Page 83 of Broken Brothers

She moved her face down and wrapped her lips around, sucking on me as my entire body’s focus shifted toward the tip of my cock. I’m not sure how much Claire had to fight preventing herself from orgasming so quickly, but if it was anything like this, then I was impressed that Claire lasted as long as she did.

The manner in which she worked suggested I had severely underestimated her. If I had known that she would move and work so effectively, I would never have left her alone at the bar the night before. In fact, I may have just pulled her into the bathroom and gone to work on her right then and there.

She seemed to have perfect timing on everything, from the way she fondled my balls to the way she looked at me with those sharp eyes, as if she was a fucking pro at what she did. She took very few breaks for air, and when she did, her hand continued to work.

I had to beg her to stop so I could fuck her. I grabbed a condom from my pocket, put it on, and Claire mounted me.

“Oh, Chance,” she said.

Her pleasurable cries were beginning even before I’d gotten inside of her, just by brushing up on her. When she put me in her, I knew we had picked right back up where I’d left her—writhing and moaning in unbelievable pleasure.

Watching her on top, her breasts bouncing, her mouth gaping open, her hair flowing in space, I only had to ask myself one question.

Why the fuck did it take you so long?

She and I went at this, body-on-body, pleasure for pleasure, for what felt like an eternity. We switched positions as I lay on top of her and then got into her from behind, and every position felt better than the last. Everything we did felt like a perfect match—now I began to also wish I’d discovered her while at Burnson Investments.

Works well, doesn’t it, how this all played out?

When I finally began to feel like I was going to come, I flipped her back on her back. She knew what was happening without asking and ripped the condom off, jerking me until I finished all over her chest, moaning my own version of the finished song of sexual release.

Like a painting, I could only stare at what had just happened, admiring the beauty radiating from Claire McLendon and what I had done.

“Took you long enough,” Claire said, giggling. “I’ll be back.”

She leaned up, kissed me, and then headed to the bathroom to wash off. In that roughly 30 seconds between when she entered and came back, I lay on her bed, thinking about what had just happened.

The animal within had clawed its way out and left its mark on Claire. I had not unleashed that side of me since Layla, but even then, it felt like that side wasn’t as fully explored as Claire was. There was always the fear of being caught by her father… uncle… whatever Craig Taylor was. There was always the risk of losing my job for having sex in the office.

With Claire, those thoughts never crossed my mind. Sure, if Morgan found out, he might be concerned about the ethics of sleeping with a member of our portfolio. But Morgan, if anything, had permitted, if not continuously encouraged, this behavior. He wouldn’t see anything wrong with it.

So for now, I didn’t see anything wrong with it.

When Claire emerged from the bathroom, I definitely didn’t see anything wrong with it.

“Oh, that’s just what I needed,” Claire said with a short chuckle. “Chance Hunt, I don’t know how you did what you just did, but try and capture that magic for next time.”

“Wow, there’ll be a next time? I thought you hated this.”

Claire just laughed, playfully slapping my chest in the process.

“With the Adonis-type of frame that you have? I would be a fool not to keep this up.”

She snuggled closer, pushing her head against mine.

“Just don’t tell Morgan. I don’t want to create any problems there.”

I definitely didn’t, but hearing his name reminded me.

I had to be up before 6 a.m. to get to the airport. And I hadn’t even packed.

“I won’t, but he is making me leave on a 6 a.m. flight,” I said as I sat up. Claire tugged on me, but I pushed through.

“Stay for fifteen?” she pleaded.

I looked at my phone. It was 8:30. It wasn’tthatlate. But then again, a 6 a.m. flight wasthatearly.

Still, just fifteen?