Page 66 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends

I smack her ass hard once. She tenses and releases. Good. I do it again, twice. Her ass goes pink this time. One pink handprint. My handprint.

“I think you like this.”

She takes a beat. “Didn’t know I would. But I do.”

“Jack says you like your nipples pinched hard. What other pain do you like?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t played much like this. Just read about it.”

I smile. “Dirty girl.” I land ten smacks on her other side, and by the end of them, she’s wiggling back for more. I thought I could hold out, but knowing how much she likes it right out the gate, I’m done waiting. We can play more later.

I cup her pussy over her panties, and her hips rock against my hand. I slide the lace aside and push two fingers into her, slow and deep.

She cries out softly.

“Quiet, pet,” I say. “You don’t want anyone to hear, do you?”

She shakes her head, panting.

I curl my fingers inside her and press my mouth to her neck. “You’re soaked. So ready for me.”

She whimpers.

I pull back just enough to undo my belt, unzip my pants, and free myself. I don’t waste time—don’t want to. I want to feel her come apart for me, because of me, here in the office where they tried to humiliate her.

I push into her in one long, slow stroke, and we both groan.

She grips the desk, knuckles white, as I start to move—thrusting hard, steady, controlled. The desk creaks beneath us, her moans barely stifled behind bitten lips.

“You take me so well,” I murmur. “Like you were made for this.”

She gasps when I reach around and slide my fingers over her clit, rubbing in tight circles in rhythm with my thrusts.

“Gavin—oh god?—”

“Come for me,” I say. “Let go.”

Her whole body shudders around me, her cry caught in her throat as I push her over the edge. I follow seconds later, buried deep, groaning against her shoulder as I spill inside her.

We stay like that for a long moment. Breathing. Shaking. Together.

I finally pull back, adjusting her skirt with care, then tucking myself away. She’s still braced against the desk, chest heaving, lips parted.

I gently pull her upright, turn her to face me. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes wide. I kiss her softly, reverently. And for the first time all week, everything feels steady.

Settled.

Mine.

16

HARRISON

She’s quieter than usual.

Not in the “focused on work” way either. I know that version of Parker. She hunches a little when she’s deep in a spreadsheet, furrows her brow when she’s double-checking something. But this? This is different.

She’s stiff. Eyes a little too blank when she looks up from her desk.