Page 33 of My Girl to Take

“Logan!” I break. My second orgasm rips through me with a force that has me screaming, my body convulsing around him, my body clamping down so tight he groans, his thrusts becoming erratic, wild.

“Fuck,” he chants, his grip on my hips bruising, his pace brutal now.

He pulls out suddenly, flipping me over before I can process the loss. He hauls my hips up, my face pressed into the mattress. He enters me again, deep, angled, hitting a spot inside me that makes me see stars.

“One more,” he demands, his voice ragged, his hand circling my throat, adding slight pressure. “Give me one more, baby. I want to feel you come apart while I fill you up."

“I-I can’t,” I sob, even as my body responds, even as I feel the pressure building impossibly again. “It’s too much—”

“You can,” he insists, his free hand reaching around to find my clit, rubbing in tight, merciless circles. “And you will. For me. Always for me.”

He drives into me, his fingers working me with the same relentless rhythm. I feel it building, impossible, inevitable, my whole body tensing, shaking, breaking.

“Ahh….” I come with a scream that he muffles with his hand.

My body trembles hard, and my vision goes white as my pussy clenches around. He thrusts deep one final time and shouts, his cum coating my insides.

He pulls me up, my back to his front. We stay like that for a long moment, both of us shaking, breathing hard, his hand still in my hair. His other arm is wrapped around my waist, holding me close. He presses kisses to my shoulder, my neck, gentle now, reverent.

He doesn’t say anything for a long time.

Then, against my hair: “You’re not going to tell me.”

My eyes sting.

“Not tonight.”

“Alright.” His arm tightens across my waist. “Then not tonight.”

And he lets it go. He actually lets it go, and I lie there in the dark being let off, and I have no way of knowing that this is the most expensive thing I will ever be given.

He pulls out slowly, and gently gathers me in his arms, arranging us on our sides without letting go. My dress is still on, twisted and wrinkled, and he laughs softly, the sound warm and intimate.

“Next time,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my forehead, “I’m taking this off properly. And I’m going to spend an hour just looking at you.”

I snuggle closer, my body sore and satisfied and utterly claimed. “I like the sound of that,” I whisper.

He holds me tighter, and I let myself drift, safe in his arms. My mother’s voice finally silenced, my fears temporarily forgotten.

For now, I’m his.

And that’s enough.

Chapter Seven

Logan

I knew something was off.

Now, I know exactly what it is.

I stare at the screen, unmoving, my jaw locked hard enough to ache. My eyes scan the same set of emails over and over again as if they might suddenly change. As if I read them wrong the first time.

I didn’t. And that’s the problem.

Philip Mathews. Vice president of my father’s firm. A trusted employee. And dirty as hell.

The evidence sits right in front of me, laid out in a way that leaves no room for doubt. The trail I’ve been chasing is finally coming together piece by piece. The service entities. The advisory fees billed into two portfolio companies and never once questioned at fund level. The small but consistent withdrawals that add up to something much bigger than anyone would expect.