The Intern (The Dalton Family #4)(14)

The only thing that would have been sexier was if there were a light in the alley, allowing me to see her.

But what the darkness did was heighten my other senses—her vanilla still all I could smell, her beautiful curves and that amazing cunt all I could focus on.

“Hannah,” I roared, twisting my way in, grinding, building that intensity, “you feel—”

Her mouth cut me off as it slammed against mine.

An unexpected kiss.

One that I didn’t immediately end.

Because the more it deepened, the more I danced around her tongue, the better this all felt.

Fuck, I didn’t know how.

Why.

But I knew I didn’t want this to end right here.

I wanted more.

And I wanted more tonight.

I pulled away from her lips and growled, “You’re coming home with me.”

As I pounded into her, feeling like I was tearing through her, her pussy began to clench.

“Take me, then.”

Not until the both of us came, and then I was putting her in the passenger seat of my car and driving her to my place, where we were going to continue this.

Where I could really take my time.

Where I could spread her across every surface of my house.

But first, I needed her to scream once more.

I could feel that she wasn’t far from doing that.

She arched her pussy into me, squeezing me with a neediness that came from wanting one thing.

“You didn’t think you could come a third time.”

“God, was I wrong.”

“If you think this is the last time you’re going to come tonight, you’re wrong again.”

“Declan, I”—she sucked in air, closing in around my shaft—“I can’t … I can’t stop it.”

“Then, maybe I should.” I slowed my strokes. “Maybe I should make you wait, punishing you for doubting me.”

Her fingers stabbed my neck. “No. Please. I need it.” She swallowed. “I need you.”

I pressed my lips to her ear, and her hair tickled my face. A softness when everything felt so hard and rough. “Beg me.”

Like a good submissive, she used her words, telling me how badly she wanted to get off, and then she kissed me, her actions backing up her pleading.

The sound of her was more than enough, but her kiss sent me straight over the fucking edge.

And as I hammered into her, my balls tightened, my movements turning hard, fast.

Relentless.

“Fuuuck!” I shouted against her mouth. “Hannah!”

“I’m coming!” she screamed, her voice breathless, as her wetness flooded my dick.

I wasn’t gentle when I took her lips.

I ravaged them, fought them, disciplined them for wanting to kiss her.

And while her mouth melded against mine, her other set of lips milked me, pulling the cum straight out of my cock.

“God-fucking-damn it,” I hissed.

We held on to each other until there was nothing left but air, and I hugged her for several extra moments before I carefully pulled out my cock and set her on the ground.

“Get dressed. We’re leaving now.”

I heard her gather her tank top and jacket and put them back on while I adjusted my pants, clasping the button and belt. And just when I thought she was dressed, something fell onto the ground, her phone lighting up the moment it crashed.

She picked it up, holding the screen in front of her face. “Shit.”

“Is there a problem?”

This was the first bit of light we’d had since we’d entered the alley, and her expression told me that whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“It’s a BFF 911.”

“A what?”

“I need to call my best friend. Something’s wrong.” She continued to hold the phone where it gave off enough glow that we could see each other. “Give me five minutes. That’s all I need, and then I’ll be right back. Don’t move, okay?”

“Hannah …” My cock was already getting hard again. “Hurry.”





FOUR





HANNAH





When a BFF 911 text came through from Oaklyn, it meant drop everything and call her. So, that was what I did the second I got out of the alley, rushing inside the bar.

“Oaklyn, what’s wrong?” I asked the moment she answered.

I really needed a drink, and as I waited for her to respond, I went over to the bartender and mouthed, Water.

Declan had fucked everything out of me, including the saliva in my mouth.

“Hannah, h-he broke u-up with me-e.”

I gripped the edge of the wooden bar, my eyes closing, my head falling forward. “What? No. Nooo!”

“He d-didn’t even h-have the decency to c-call me. H-he did it th-through text.”

“That asshole. I’m going to kill him.”

My heart ached for my best friend.

She loved Trevor.

Oh God, she loved him hard.

I lifted my head, opening my eyes, already wincing as I asked, “What did his message say?”

“You’re n-not going t-to believe it-t.”

But I would.

Six months ago, when they’d first started dating, every alarm went off in my gut, telling me that Trevor was bad news. I tried to warn my best friend. I’d done everything in my power to prepare her for a moment like this. But when moments like this came, my job wasn’t to remind her of those conversations we’d had. My job was to pick up the pieces that Trevor had smashed and so carelessly left behind.