Page 53 of Worth the Risk

“Not yet. Let me catch up.”

“Are you...” she choked.

“Oh yeah. I woke up wanting you but have been hard as steel ever since you said, ‘I’m not wearing panties, sir,’ in your throaty morning voice. If you want to come, baby, you’re gonna have to give me more. Insert two fingers and fuck yourself, Bella.”

She didn’t hesitate, sinking into her weeping center up to the third knuckle.

“Feel good?” he asked.

“Not as good as you, but yeah.”

“Use your other hand on your clit. While you rub, pump those naughty fingers fast, baby.”

Of course, she obeyed. She’d gone this far...

“Please, sir,” she breathed.

Dan’s voice grew rougher, his own desire evident as he whispered, “I want you to come for me now, Bella. Surrender to the pleasure.”

Trembling with anticipation, she followed his command, fingers moving faster, more urgently. The pleasure swelled, reaching its peak as she let go. Dan’s low, primal groan sounded as she convulsed beneath waves of bliss. For a moment, time stood still as she basked in the afterglow of release.

Body still buzzing with the remnants of her climax, she whispered into the phone, “I can’t believe I just did that.”

“You didn’t do it alone, babe. Does that make you feel better?”

“Yeah, and I feel incredible even before seven o’clock in the morning.”

Tender, and filled with satisfaction, he countered, “You are incredible, Bella. I can’t wait to be with you Monday to watch you do that in person.”

She flushed hotly. Doing it by phone was daring? Could she touch herself and come with him there, watching? Bella’s heart fluttered as an image came to mind, anticipation filling her again. Except Monday seemed an eternity away.

“What are your plans for the day?”

“Sleeping. I didn’t get home until three.”

“And I woke you up three hours later, horny. That was selfish of me—”

“I don’t regret that you did for a second,” she interrupted, meaning it even though she really valued her sleep. “Besides, I can nap since I don’t have to be at work until four.”

“I’ll let you get to that, darlin’. I need to get cleaned up, let the dog out, and make pancakes for two bottomless pits.”

“Aw, you have a dog!” she exclaimed. “What kind?”

“A chocolate lab named Brownie. Emily named him when she was five.”

“That is so freaking—”

“Don’t say it!” he warned.

But too late. “Sweet,” passed her lips.

He groaned again, and she giggled because it was muffled, and she imagined him faceplanting into his pillow since the bend of her neck, which had become a favorite spot of his, was unavailable.

“Dad! Pancakes! You promised,” she heard in the background.

“Get out the griddle, Em. Caden, coffee,” he called back.

“You gotta go,” she murmured.

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