CRAVING DADDY'S BEST FRIEND

Chapter Thirty Four: The Liquidity Drift

Abigail Macron

The concrete pillar felt like a block of sub-zero ice against my spine, but the front of my body was trapped against a roaring furnace. Caleb’s hands stayed locked around my waist, his massive thumbs pressing deep into the soft skin just above my hip bones, anchoring my weight so effortlessly it felt like I was completely suspended over the mountain void.

"You stole the reserves?" I whispered, my voice a breathless tremble against his lips. The absolute, staggering scale of what he had just done made the room spin. "Caleb... if my father finds the routing tags—"

"He won't find them until the London opening bell at eight o'clock tomorrow morning," Caleb rasped, his eyes gleaming with a cold, triumphant madness that made him look utterly lethal in the dark. "And by then, the encryption keys will have cycled three times through the offshore servers in Guernsey. He’s looking for a corporate vanguard, Abby. He isn't looking for a ghost."

He didn't give me time to process the corporate treason. His mouth dropped back down to my neck, his lips dragging a burning trail along my jawline before his teeth bit down on the sensitive skin right below my ear.

A sharp, ragged whimper tore from my throat, my fingers digging desperately through his thick hair, pulling him closer. The freezing alpine wind continued to howl through the open balcony doors, blowing the transparent white curtains around us like a shroud, but inside the dark circle of his arms, the air was hot and suffocating.

With a sudden, impatient growl, Caleb dropped me back onto my feet. He didn't waste a second. He used his massive hands, he aggressively gripped the lapels of my tailored black blazer, ripping it backward off my shoulders and tossing it onto the slate floorboards. Next came the white silk blouse—he didn't bother unbuttoning the cuffs; he simply used his brute strength to pull the fabric down, exposing the pale fullness of my breasts to the silver mountain moonlight.

The sudden shock of the sub-zero air hitting my bare skin made me gasp, my n*****s instantly tightening into hard, sensitive points.

"Look at you," Caleb breathed, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that sent a violent spike of electricity straight to my core. He fell to his knees on the cold floor, his hands cupping the undersides of my breasts, lifting them up toward his face like an offering. "He locked you in a fortress, kiddo. But you still belong to the dark."

He leaned forward, his warm, wet tongue lashing in a broad, heavy circle around my left breast before his lips closed tightly around the crown. He sucked on the sensitive peak with a fierce, ravenous velocity, drawing me deep into the heat of his mouth.

I arched my back, my hands flying to his broad shoulders for balance as a loud, broken cry escaped my lips, completely swallowed by the roaring mountain wind. Caleb was relentless. He used his teeth with a gentle, punishing pressure that made me writhe against his face, his rough stubble grazing the sensitive skin of my chest like sandpaper until I was shaking from head to toe.

He shifted to the right breast, his mouth hot and demanding, drinking in my soft groans as if he were a starving man. The double assault of his hands squeezing my waist and his mouth devouring my chest had my knees buckling.

"Caleb... please," I sobbed, my fingers twisting into the fabric of his tactical jacket. "I can't... I need you."

He pulled his head back, leaving my skin wet and glistening in the moonlight. He stood up in one fluid, towering movement, his dark eyes dilated to the absolute edge of sanity. Without breaking eye contact, he unfastened his trousers, his heavy, seven-inch desire freeing into the space between us—rigid, and pulsing with a desperate, lawless demand.

Instead of driving into me on the bed, Caleb grabbed my waist and spun me around, forcing me down onto the cold, wide slate sill of the open balcony door. The freezing mountain air rushed over my bare back, while the rough stone bit into the skin of my thighs as he forced them wide apart over the threshold.

He didn't use a condom. He offered a gentle transition. He positioned himself at my dripping entrance, gripped my hips from behind without a bruising, unyielding strength, and drove himself into me with deep, ruthless, and devastating thrusting that hit me completely. At this point I left my mouth open to air. I couldn't shout because of Greta the house keeper.

A loud, jagged sobbing was exploding from my throat, my hands sprawling blindly against the freezing glass pane of the open door. The angle was impossibly deep, a sharp, possessive stretch that filled me so completely my vision cracked into streaks of silver and black shadow.

"Tell me who owns the liquidity, Abby," Caleb growled in my ear, his heavy chest slamming against my bare back with a brutal, rhythmic velocity that shook the glass frame. His hand shot forward, his large fingers gripping my jaw, forcing my face sideways so he could see the utter ruin in my eyes.

"You," I cried out, the word a broken surrender against the wind. "You own it, Caleb. Only you."

The confession broke the last shred of his legendary discipline. He increased the pace, his long, heavy strokes hitting me with a primal, force that echoed through the empty master suite. The risk was absolute—Greta and the Swiss security detail were just down the corridor—but the white-hot friction between my legs was spiraling entirely out of control, a beautiful, ruinous destruction that had my inner muscles clamping down around his length in tight, frantic spasms.

Caleb felt the internal coil snap. With a low, guttural groan that vibrated straight through my bones, he delivered three final, brutal thrusts, driving himself to the absolute hilt of my core.

The orgasm hit me like a ice melting on fire, a violent, blinding convulsion that had my back arching off the stone sill. At the exact same microsecond, Caleb stiffened completely against my back, his jaw clenched, a harsh, choked gasp tearing from his lungs as he surrendered to his own release, filling me with a heavy, pulsing heat that seemed to burn straight through to my bones.

We stayed completely frozen in the threshold for a long, suffocating minute, the freezing alpine wind howling over our tangled, sweat-slicked bodies as the adrenaline slowly began to recede.

Then, from the driveway directly beneath the balcony, the sharp, blinding sweep of headlights cut through the pine trees. The deep, heavy rumble of a caravan of armored SUVs echoed up the mountain road.

My father had arrived. The cou

ntdown had just hit zero.