Breach of Contract (Kavanagh Family Romance Book 1)

by Elizabeth Miller

  I force myself to focus on the Spears case and the latest injunction Marjorie Blume has filed. She’s muddying up the waters by leaking reports of MoMo’s lengthy conviction record. What he thought was past tense is front and center. It’s my job to retrain the focus on Blume versus freedom of speech, and not his penchant for cars that don’t belong to him.

  I drill into the details. Each hour spent living through Blume’s history has my temper rise by ten degrees. At the end of the day, I’m hot. She’s not a saint, and it sticks in my craw she’s made a living making people believe she is.

  Focusing on Wentworth for days and Blume for what feels like ages has my blood pressure off the charts. Life is full of complications and I’m in a punishing mood because of them.

  “Mr. Kavanagh,” Lisa says from the door. “It’s seven and I’m heading out. Do you need anything before I go?”

  “I do—” Ms. Walker arrives behind her with the devil in her eye and a fairly well-hidden smirk. She peeks around my secretary to stare me down with a secret only the two of us share. “I do not,” I amend.

  “I brought the research you requested, sir.” Maisie holds out an envelope—a familiar one, stamped confidential.

  My gaze jerks from the document to her mouth: plump lips brightened with peach gloss. Christ. My chest aches. Goddamn heart. I smooth it under the pretense my tie is out of line.

  “Enjoy your weekend, Lisa. I’ll finish with Ms. Walker and close up,” I say while my gaze remains trained on Maisie.

  I wave her in as Lisa escapes before eight on a Friday night. As the automatic lock latches on the door, we stand and stare with silence swirling around us like the promise of what’s to come. Evening sun warms my office, but Maisie’s nipples pebble into distinct points. They draw my attention to the ripe lushness of her breasts pressed together in a skintight button-up and I can’t think of anything but her naked flesh. Because I’ve seen it. I’ve watched her writhe in ecstasy, squeezing the life from my dick.

  In an instant, my mind retreats from the memory and drills into sharp focus. There’s no reason why she’s over there and I’m here and we aren’t touching. “Did you read it?” I ask.

  Maisie nods. “I did. And I signed it too.”

  After this shit with Wentworth, it’s important that we’re on the same page, that she’s honest with me about her feelings. She must give permission. Say it out loud and reassure me I’m not the only one suffering. “Tell me, Ms. Walker. What do you want from me?” My voice is low and jagged from need. Something my body knows all too well as it stiffens at the mere sight of her.

  “I want you to fuck me like your dirty little secret, Mr. Kavanagh.” She breathes out my name as if it’s a wish, a fucking plea for my cock to meet the back of her throat.

  Lord, have mercy. Who am I to deny her? If she wishes to know the type of justice I deliver, then so be it. “Come forward for your sentence, peach.”

  Her chest lifts on a deep breath as she saunters over with an exaggerated sway to her hips. It reminds me to punish her for making me want. Want her. Want her pussy, and to taste the sweet juices that flow from her when she’s primed and ready.

  She drops the envelope on my desk and then walks through a streak of late evening sun, her gaze sparking a piercing blue. For one second, I fear she sees how badly I need her and it forces an edge to my tone. “Drop to your knees. Hands behind your back.”

  She sinks down with a gratifying lick to her lips. Sweet Jesus. Her submission triggers my need for this soft, beautiful woman to bend to all my demands. I take her hair, wrapping it around my wrist and hand, tugging until she looks at me. My fingers make quick work of my belt, zipper, and pants before pulling my semi-hard cock out so it juts in front of her mouth.

  “Is this your first time?”

  Shifting her gaze from my dick to my eyes, she takes a moment and then nods. “Teach me.”

  Good God, I will. “Lick.”

  She casts her lids down, hiding her response. Doubts surface: should I be softer? Is she hesitant? Does she regret signing the contract? But then she smiles so broad a dimple digs into her cheek, and she leans in. With her arms pinned willingly behind her, she swipes my worries away with her tongue, licking from the base of my shaft to the top. Swirling the tip around and under the purpling ridge of my crown, she retreats nine inches to do it again. My good, tasty peach. She follows directions so well. She licks, only licks, lapping at me until I growl, “Suck,” and thrust my hips forward so she has no choice but to take me in.

