Page 83 of The First Taste

“Tell you what?” I grit out.

“Tell me exactly how bad you want my cock. That you want to feel me stretching you out and ruining you for other men. Tell me that you want to make you come in the way that I only I can do.”

I give a pleasured hiss. “I want it, Keir.”

“Yeah?” He slips a finger into my swollen core. “Do you?”

I shudder at the sensation of his finger slowly working in and out of my pussy.

“Keir…” I beg. “Please…”

“Please what?” he whispers. “Tell me explicitly. Tell me just what I need to do to you that will make you come like never before.”

His fingers circle my clit again. I gasp, strangled. Ineedmore from him.

“Please!” I say, desperation in my tone. “Keir, if you don’t fuck me–”

He shoves me off his lap and spreads my legs wide. I manage to get my knees beneath me as he pushes his slacks down his legs. I’m not fully ready for the brutal way he grips my hips and enters me with a sharp thrust.

I make an inarticulate sound of discomfort as I adjust to his sheer size.

Before I can even think about how his cock is too big, he starts moving, thrusting.

“Rub your clit,” he commands me.

Then he starts moving faster, as quick and hard as a jackhammer. My eyes roll back in my head until I close them. I reach down between my thighs and touch my throbbing clit.

His rough thrusts. The way he grips my hips, knowing that his hands will leave marks on my delicate skin. And the sound of his voice as he growls orders at me… Keir is saying all the right things, touching every part of me, filling me up with every stroke.

“I can feel your pussy milking my cock. God damn, you are so tight. So fucking hot.” He thrusts a few more times, his voice gone to gravel when he purrs. “Come for me, sweetheart. Cum on my cock.”

I can feel the orgasm ripping through my body, starting at my clit and spreading out like wildfire. I clench my eyes, my body spasming as I try to ride out the wave.

For several seconds, I am somewhere beyond thought.

“Fuck, Ella!” Keir calls out. He moves with lightning speed, his voice wavering.

Then he stops thrusting, his body seizing. I can feel several hot lashes of his seed land as his cock twitches deep inside my pussy.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his grip on my hips easing. He runs his hands up the bare skin of my back for a few seconds before he withdraws. “Jesus christ, Ella.”

I push myself up onto all fours, just getting up as he tucks his cock back in his pants. He kisses me, slow and hard. Fleetingly, I wonder what it would be like just once to spoon afterward and to feel like… well, that we’re not just fucking…

Twenty-Nine

“Fuck,” I mutter to myself.

This is not what I needed today.

Looking down at my phone, I try to absorb the information that is splashed across the screen. It’s another email from my private investigator addressing that nosy journalist Wendy Allen.

I’ve looked under every rock and inside every crevice, searching for dirt on the journalist. I have checked for the most common things, like forged college transcripts and IRS liens. I’ve called all her former bosses, looking for any hint that she might have a history of filing stories with dubious sources. So far, I’ve found nothing of substance. I will continue to look, but it might be advisable to consider alternative strategies.

Ms. Allen has several large student loans. Maybe offering her a job that will take her far away is a viable plan?

I close the email, frowning as I glance out the window of the chauffeured SUV. Ella is sitting next to me, staring blankly out her window, her eyes unfocused.

I glance back to see Natasha and Isla in the third row, both absorbed in their tablets. Turning back to my own window, I glance out and sigh. Reaching in my collared shirt, I fish out my necklace. The rings on the end of it make soft sounds as they clack together.