She wound both of her legs around him this time. He brushed his lips over one of her heated cheeks as he thrust inside her. To the hilt. Oh God, yes. “Talk to me, Allison.”

She stroked his back. “Fuck me, Trevor.”

There was no place he’d rather be than inside Allison Campbell. He felt the walls of her pussy clench around his cock. Then he ran his lips across hers. “Do that again. Tighten up.”

She did as she kissed him back. Tighten and release. Over and over until he thought he’d go mad from it.

Then he began moving, slowly at first, pulled out almost completely, then stroked back inside of her. Heaven. In and out, faster and faster.

Allie’s soft moans had him straining. He wanted to hold off for as long as he could.

She reached down and touched herself as she looked into his eyes.

“Filthy details, Allison. Tell me what you like.”

“I like…” She licked her lips and continued to move her fingers in small circles over her clit.

“Tell me,” he ground out.

“I like it when you take control. And when you fuck me hard.”

He obliged and slammed his cock into her, retreated, then did it again. “Come,” he ordered. He couldn’t hold out much longer. “Come for me, Allison.”

She did, bowing her back, shoving her breasts upward. He watched them sway as he continued to pound into her.

He felt his balls tighten, and came. It was intense and powerful, draining him as he continued to pump. Even after he was empty, he thrust a few more times, burying his face in her neck. Her long hair tickled his cheek and he smiled against her damp skin.

She ran her hand up and down his back, kissed his temple, smoothed the hair away from his face with her other hand. He lay on top of her, unable to move.

How long they stayed that way, he had no idea. He didn’t care. He felt too good.

Finally, he roused himself and leaned back as he gazed down at her. She was asleep. He tried not to jostle her when he stood, but she opened her eyes and stared up at him. Her gaze tracked him as he removed the condom, wrapped it in a tissue, and tossed it in the trash.

He walked back to the sofa and, bending down, pushed aside a strand of her hair. “Are you all right, love?”

“Mmm hmm.” With a smile, she stretched her arms over her head. His eyes strayed to her breasts once more.

“I don’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed.” When she sat up, he straightened, giving her some room to move. She reached down and grabbed her clothes. As she pulled on the thin, white cotton shirt, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She stood and hiked the shorts up her legs, over her hips.

She glanced over at him, taking in his face, chest, finally lowering to his cock, which had started to rise again. “Are you going to get dressed?” Her eyes remained fixed.

“Haven’t decided.”

“But you said Arnold frowns on nudity.”

He swiveled his head left and right. “I don’t see him around, do you?”

She looked like she was fighting a smile. Crossing her arms, she angled her head. “Are you telling me that you’re going to prance around the house buck naked?”

He looked down his nose at her. “I’ve never pranced in my life, nor do I intend to start now.” A slow smile crossed his lips. “But the naked bit, well, that sounded like a challenge to me.”

Chapter 11

The next morning, Allie cracked one eye and glanced at the clock. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept until nine o’clock. ��Shit.” She sat up, the covers falling from her naked breasts. She’d promised to make French toast for Brynn.

She glanced down, saw a bruise along the side of one breast. “Trevor.” She’d spent most of last night having lots and lots of mind-blowing sex with him. His tongue wasn’t just good for smartass remarks. She smiled at the memory. It was really good at other things too.

She glanced over at the side of the bed where Trevor had spent the night. Picking up the pillow, she shook out the indentation where his head had been and mussed up the covers. She didn’t want Frances to know he’d been here. Silly but true. She was embarrassed. A mistress who didn’t want the help to know she was boinking their boss.

She hopped up and scanned the room for her clothes. The robe lay on the floor by the door. Her sash lay half under the bed. She jerked on the robe and snatched the tie around her waist, then bent over and peeked under the dust ruffle. How the hell did her T-shirt and shorts wind up there?

A knock sounded at the door and Frances walked in with a tray. “Oh good, miss, you’re awake.”

Allie dropped the dust ruffle like it was on fire. “Good morning.”

Frances set the tray on the table next to the bed and bustled over to the curtains, pulling them back, letting the bright morning light spill into the room.

“Thanks, Frances, but you didn’t have to bring this to me.”

“Mr. Blake thought you might like to have a lie in this morning. He said you had quite a late night.”

Her cheeks flooded with heat. British bastard. Was he going to put it on a mobile billboard and parade it up and down the Strip?

“Said he kept you up late, watching a movie. Loves those old movies, he does. Just like his grandfather, God rest his soul.”

Allie’s shoulders sagged in relief at hearing his excuse. Wait, grandfather? “Yeah, that was sad.” She cast her eyes to the ground. She felt a little bad, playing Frances like this, baiting her for information on Trevor, but he never talked about himself.

“Oh, I know. Gutted, Mr. Blake was. Like peas in a pod, they were.”

“Did his parents attend the funeral?”

“Mrs. Mags attended, of course.” Frances stepped into the bathroom. She emerged a minute later with an armful of dirty towels.

Allie cast her eyes around the room, trying to think of what to ask next. “So, Trevor spent a lot of time with his grandpa?”

“Almost every holiday. Not like he had much choice, mind you.”

“What about his parents? Why didn’t he spend holidays with them?”

The older woman stiffened her spine. “I don’t gossip. You’ll have to ask Mr. Blake if you want those kinds of details.”

“I did. You know he’s never going to tell me. At least give me a hint. Or tell me why they got divorced in the first place.”

Frances pursed her lips as though she’d sucked on a lemon and walked toward the door.

“What did Nigel do to Trevor?” Allie’s words were rushed.

Frances took a deep breath and turned around. “I’ll tell you this. There’s a reason why Mr. Blake don’t like seeing his parents none, but it’s his tale to tell. Mrs. Mags expects you downstairs in half an hour. Going shopping for the wedding.” With her head held high, she left the room.

***

Allie sipped her coffee and reached for her phone. She texted Brynn, saying she was sorry for missing breakfast but she would be home after school.

Brynn texted back that she had a club meeting and was going to study for a test with a friend afterward. Allie hoped it was true. Her little sister needed to socialize more. Brynnie seemed far too isolated these days.

Allie still planned to stop by the house, maybe throw together a quick dinner and stick it in the fridge. Her dad wasn’t known for his cooking skills, and Allie hated the thought of them eating sandwiches while she dined on Mrs. Hubert’s four-course meals.

After drinking her coffee, Allie stepped into the shower. As she stood beneath the warm spray of water, lathering her sex-sore body, thoughts of last night came pouring back. Trevor between her legs, Trevor touching her, sucking her, entering her from behind while she held on to the headboard for all she was worth. The last two days made up for the last four sexless years.

She donned a pretty bra and panty set to match her red-and-white polka-dot sundress. She slipped on a pair of kitten-heeled sandals and made her way to the foyer, where Mags waited for her.