Taking Control (Kerr Chronicles #2)(68)
Author: Jen Frederick

“Is that right?” She smiles at me, a wicked thing full of naughty promise. Her arms are stretched high above her head, and she undulates slowly beneath me, enjoying the slippery friction of our bodies moving against each other.

Her eyes are half-lidded, weighed down by desire. Through the curtain of her lashes, I see the glow of her eyes. It’s a heady mixture of love and lust, of want and need, of passion and promise. Each stroke of my steel-hard desire is met with her own driving fervor.

“That’s right.” Bending forward, I capture a jutting nipple in my mouth and am rewarded with an arched back and a breathy moan. With one arm, I gather her more closely to me so that she is nearly suspended, pinned to the bed by my rutting cock. “I’m obsessed with you,” I confess, panting slightly. The hold of her snug walls on my c**k makes it hard to think. I want to just fall on her and plunge repeatedly into her soft core until my shaft explodes in a mania of pleasure. “I can’t stop thinking about you or wanting you. Everything I do now and forever will be for the sole purpose of making sure that you are f**king satisfied in every way.”

My words are punctuated with increasingly harder thrusts. She meets them readily¸ swiveling her hips and using her feet and legs to meet every press.

“I love your cock,” she moans. “And your mouth.”

“They love you too, bunny.”

Inside the slick recesses of her sex, that c**k is pushing toward a finish, and as she begins to tremble around me, I realize I am not alone. Holding her firmly against me with one arm banded around her back, I slip my free hand between us to find her clit.

With my erection hard inside her and rubbing her sensitive tissues with each stroke, she comes apart at the firm caress of my fingers on her delicate flesh.

“Oh,” she gasps and then cries out, “Ian! Please. Now.”

Her words release me, and I thrust inside her with jerky, uncoordinated movements as the orgasm rolls up the base of my balls. But I hold off because I want to her to come with me. I want to feel her milk me until I’m coming so hard that my brain detonates in my head.

“I will want you forever,” I growl into the soft mounds of her br**sts. Then, biting down on her tender skin and her plump curves, I mark her. She screams out in ecstasy, her head thrown back and the long line of her jaw exposed to my ravening mouth.

As she shatters in my arms, I jet all the seed ever created into her body while she clings to me like I’m the only port in a storm.

“I wish Mom had seen what happened at the Frick tonight,” Tiny sighs, curling into me. I roll over to fold my arms around her and tuck her into my body.

“She’s here with us.” I stroke her damp back, lightly dusted with sweat from our bed play.

“I hope not,” she jokes. “Like I hope when she’s watching me she takes a few breaks so she doesn’t see this.”

“See what? Me f**king your brains out?”

Tiny rises up on her knees and pushes me onto my back. “How about me f**king your brains out?”

“Look away, Sophie,” I say. “Your daughter is about to defile me. Worse, I’m going to enjoy the hell out of it.”

The entire weekend is spent in bed, exploring and making sure that baby gets made.

ON MONDAY, I FEEL ENERGIZED. And I realize that for the first time, I’m not waking up with the bitter knowledge that my family’s destruction has gone unavenged. In my more rational moments, I acknowledge that letting go and moving on might have been the honorable things to do, but I doubt they would have been as satisfactory.

Page Six is full of the weekend’s entertainment, but the front page is even better. Below the fold is an article mentioning the troubled fortunes of mayoral candidate Edward Howe and the speculation that he will be dropping out of the race.

Kerr Inc. stock is up when news of the blocked takeover bid by disgruntled board members is leaked by Jake to a reporter friend. That’s all he had to leak to her. The rest of the information she was able to run down on her own.

On the Arts page is a write-up of the gift to the Frick honoring Sophie Corielli. It’s all good today.

The phone rings all morning with congratulations and thanks and innuendos about my mother. The rumors will always dog us, but at least most of the truth has been revealed. Because Kerr Inc. stock is high, I sell a portion of my shares before lunch to start shoring up Nessie’s fund. It saved my business having that fund, and I’d like to get it to solid levels again. It will take time to dig out of the financial hole I’m in, but it will happen.

I’m dragged out of my office by Kaga for lunch at Morimoto.

“It’s all Kerr, all the time in the New York papers. One would think you bought off the press.”

“I did. I bought them with a salacious scandal full of sex, old rivalries, and doomed political futures,” I counter.

“It was an expensive night,” he answers thoughtfully. He’s referring to the information Howe revealed about my mother.

“That was merely the rantings of a madman.” Some people will believe it. Others won’t. I’ll have to live with that.

Kaga dips his head slightly. He won’t ask any other questions. “I’ve been speaking to the director of the Frick about making a donation, but I’d like to tie a specific request to it.”

Now it’s my turn to shake my head. “Sabrina isn’t interested in being a curator at a museum.”

There’s hardly any change to his expression, but I sense his discomfort. I don’t know that anyone’s called him out on his obsession before.

“And you know this, how?”

“Because she wants to be a DJ. I believe she’s expressed that desire more than once to you and Jake.”

He waves his hand. “That was a passing interest when she was a teenager. She’ll be graduating and wanting to enter the real world with a good career.”

“I’m pretty sure that her answer to this will be ‘bullshit.’ Or something even more candid, if I recall Sabrina correctly.”

Kaga narrows his eyes. “You know something. Tell me. Tell me right now, or I’ll be forced to kill you with my chopsticks.”

I feel like living on the edge, so I just smile at Kaga, willing to suffer the consequences. Given that I walk out of Morimoto’s without harm, it seems like every bet I’m making is coming up aces.

TWENTY-SIX

TINY

MARCIE AND I ARE WALKING down Amsterdam to pick up lunch at Grandaisy Bakery when I see it.