I stand, pull my sweatpants and boxers down just enough to free my cock.
I spin her, bend her forward over the desk so she’s facing the dark kitchen window—perfect black mirror. One brutal thrust and I’m buried to the hilt. She screams into her forearm, pussy clenching so tight I see stars.
“Look,” I growl, fisting her hair and forcing her head up. “Watch.”
In the reflection: her tits bouncing with every snap of my hips, my cock disappearing inside her repeatedly, her mouth open with silent screams. The lamp light turns her skin gold, sweat glistening.
“Look how fucking gorgeous you are taking me.”
I flip the switch. “Such a perfect little slut for me, letting me ruin you on this desk.”
Her breath hitches. “Theo—”
“Say it.”
“Ruin me.”
I pull out, spin her to face me, and lift her back onto the desk. Hook one leg over my elbow, fold her open, and drive indeep—legs-over-shoulder variation. She’s completely exposed, glistening, taking every inch.
“So tight,” I groan. “Feel how big I am? Stretching this pretty pussy?”
“You’re so huge,” she gasps, head falling back. “You fill me up—take up all the space I have—”
I suck a dark bruise just above her breast, teeth scraping, while my thumb keeps tormenting her clit. The desk lamp flickers with every thrust, shadows dancing across her skin.
Her thighs shake as she comes hard, nails clawing my back. I keep fucking her through it, making her cry from pleasure, until she comes again, soaking the desk.
The sight rips my own release out of me. I bury myself deep, growling her name as I pulse inside her, thick ropes of cum filling her up until it leaks out around us, dripping down her thighs.
We collapse forward, foreheads touching, both panting. The lamp finally steadies, casting a warm glow over her flushed skin, the bruise blooming dark above her breast.
I kiss it softly. “Mine.”
She laughs—breathless, wrecked, and perfect. “You’re insane.”
“And you just came twice on Marco’s desk.” I grin, still inside her. “We’re both insane.”
“Stay,” she whispers. “Don’t go back to your room.”
I nod, her legs still wrapped around me, unwilling to let go.
Chapter twenty-seven
Chapter 27
Marco
Dorothy’s niece lives in a ranch-style house on the quiet end of Oak Street.
Phoebe and I pull up at ten in the morning. Dorothy’s car is in the driveway—the old sedan she’s been driving for fifteen years. Seeing it here instead of at her own house feels wrong. Like proof that Ryan’s already taken something from her, even if he hasn’t succeeded in taking her life.
Her niece answers the door: mid-forties, kind face, and worried eyes. “You must be the investigators. Aunt Dorothy said you were coming.”
“Marco Reyes. This is my partner, Phoebe Carter.” I show my badge. “Is she available to speak with us?”
“She’s in the living room. Fair warning: she’s not taking this well.”
We follow her inside. Dorothy sits on a floral couch, hands wrapped around a mug of tea.
