Ms. CEO's Baby Daddy Is the Merchant of Death novel · Chapter 8 of 24

Chapter 8: Still Here at Breakfast

He drove us home with one hand on the wheel and the other on my knee, and he didn't run a single red light.

I wanted him to.

The coach house was one room over the old garage, with a slanted ceiling and a window onto my back yard.

He'd made the bed with corners like a hotel.

His duffel was zipped, at the foot of it.

I looked at the duffel.

He saw me look.

He kicked it under the bed.

The duffel disappeared under the bed with one sharp kick.

I heard myself laugh, short and breathless.

"Did you just kick your own bag?"

"I don't want you looking at it."

He stood with his back straight and his hands at his sides, as if he was waiting for me to make the next move.

I made it.

I crossed the room and pulled his shirt open.

Three buttons hit the floor before I thought to care.

The scar on his left forearm caught the orange light from the window.

I had not seen that arm bare in six years.

He let me yank the shirt off him, and then I put both palms flat on his chest and pushed.

He went back onto the bed.

The frame creaked.

I climbed on top of him with my dress still on, straddling his hips, and I felt how hard he already was through his trousers.

His hands went to my thighs.

"There she is," he said.

My breath caught.

I leaned down and bit his lower lip, not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to mean it.

He made a sound in his chest and his hips came up against me.

"Say my name."

It came out as a command, low and certain, and it undid something in my stomach.

"Abe."

His hands tightened on my thighs.

"Again."

"Abe."

He sat up in one motion and pulled the tie of my wrap dress open with a single tug.

The dress fell away from my shoulders.

He pushed it down my arms, and I let it pool at my waist.

I was not wearing a bra, and his mouth went to my breasts before I could think.

He sucked one nipple into his mouth and bit down just hard enough.

I grabbed his hair.

He was still fully in his trousers, and I could feel the heat of him through them, and I ground down against his cock so deliberately that he groaned against my skin.

"Yvette."

The way he said it, all rough and reverent, made me ache.

I reached between us and worked his belt open.

He lifted his hips so I could shove his trousers down enough to free his cock.

I wrapped my hand around him and he hissed through his teeth.

"Fuck," he said.

I stroked him once, slow, and watched his jaw tighten.

"You remembered how I like it," he said.

"I remember everything."

That landed somewhere behind his eyes.

He grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand off him, then flipped us so fast my back hit the mattress and the dress slid off me completely.

I was bare on his bed in only my heels, and he was above me with his trousers pushed down his thighs.

He looked down at the stretch marks on my stomach.

I put my hand over them without thinking.

He moved my hand away and bent his head and kissed them, one after another, slow and deliberate.

I stopped breathing.

He said nothing.

He just kissed the marks, and then lower, and then lower.

His mouth found my clit and I arched off the bed.

He held my hips down with both hands and licked me in long, slow strokes that made my thighs shake.

"Abe," I gasped.

He lifted his head just enough to speak against me.

"You going to come on my tongue, or do you want my cock?"

Both.

I wanted both.

"Your cock," I said. "Now."

He laughed, dark and low.

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