  Our groans collide when I hit the back of her throat, and I pause for more than a heartbeat to feel her swallow around my aching dick. Soft heat—I could get lost in the hollows of Maisie Walker’s slick, wet mouth. Ah, fuck. Sensation rushes down my spine. I hold her there. With both fists buried in the silk of her curls, I clamp down and stroke into the welcome abyss of want. I fuck her mouth like it’s the first time a gorgeous girl has offered to suck me off.

  I take.

  I demand.

  I plow into her without regret and shudder as each drive forward has my cock swelling to a painful size. She stretches her lips around my girth, and I can feel every strained ridge, every vein on the brink of bursting.

  I pull out, holding the base of my shaft as it throbs above the clamp made from my fingers. Maisie, ah dear Jesus, Maisie slips her hand between her legs. She looks up with big, unashamed eyes as I use the toe of my shoe to assist her skirt past the apex of her thighs. Fuck. The most beautiful woman in the world is on her knees, rubbing one off right in front of me.

  “No you don’t, my filthy girl.” I bend and bite her lips, lick deep, lashing strokes into her mouth to taste myself on her tongue. “Your pleasure belongs to me. Do you understand?”

  I take her whimper as a yes, but I demand the word. “Answer me.”

  She stares at me through her long, black lashes even as her rebellious fingers sway back and forth. “Yes, sir.”

  God, her voice—it’s low and rough and sexy as all fuck from swallowing me whole.

  “Up.” I tug that hand away from her pussy. Once she’s on her feet, I turn and bend my beautiful nymph over my desk. I’m fully clothed, my dick sprung from the confines of my pants, and there’s something primal about not waiting to strip, needing to feel her tight pussy so badly that time doesn’t allow for anything but lifting the hem of her skirt and gathering it around her waist. A growl rips through me. “A thong.” A scrap of material I rip off with the snap of my wrist. “My dirty fucking girl, did you walk around all day thinking about when you would feel my cock deep inside you?” Kicking her legs apart, I’m assaulted with her scent, a mix of arousal and honeyed musk.

  Her whimper speaks to me. I’m torn between eating her and sinking into her tight, wet channel that beckons me home. Ultimately, relief wins over hunger. Later, later I’ll take my time getting to know her every fold intimately with my tongue. When I have time to lie with her in a bed and draw lazy circles on her stomach as I taste all the flavors of her cunt.

  Maisie grips the edge of my desk, stretched out as she waits.

  I run my fingers over hers. “Don’t let go or I’ll turn you over my knee and spank you until you learn to follow directions.”

  She nods. I rear back and let my palm connect with a round cheek. Her breathing picks up, but she hums and inches toward my hand as it rubs the sting away. Damn this woman. She wants that too. Wants the pain to spread into a pleasure she’s only beginning to know.

  “Use your words, Ms. Walker. I won’t guess about your feelings. Promise me you’ll be explicit with your communication.” I rub the color blooming on her ass and then smack her again when she takes too long to answer.

  “I will.”

  “Beautiful peach, your first assignment is to read through your contract. Out loud.”

  “Now?” she squeaks.

  I open the envelope, taking quick inventory of a medical document that clearly states a clean bill of health and that she’s on birt
h control. My girl is ready for me and after adjusting the contract under her nose, I point to where she can begin. “Now, Maisie. Don’t let your tone waver. Read it nice and clear so I know you understand.”

  She looks over her shoulder and damn this woman, damn her and the smile that lights her eyes. “And if I don’t?”

  “Then we shall learn the number of spankings it takes before my dirty girl has to stand on the subway.”

  I think she purrs. For sure she wiggles her ass in search of my palm or my cock or both.

  “Begin,” I say, and spread apart her cheeks. Her swollen pussy glistens bright pink from wet and want, and I won’t deny her one more second. Not one. I step forward, cock in hand and run it from her swollen clit to her soaking entrance.

