Page 9 of Dirty Legacy

“Tell me you want me to fuck you now.”

“I want you to fuck me now.” My eyes lock on his, daring him, pleading with him, afraid, aroused, on the edge of breaking already, ready for him to pull me to pieces. “Please, Mr. Maguire.”

He moans, spits in his hand, rubs it all around his tip, and then⁠—

Sinks between my legs.

Fuuuuck. He’s so big. He slips inside me, slowly at first. His moans are heaven as I’m stretched to my limits, on the verge of breaking completely. It hurts, feels good, feels like I’m so full I’m going to scream.

“Good fucking girl, angel,” he whispers in my ear, kissing my neck. His grip on my hair tightens. “You’re going to take every inch, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Mr. Maguire.”

He moans, strokes deep into me, and slowly slides back out.

“I’m going to fucking break inside you, angel,” he says, tone trembling. “God, you’re so sexy, it’s wrong.”

“It’s wrong,” I agree, and shimmy my hips. “But I want more.”

He gives me everything. His cock sinks in with a thrust and I’m gone, I’m done. I can’t breathe. His masculine groan of bliss destroys what’s left of my self-control. I grind into him as he fucks me on the couch, driving deep into my pussy, one hand in my hair and the other on my hips. I’ve never been more broken, never been flying closer to the edge. I cry out his name, moaning it, gasping. Mr. Maguire! And he likes that, it makes him fuck me harder, his teeth sinking into my shoulder.

“God damn it, angel, you feel so fucking good,” he says, nipping my neck. “I’m so close. I can’t hold on.”

“More,” I whimper, greedily, grinding into him. “More, please, more.”

He thrusts again, and again, until I feel my core clench down tight, the tension reaching peak.

“Come for me, angel, while I fill you to the brim.”

My trigger pulls and I shatter. I break for him, just like he wanted, and I feel his desperate thrusts, his grip tightening, his moans getting wild. I feel his warmth as he comes, sending my orgasm into the next level, my skin flushed, sweat dripping down my body, my vision tunneling into black. I’m left gasping for air, pinned against the couch, boneless and weak as he leans over me and pulls my head to the side⁠—

And crushes his mouth to mine.

Our first kiss, I think stupidly. His tongue is bourbon and mint. It’s sweet and dark, oaky and warm. I kiss him back, maybe too eagerly. He stays inside me for a beat, forehead to mine, breathing in deep.

“You feel so fucking good, Ms. Bellandi,” he says gently, voice shaking. “Can I ask for one more favor?”

“You want more? Aren’t you getting greedy now, Mr. Maguire?”

His grip on my ass tightens. “You don’t know how greedy I can be, Ms. Bellandi.”

“What do you want?”

“Three pictures from your folder. Three and no more.”

“You don’t want them all?”

“Fuck,” he moans. “If I keep more, I’ll spend the rest of my life beating my cock to a pulp. I have work to do, Ms. Bellandi. I can’t afford a distraction like you.”

“Then three is acceptable, Mr. Maguire.”

He slips out and moves away. I turn, flushed, happy, still floating from the orgasm. He stands in front of me like a god, tattooed and beautiful, more man than I’ve ever seen. His cock’s still half hard and it’s enormous, swollen and lovely. I have the impulse to kiss the tip, but I don’t. Instead, I shimmy my panties back into place and start getting dressed.

“You don’t have to worry,” he says, doing the same.

“It’s fine. You said we have an hour. How long was that?”

“I lost track,” he admits, checking his watch. It’s a shiny silver Rolex. “Damn.”