Page 61 of His Little Secret in Discretion
“Mm, I can feel it. You’re right there.” His hand slipped between my legs, finding my swollen clit with cruel precision. “Let go for me.”
His pounding into me and his fingers working that sensitive spot had me spiraling too fast. My moan caught in my throat, my eyes squeezed shut, and my body gave way.
“There it is.” His tone was almost mocking, his pace never faltering as my orgasm crashed over me.
My legs went slack, my cheek pressing into the couch cushion as the last waves rolled through me. I whimpered, nails digging into the couch, trying to inch forward, but his hand shot to the back of my neck, holding me in place.
“Ah-ah. We’re not done. Still need to fuck every thought out of your pretty little head. Make sure there’s no room for anything but me.”
He pushed deeper, harder, and my entire body shuddered, the aftershocks tipping straight into another wave of unbearable pleasure.
I didn’t want to love it so much… but I did.God, I did.Every ruthless snap of his hips was pulling me farther from my own thoughts, emptying out the chaos in my head until there was nothing left but him, the burn, and the way he was using me.
The overstimulation hit fast and sharp, and I bit down on the cushion to keep from screaming. My body was already shivering, every nerve stretched thin, but he didn’t care. If anything, my trembling only seemed to spur him on.
“That’s it,” he murmured, leaning over me, his breath hot against my ear. “Just a little hole for me to fuck. That’s all you are right now, isn’t it?”
Heat flooded my face, humiliation tangling with a rush of pleasure so strong it made me dizzy. He laughed brutally as my core tightened at his words. He had such a dirty mouth.
“That’s my little baby.” His hand slid from my neck to my jaw, yanking my head back just enough for him to see my face, to watch the tears clinging to my lashes. “Look at you. Aw, you're so pretty,” he cooed, kissing my temples tenderly as a wide smile spread over my face.
“Yeah,” he murmured, his tone dipping low and warm like honey, even as his hips kept driving into me. “My pretty, fucked-out girl.” His thumb stroked over my cheekbone almost reverently, a sharp contrast to the punishing rhythm of his thrusts.
My face met the couch cushions again as his hand returned to the back of my neck, pinning me while he chased his own release. “Stay right there, Sunshine. Be good for Daddy.”
My body clenched tight around him before I could stop it. His low chuckle told me he’d felt it too.
Then his breathing grew ragged, thrusts becoming erratic, deeper, until with a guttural groan he pushed in to the hilt. His hips rolled once, twice, holding me flush against him as he spilled into me hot and deep, and the sound of his satisfaction vibrated down my spine.
He stayed there for a long moment, still inside me, his hand warm and heavy at the back of my neck. My breathing slowed, my cheek sinking into the couch cushion as the noise in my head went silent. No Felix. No past due notices. No Uncle Wes. No gnawing weight of everything waiting for me outside this room.
I didn’t want reality to creep back in, remind me of my fate for the hundredth time, but slowly as my high died down, it did.
Blaine could fuck the noise out of me, strip me down until all that was in my mind was him… but the second he let go, the chaos would find its way back in. It always did.
Chapter twenty-three
Blaine
My little Sunshine was out cold.
Face half-buried in the pillow, hair a tangle across her cheek, cute little ass poking to the side as she snored lightly.
I told her I’d lock up behind me, but here I was, teetering into stalker territory like I was Lucifer himself. I was sure Killian had watched Brielle sleep a million times. Almost 99% sure of it… I just couldn't prove it. But this wasdifferent. This was…oversight. Protection.
Could billionaires be stalkers? Some may have their moments. I call it… quality control.
My Sunshine’s place was small, but she managed to make a house a home, or rather… a rundown apartment into a home. Cheap candles, hand-me-down furniture. All things my baby had to accept to make ends meet seemed like more than just that.
She was too expensive, too spoiled for this lifestyle. She wasn’t able to be her materialistic, unapologetic self. Yes, shallow on the surface, but dammit, I loved that side of her. The little sparkle in her eyes every time she saw something shimmer orgleam. I just hated that she second-guessed every time she did smile for it.
The kitchen counter was a mess in that way, as if she’d tried to clean and then quit halfway through. The mail was pushed into a tired pile, an open envelope turned face down, the corner of a receipt peeking out like it wanted attention.
I flipped it over.
It was thousands of dollars paid. “Congratulations,” scrawled at the bottom like a bad joke.
People didn’t drop cash like this unless they were buying a car, a house, or their way out of something they didn’t want to talk about. And my girl? She wasn’t driving anything new and she sure as hell wasn’t closing on a house.