  “Jayce,” she hisses.

  I stop.

  My heart explodes.

  It’s the first time she’s said my name. Aired in that breathy, low tone that sets my blood on fire. I grab her hair, wrenching her head back and around to find her mouth with mine. My lips are a machine, twisting, churning, driving moans from her body as we become one an inch at a time. There is no going back. No way to retreat from this ludicrous need to own every part of Maisie Walker.

  “Read it,” I grind between my teeth, withdrawing from her silken heat.

  “In consideration of the promises . . .” she begins.

  Bent over her back, I slam into her. Leaving little time for her to acclimate to the invasion, I do it again. And again. I force her to recite each stipulation. Any tonal variation results in a smack to her luscious ass that reddens to a beautiful pink under my hand. She’s so wet and hot and tight, my hand rounds to her throat, and I lose a little bit of my mind with each thrust in and the long glide out. Every syllable breaks through her pouting lips in a steady cadence. Until provision number six. Her pitch goes haywire, so I spank her ass and wrench her off the desk and up against the window. “Look at me.”

  She blinks, and her blurred irises struggle to focus. I need her coherent because I’m losing it, losing the ability to think or care about anything but making her come. My control slips. It’s slipping like a beast let loose to roam and conquer.

  It’s gone.

  Her vision clears and she smiles, a lazy grin affirmed by the brush of her fingers over my cheek. “You feel so fucking good,” she whispers.

  “Oh, Maisie.” I slam my lips on hers and thrust forward, balls-deep in an instant. And then it’s over. I can’t stop. I take her hard, harder, stroking deep and long and then short and fast, driving her into the glass pane with my fingers digging into the soft skin above her hips. I’m rough, but I want it rougher. I know she’ll bruise, and the beast within me growls and slams harder, marking her as mine. She throws her head back, and I lick and bite the sweet salt from her flushed neck, hungrier for her now than I was yesterday or this morning. Nothing is good enough. More the beast howls. More. Give me fucking everything.

  “Please,” she begs and drops her forehead to my shoulder.

  I stop. Panting, I fist her curls and force her attention to me. “Out loud, Ms. Walker. What do you want?”

  In an instant, her hand is in my hair, tugging so hard my neck snaps back. “Make me come. Make me fucking come, Jayce Kavanagh.”

  Goddamn this woman. I’m falling into her—every part was made just for me. I lean in and push my tongue against her lips, and she opens so her tip can play with mine, a light sweeping sensation to go along with her breasts pressed tight to my chest. With my eyes open, I watch hers round as I sink back inside her slick pussy, my hand reaching between us.

  “You’re going to come with me, my beautiful peach. Come on my cock. Let me feel you.”

  She whimpers and I rub. She swivels, and I drive forward. We watch each other and hold on. Her arms wrap around my neck and head. Mine round her waist as we work together and oh shit, a blinding pleasure starts in my gut and shoots down my spine, exploding out of me one hot stream at a time and into Maisie’s quivering body. She swallows my groan, muting it with a kiss so deep I feel it in a bright burst as my heart shatters.

  I die the most exquisite death.

  Chapter Ten

  “Lost in Japan” 3:20

  Maisie

  I KNEW EXACTLY what I’d wanted when I walked toward Mr. Kavanagh’s office with the contract in hand. It’d been days since I’d seen him, days since I left him at the bar and the following morning when I’d read and agreed to all of his stipulations. I memorized every line, every word. And then he was gone. He left me alone to wonder where he was—how did he spend his time? Was he with Ash Crawford? When I arrived at his door today and Lisa was leaving, I’d thought—this is perfect. I’ll show him exactly who he’s been missing. Me.

  Now, my nose is buried in the damp curve of his neck. I’m wrapped up in him with my body pulsing from the outrageous orgasm he just gave me and he’s still all I want—I think. After he fucked me into raw feeling, I can see now my desire is not just for his extra-long penis or his mind. I like Jayce Kavanagh.

  I like him a lot.

