Dirty Working Hero (Hard Working Hero 2)

“Mm,” I moan, biting my bottom lip and pulling it into my mouth.

I'm not going to last very long, not like this. My clit is rubbing his lower belly, bringing me to the very edge of insanity.

“I'm gonna come,” I say, my voice a whisper as our skin slaps against each other and our breathing becomes loud as thunder.

“Come for me, baby, come on my cock.” His hands glide down my sides, gripping my hips as I fuck him faster and faster.

There's nothing I can do to stop it. The orgasm rushes through my body like a tidal wave, stealing me away. Shivers radiate through my muscles, making my back go stiff, and my stomach clench tight.

Hardin grunts, pressing down on my hips as he thrust into me one last time. His cock pulses violently, throbbing as forcefully as my pulse in my veins. Falling forward, I lay my head on his chest as I try to catch my breath.

“There,” he says, softly running his fingers through my hair. “Now you really have something to think about tomorrow.”

We both start laughing as I push myself up. “I guess I do.”

Tonight really was special. I got to see a side of this man that only makes me like him more. I want to keep learning about him. I want to know all his secrets, and I want to him mine.

This is new for me. Never in my life have I felt so compelled to share so much of myself with someone. With Hardin, it's not just about wanting to, it's about needing to. I need him to learn, to see, to understand me inside and out.

“See you later,” I say, giving him a kiss and walking to my driveway.

He stays until I'm safely at my door. I watch him leave until I can't see his taillights anymore. Quietly, I sneak into my house and head to my room. I hit my bed like a ton of bricks, and fall asleep easier than I have in a long time. There's no tossing and turning. There's no wandering mind. I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

Morning comes far too quickly. The sun is beating on my face and my alarm is going off, beeping like a rooster on a farm.

Slapping the button, I drag myself out of bed, and into the shower. I've never felt such little desire to get up in the morning. Towel drying my hair, I run a brush through it, letting the still wet tips drip on my back.

I slide open my closet doors, and start pushing clothes around. The thought of spending all day inside, wearing heels and a dress suit, is slowly killing me inside. I want the sun on my skin and the fresh air in my lungs. I want the grit of dirt on my hands and to smell the earthy scent as I do the only thing I've really loved, gardening.

It's not happening. Get over it.

Sucking in a large breath of air, I let it out slowly, finally just grabbing an outfit. The black pencil skirt hugs my hips, and the white blouse itches my skin. I button the blouse up to the top and wrap a bright red scarf around my neck to add a pop of color.

My hair is still slightly wet as I pull it back into a French twist and secure it to my head. A little blush and mascara to finish it off, and I'm out the door.

My father is already gone, his car isn't in the garage. He's always been the type of guy who goes in early and stays as long as he needs to. If there's one thing I can say about my father, it’s that he works hard and deserves everything he has because of it.

“Millie!” my mother calls out to me as I'm climbing into my car.

“Yeah?”

“Don't embarrass your father today. Do what he says, please.” She crosses her arms and leans against the doorway.

“Right,” I say, rolling my eyes.

I don't know why she has to say things like that. It's like appearance is more important than anything else in this world. I just don't know what she thinks I'm going to do.

Am I that much of a letdown that they think they need to dictate my entire life? I guess being the daughter of a prominent lawyer is the only thing that matters. Not what I want. Not doing the things I love. I'm always going to be seen as the daughter of Samuel Chambers.

I drive around the parking lot for a few minutes looking for a space. Finally I park, but my feet feel like lead. My hands are still around the wheel, and every muscle in my body is tense with dread.

My eyes drift to the seat beside me, landing on the leather bag. It's empty right now, but I know when I leave today, it'll be filled with files that my father will want organized or sorted in some fashion.