. I felt softer. More joyful. More sensual. More powerful. I felt fearless, shameless, and burning with a desperate desire to give him pleasure. To show him my favor. My chest, my face, my throat, my pussy, were all hot, soft, wet, aglow.

Of course. I was crazy in love with him.

I let that thought slide. I didn’t dare examine it—and besides, it took all my concentration to give a blow job to a man as well-endowed as Duncan Burke. He was hung like the proverbial horse. I wasn’t an expert, but oh, so very motivated.

I petted and stroked, swirling my tongue around his cockhead, and tried to draw him deeper. I loved the sounds—the shaking grip of his hands in my hair, the shudders that rippled through him. I was just hitting my stride when his fingers tightened and he let out a choked shout.

His come spurted into my mouth in hard, rhythmic jets.

I staggered to my feet after a few minutes, holding on to the desk for balance, and wiped my mouth. Too shy to look at him. My face was so hot.

He dragged me over between his legs, hugged me around the waist, hid his face against my breasts. All my shyness evaporated, leaving only tenderness.

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