  And I’d like to know more. The longing to learn his darkest secrets and his brightest dreams coils inside me like a snake. Everything he wakes up for in the morning and falls asleep thinking about at night are nuances to his genius mind I’d like access to. I want to straighten his tie when it pulls away from the tack meant to keep it in place, kiss the corner of his mouth when it turns down, and hold his hand just because.

  But this, whatever is between us, is just sex. He made that clear when I followed him down the hall at Kav’s. Romantic dinners and bouquets left on my desk are not part of the contract. So I stamp the pang beating like sonar in my heart and breathe in cinnamon and leather, my Jayce musk, and welcome his lips when he pulls my head back for a kiss. His mouth is hard but soft at the same time. Our tongues join the fun and we play, stroking and humming at the pleasure that easily ignites between us.

  He groans, and his dick twitches. “You’re going to kill me.

  “Mm.” I lick his lips and pull away with a smile. “Death by climax sounds like the perfect way to go.”

  Time stands still as he stares. Streaks of light and shadow blend on his face as twilight comes to pass outside his wall of windows. Seconds become a minute as he seems to study my features until he shakes his head infinitesimally.

  “Tell me out loud, Mr. Kavanagh.” I lean back with his hands still supporting my ass and my arms dangling around his shoulders. “I won’t wonder about your thoughts. Be . . . what word did you use? Ah, yes. Be explicit in your communication.”

  He pinches my backside, hard. But it’s his smile that pushes the breath from my lungs. It lights his whole face, crinkling the corner of his eyes. I hang on for dear life as he swings us around and deposits me on his desk once more. Our bodies are joined and as he slips free, so slowly—an exquisite sensation that ends with an empty void—I sigh, hating how lonely I feel even though his finger tilts my chin.

  “If you must know, I was appreciating your beauty as painted by the evening sun and wondering how you would look in the morning, drinking coffee by the window, with nothing on but the scent of our sex.”

  My heart stops. No, wait—there it goes again, stumbling into a hard beat behind my ribs. He’s better than any peanut butter and jelly sandwich I’ve ever had. “So Jayce Kavanagh is sweet and sexy? How does that even happen?”

  The brow over his right eye lifts. “I can assure you, Ms. Walker, my thoughts were not sweet when the picture was forming in my mind.”

  “Right.” I swallow the hope I felt moments ago. Just sex.

  “Don’t move,” he says, stepping away to tuck his dick in his pants.

  “Not going anywhere, promise.” I motion to my exposed vagina, and his smile is back in full force.

  “I like that look on you, Maisie,” he calls over his shoulder on his way to the bathroom.

  I’m sure he does. Sex is what I’ve signed up for. To remind myself of the particulars,
I turn to straighten the documents on his desk. At some point while we fucked, the papers became mixed with another manuscript, and I have to read through details to pull the pages apart.

  Marjorie Blume’s name is easy to spot, as are fascinating tidbits of her youth.

  “Interesting read,” Jayce says, nudging my thighs apart with his hips. I let my legs fall open and grip his bicep as he presses the washcloth against my swollen pussy. My eyes fall closed. He’s tender, too soothing for a girl who was just thinking about romance and flowers, so I make myself look at him and move the subject to his case.

  “It is. What are you going to do with the information?”

  “Have a meeting with her attorney.”

  “Can I attend?”

  Jayce steps away, tossing the cooled cloth in the sink, and then he returns to help me off the desk. He stares as I shimmy my skirt to my knees, his pupils dilating as I do. I shiver from the heat in his eyes and consider removing my clothes altogether to see what would happen. Would he growl and grab me, or admonish my greed? I’m not sure I could take rejection. I settle on righting myself as he leans over to collect both sets of papers.

  “Would you like to watch him squirm while he tries to explain this shit away?” he asks instead of answering my question. “His client has been on a holier-than-thou rant for twenty years, when before that, Blume did everything she’s condemned the public for.” He taps the documents and then folds them in thirds while reciting Marjorie’s misdeeds. “Arrested at seventeen for possession of narcotics, married and divorced before twenty, and again before twenty-five. And let’s just say her birth control method was not along the line of pro-life. The number of procedures she’s had is staggering. I could go on, but I’m starving.”