Page 21 of Staking His Claim
Her sopping wet pussy. Reveled in her hot little gasp.
“Look at you, dripping wet for my obsession wall. You wanted to know, now you know. I would call us even, but I have a feeling I’m going to win this obsession game,” I whispered in her ear. Then bit her soft lobe, my dick jerking against her ass when she shuddered.
“When…?” she asked shakily, still taking it all in, but now nudging her juicy ass against my crotch.
She would need fucking soon and I couldn’t wait to fulfil her need.
I slid two fingers alongside her clit, not quite giving her nub the attention it desired. “When was my obsession mode activated? I craved you the moment I saw you. But I knew I wasn’t going to rest until you were mine when you wiped the floor with paralegals with years more experience than you during the Lovell deposition.” I bit her ear again and felt her body sag.
“Fletch.”
“Fuck, have I told you how much I love it when you sigh my name like that?”
“I thought you loved it when I called you Mr. Knight?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I love everything about you.”
Her breath caught and mine strangled in my lungs when my words echoed in the room.
She struggled to spin around in my tight hold and her eyes were wide saucers when she looked up at me. “I…you…”
“Just told you I love you?” I dropped my forehead to hers. Fuck it, I’d held on to my willpower for six months by the skin of my teeth. Maybe letting go wasn’t such a bad thing. “Yes, I did. I do.” I pulled back so I could look into her eyes. To confess my unshakable truth. “I would die and kill for you. I fucking love and adore you, Emily Hartley. With every fiber of my being.”
She didn’t say it back.
And I was okay with that.
She…we’d been through a lot. And I’d unloaded way more on her today than I’d intended.
While I knew of the little things she’d done, like steal my shirt and pretend the dry cleaners had lost and then replaced it, and bought me a gift to mark my divorce, it could all have been the equivalent of a schoolgirl crush on her part.
If she needed a minute to work through her feelings after forty-eight hours of being dicked down by a raving lunatic who hadn’t had sex in almost three years, I owed her that respite.
Especially when she threw her arms around my neck and rose on tiptoe to kiss me. With tongue. Enthusiastically.
Wrapping my arms around her, I lifted her and marched us to the armchair I’d spent many lonely nights in, stroking my cock to her image.
Perching on the edge, I placed her between my spread legs without breaking the kiss. Her fingers spiked into my hair, and God, the noises she made when she was turned on was like my own personal orchestral symphony.
So of course, I protested when she broke the kiss. “Hey, I wasn’t quite done with—oh…fuck.”
The sight of Emily dropping to her knees was a new and intensely heady one. And I was stoked to see she was already growing bolder, taking my cock in her hands while looking me straight in the eyes.
Stroking me while her breath shortened, as if her pleasure in the act was just as acute as mine.
“Is this okay, Mr. Knight? Shall I go a little harder?” It was a half-teasing, half-curious query that I had to blink a couple of times to answer.
“Whatever you give me, I’ll take, baby.”
She pouted. “But I want to learn. Teach me, Mr. Knight. I’m your eager paralegal, super stoked to learn.”
Yeah, okay. Now she was in full vixen mode. I squeezed my eyes shut as sensation battered me. “Fuck.”
As she lowered her head and her tongue flicked out to lash my engorged crown, a whisper of a thought impinged.
Monday was racing toward us.
And as she’d reminded me, she was my paralegal. At least for the time being. She would make a phenomenal lawyer when the time came and I intended to fully support and yeah, maybe push her firmly in that pursuit.
