Page 75 of Secret Baby for Mr. Grump

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” His voice was satisfied, vindicated, and throbbing with hunger. “So fucking wet for me.”

I couldn’t answer. I could barely think as his hand continued its torture of my clit while simultaneously, his other hand teased my nipple. The pleasure was building inside me so quickly that it felt like I was spiraling into a whirlwind of pleasure and gasping to catch up. There was nothing to ground me, so I held on to his shoulder for dear life, feeling my legs shake and like I was going to fall over if I came right here.

Then again, I also felt like I would fall over if I didn’t.

He was just…going so slow. The pleasure built and became so intense that it was almost pain. It felt like wave after wave was building inside me, but they never crashed, just built upon each other. My mouth opened, and it became harder and harder to breathe and control the feelings trembling through me.

“Don’t control it,” he ordered as if he could read my mind. “Just go with it.”

I didn’t have a choice, and he began dropping gentle kisses on my neck, sucking on my skin. New sensations sprang out of me, and I nearly sobbed from the pained pleasure of it. But I still didn’t go over. I couldn’t.

“Please,” I gasped, finally realizing what I needed to do. “Please let me come.”

“Not yet,” he whispered.

I could feel the pleasure radiating through him at the fact that I asked for permission.

“Good girl,” he murmured a few moments later, sounding very satisfied. “Come for me.”

It didn’t take long after that. After a few more strokes and a light pinch to my nipple, I was flowing all over his fingers. He caught my cry with his mouth, swallowing it as he continued to devour me hungrily until the pressure built up in my chest.

When I couldn’t breathe, he tore our mouths apart, pulling me to his chest and burying his head in my hair.

“Damn.” His voice was tense, heated. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“I am,” I agreed with a smirk, feeling more empowered than I’ve ever felt in my entire life. I touched the front of his jeans, where he was straining against his zipper. “Let me show you how much.”

He caught my hand before I could do anything. “You don’t have to.”

“But I want to,” I insisted, looking up and using my gaze to plead with him. It was something I’d never done before but had always been curious about. He frowned like he wasn’t quite sure.

So I gave him my best submissive glance and purred, “Please, master, let me suck your cock.”

He shut his eyes tightly, a tortured pleasure reflecting in his expression as he visibly swallowed.

I slowly went to my knees, unbuckling his belt and releasing the straining length.

As I leaned forward and took him in my mouth, he released a groan and finally unleashed the reins of his passion.

TWENTY-EIGHT

MARCUS

The Summit sheriff’s police station was a strange place to be on a Saturday morning.

Or just a strange place to be in general.

As usual, the place was the perfect balance of sleepy and chaotic. One sheriff lounged back, playing a game on his phone, while another sheriff was trying to soothe a farmer’s ruffled feather, telling him that he couldn’t arrest his competitor for horse stealing just based on a hunch.

“It’s not just a hunch!” the old farmer was saying. “I’m telling you, I can feel it in my damn bones. I know that Clinton is a damn horse-thieving delinquent, and you can’t tell me otherwise.”

“Vernon,” the sheriff sighed tiredly, but whatever he was about to say froze on his lips, his eyes widening in horror as he watched me stride in.

I ignored him, slipping my bulky frame into the seat opposite him.

His eyes widened even more, recognition flaring into them.

“You!”

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