Page 157 of The Playboy

“Yesss,” I hissed. “You feel so fucking perfect.” I bucked my hips forward, the orgasm moving into my balls. “Do you want my cum, Brooklyn?”

“Yes.”

“I need to hear something first. I need to see it. I need to feel it.”

“Then, listen and feel,” she whispered. Her legs widened the farthest they had been so far, her body sliding with me, her ass contracting around me. “Oh God … Macon!” Once the words left her, the moans took over.

So did mine.

My movements turned harder, more intense, even needier as my body filled with tingles, and the cum shot through my tip and straight into her.

“Brooklyn!” I arched back and blasted forward. “Fuck yes!”

Her nails were stabbing the skin around my knees, her nipples hard as her tits bounced from the motion, her lips not closing until the last groan left her mouth.

I slowed down to the speed of a crawl and eventually pulled out. As I did, my cum began to drip out of her. I circled my tip around that puckered hole, coating myself in the thick white seed that continued to fall from her and glided right back inside her. “Brooklyn, you’re mine.” As I watched her ass swallow the cum I was feeding back into it, I barked, “All fucking mine.” I gave her a final pump, separating our bodies, and glanced up at her face. “And you’re coming with me.” I gathered her in my arms and carried her into the bathroom, holding her as I turned on the shower. As the water warmed, I moved us under the stream, staying silent while I held our bodies together.

When she lifted her face out of my neck and placed her hands against my cheeks, I could no longer hold back the words I was feeling.

The ones I’d been wanting to say.

“Brooklyn …” I took a deep breath as I scanned her eyes, back and forth. “I love you.” I gently kissed her. “I fucking love you so much.”

“You do?” She wasn’t testing me; she wasn’t questioning me. It was as though she knew the answer and was confirming the statement out loud.

I still said, “Yes, I do.”

“Macon …” Instead of only holding my face, she buried her fingers in my beard. She then placed her thumbs at the edge of my mouth and set her nose on mine, breathing in my air. “I love you too.”

TWENTY-SIX

Brooklyn

“How do I look?” I asked Macon as I walked into his kitchen.

He was leaning over the counter, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper.

If I had to guess, he was the only twenty-seven-year-old in this city who got the actual paper delivered every morning.

That man had the oldest soul, and I loved him for it.

He turned toward me, holding his mug, a smile instantly warming his face. “Jesus …” His stare dipped down to my heels and crawled back up. “You’re sexy as fuck.”

“Am I too sexy?” I glanced down the front of me, making sure I was as covered as the mirror in his walk-in closet had shown once I finished getting ready.

My dress went as high as my chin, where it wrapped around my neck. The material was light and transparent along the top until it met my chest, where it then thickened to an opaque material. From there, it hugged my waist and ended a little above my knees.

All black.

Even the heels.

A purchase I’d made during my last week on Kauai while I was out with my sisters, knowing I wanted to get something extra special for my first day.

“Not too sexy, just business sexy,” he replied. “That doesn’t mean I won’t want to spread you over my desk and fuck you on top of it.” He left the coffee and paper on the counter and came over to me. “But if you’re worried it’s inappropriate, it’s not. It’s perfect.” He surrounded my waist with his hands, but he didn’t hold me with the strength that he normally did. He was gentle—gentler than he’d ever been. “How are you feeling?”

As he stood in front of me, I inhaled the woodsy and smoky scent of his cologne and processed the feel of his warm skin against mine.

Macon dressed to go into Spade Hotel corporate headquarters was one delicious sight. He had on a charcoal-colored suit and a crisp white shirt and a silver tie that had thin lines of the same dark gray across it.

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