Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72648 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72648 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
When I press my face into her pussy, I lick straight up her slit. Immediately, I’m rewarded.
“Declan,” she exclaims. Her hands latch onto my head. She attempts to push me away, but only for a moment. As I find her clit, her actions change. Her fingers slip into my hair, curling and gripping tightly enough to make my scalp tingle.
Using my hands, I lift her legs up and over my shoulders, then attack her pussy. My goal is simple—hearing my name and getting her to come furiously fast.
I suck, lick, flutter, and jab my tongue in a storm of purpose. Bailey’s heels dig into my back, her hips driving upward to demand more—I fucking love a greedy girl—and in mere seconds, she’s exploding. My ears ring as her legs slam against the side of my head, her entire body shuddering as she climaxes. When I suck hard on her clit, she cries out and then my name comes out of her mouth again, this time soft and prayer-like. “Declan…”
It’s perfect, yet simultaneously too much. It bothers me that I’m as moved as I am by her reaction, but my body doesn’t care about my sensibilities. I surge up, putting my arm under her lower back to heave her farther up the chaise. With rough movements, I spread her legs and lean forward until my cock rests against her opening. Leaning to the side, I press an elbow into the cushion beside her shoulder, then cup her cheek.
Just as I crush my mouth onto hers, I surge forward and claim her pussy in one deep stroke. Again, she arches, moaning into my mouth as she takes the crude invasion of my cock.
But fuck if she doesn’t stretch beautifully, conforming and contracting around me. She raises her legs, spreading them wide, and gripping my ass. Nails digging in, she silently urges me to give her more.
Lovemaking is for sissies, and my assistant wants to be fucked. I draw back, my length gliding through the slick heat to the tip before pounding back in. Bailey grunts, an amusing sound I’d laugh at if I were in a more jovial mood.
But my mood is dark and needy. I need to come, and I need to make sure I wreck her at the same time. I jerk my mouth from hers, rearing up as I glide my hands to the backs of her thighs. Raising her legs, I split them open, holding her suspended… contorted a bit uncomfortably… and I fuck her hard.
Bailey groans, chest heaving. She grips onto my forearms, eyes glazed as she disappears into a faraway place filled with lust and unyielding pleasure. She seems entirely lost right now, so I’m stunned when I hear her quiet plea. “More.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, leaning into her as I drop her calves to my shoulders. I press my hands into the cushion, lean harder until she’s practically bent in half, then drill my cock into her over and over again.
My balls ache with the need to release. As I look down at Bailey… comparing her face, which is contorted with pleasure, and how she looked with her mouth full of my cock, to my purely professional assistant, I feel like I’ve fucking conquered her.
That knowledge tears my orgasm free, and I growl as I unload into her. I grind my cock into her, milking my pleasure for a few more strokes before I let her legs fall from my shoulders, where they drop limply to the chaise.
“Christ,” I murmur roughly, dropping my head onto her shoulder as I suck in air. My heart is hammering so hard my vision is a bit blurred. Fuck, that was a mind-bending orgasm, and every bit of control I felt before I came seems stripped away.
And I realize, without a doubt, this woman is unlike any other I’ve been with. She’s dangerous.
I lift my head, gazing down at her. She’s completely blissed out, eyes at half-mast as she smiles blearily. Fuck… it pains my cold dark heart when I settle on the only solution.
I’m going to have to fire her.
CHAPTER 10
Bailey
Declan’s deep voice carries as he makes his way through the front portion of the executive suite. He’s down near Alexander’s office, the head chef, and my hands nervously sweat as I wait for him in his office.
I have his coffee perched on his desk, afraid I might spill it because my hands are shaking. The department reports from yesterday are clutched tightly in my fist, probably now damp from sweat.
A quick glance down at my outfit—a repeat I’ve worn once before—a navy pinstripe suit with wing-tipped heels reassures me I look fine, yet I don’t feel like I belong here.
I know I don’t.
Seeing as how he’d informed me that I was fired when he dropped me off at my house last night.