The Intern (The Dalton Family, #4)

by Marni Mann

To all the sexy, growly, dominant alphas like Declan Shaw. Thank you for making us scream. For making us wet. And for telling us to always keep our heels on …

“Can I ask you something? Even if it’s slightly inappropriate?” “Go on.” I couldn’t believe I had blurted that out. That my thoughts were so unhinged that I no longer had control over my mouth. “Do you make all your opposing counsel feel this way? If they’re women?” His thumb traced around his lips. “What way is that, Hannah?” My body hummed like he was breathing against it. My hands squeezed the glass so hard that I was surprised it hadn’t shattered. “Connected.” That wasn’t right. I needed to better describe this. “Like you’re on the verge of …” “Devouring them.”

“Hannah …” I looked at him again, knowing instantly it was a mistake. “Yes?” “If I were to slip a finger up the bottom of your skirt and touch you, would your pussy be wet?”

I took a step closer, halting directly in front of her, our bodies only breaths apart. I placed my palm against the wall above her head, her body caged beneath me. “Do you want me to make you scream so loud that everyone in the bar can hear you?” I leaned my face into her ear. “Is that what you want from me?”

Before I could decide, he stepped forward, his hands flattening on the table on either side of me, his face inches from mine. “Show me how good you can make yourself feel.” His focus was on my lips—the ones on my face. He was ogling, flirting with my pout, even if he wasn’t going to kiss me. “Show me how badly you want my fucking cock.”

“Suck my cock while you finger yourself.” There was so much vigor in that creamy droplet that I wanted it on my tongue. I wanted to mix his taste with the wine and brownies, adding to the desire that was keeping me so wet. But there was something else, something that was also taking over. “Declan”—I inhaled sharply—“I’m going to come.” “Do it with my dick in your mouth.” He held my chin, his thumb tracing my lips. “Let me feel it on your tongue.”

I took another glance at Hannah. She was running her fingers across the bottom of her mouth, back and forth, drawing the hen’s attention to that spot.

“You”—her tongue swiped my favorite lip—“are too much.” I felt the same way about her. Consumed. Over-fucking-whelmed. I was in competition with the clucking hen and the flower dude, and it seemed like every other motherfucker. I needed to claim what was mine. Mark her. Make sure she knew, without a question in her mind, whose cock belonged inside her.

“How wet are you …” My voice trailed off as I got my answer. “God-fucking-damn it.” My fingers dripped as I dipped inside her pussy, using my thumb to graze her clit. “What made you so wet, Hannah?” I made sure she felt each of my exhales across her face along with the hum of my tongue. “When I told you that you were coming to Wyoming with me?” I added a second finger, heading toward her G-spot. “When I told you to lock the door?” I kissed her hard. “Or when I told you that you were mine.”

“You want me to fuck the hate out of you?” “Yes.” She got even wetter. “Relentlessly.”

He circled my clit and stopped. “You know I’m not good at that.” “Try.” My hips bucked as he sank his finger inside me. “Try to be sweeter? Or try to constantly give you my face to ride?”

And suddenly, out of nowhere, there was a slap across my clit. It wasn’t hard. It didn’t make me yelp. It was just unexpected. But with it came tingles, igniting through my body, causing everything inside me to become electric. He did it again. And again. The swish of air, the slight sting from contact, was just enough to make me shudder.