CRAVING DADDY'S BEST FRIEND

Chapter Forty: The Guernseys Protocol

Abigail Macron

The digital chime of the laptop cut through the heavy, humid silence of the dining wing like a razor blade. The New York exchange was officially open, and a cascading wall of red text began to ripple across Caleb’s secondary monitor—the final, desperate countermeasures of my father’s legal vanguard.

Caleb didn't pull away immediately. He kept his heavy, post-adrenaline frame wedged tightly between my knees, his forehead resting against mine as our breath misted in the cool alpine air. The heat inside me was still pulsing, a thick, liquid ache that refused to settle even as the corporate clock reset to zero.

"The secondary injunction just went live in Manhattan," Caleb rasped, his voice a gravelly, exhausted vibration against my lips. He slowly slid out of me, a low, helpless groan escaping my throat at the sudden loss of his fullness. He didn't look at the screen. His dark, dilated eyes remained fixed entirely on the flush of my skin, his hand lingering on the curve of my hip as if checking the depth of his thumbprints. "They're trying to freeze the clearinghouse tokens. If you don't release the master encryption keys to the Guernsey trust within the next twenty minutes, the entire asset structure locks down."

I didn't answer. I lay back against the massive slate table, my blonde hair wild and splayed across the cold stone surface like a golden fan. The thin black lace of my bra was the only thing left of my corporate armor, and my legs were still draped heavily over the sides of the mahogany frame.

"Let them stall," I whispered, a slow, lawless smirk touching my lips. I reached up, my fingers tracing the hard, tensed line of his jawline, feeling the sharp prickle of his dark stubble. "Let the market wait for the queen, Caleb. We aren't on David's timeline anymore."

The absolute defiance in my voice hit him like a physical spark. The strategic coldness in his posture vanished, replaced instantly by that dark, predatory focus that always made my pulse strike a frantic rhythm. He didn't walk to the laptop. He slammed it shut with one rough, backhanded motion, sending the digital chime into absolute oblivion.

"You want to play with the vanguard's liquidity, Abby?" he growled, his voice dropping into that deep, lethal register meant only for the dark. "Then I'm going to take every single token you think you own."

He came back over me like a shadow. His large, rough hands aggressively gripped the front of my black lace bra, the fabric tearing with a sharp, violent snap under his brute strength. He tossed the ruined silk onto the floor, exposing my breasts completely to the blinding morning light that poured through the floor-to-ceiling glass.

The sudden rush of the alpine air hit my wet skin, my n*****s instantly tightening into hard, sensitive points. Caleb let out a low, ragged breath at the sight, his large, calloused palms cupping the undersides of the pale mounds, lifting them up like an offering. He squeezed the soft flesh with a bruising, territorial intensity that had my back arching off the slate table, a soft, needy whimper breaking from my throat.

He leaned down, his mouth crashing onto my left breast with a fierce, ravenous velocity. He didn't just touch—he devoured, his warm, wet tongue lashing in broad, heavy circles around the aureola before his lips closed tightly around the crown. He sucked on the sensitive peak with a deep, punishing drag, drawing the fullness of the breast into the heat of his mouth while his thumb aggressively rolled the opposite n****e into a hard, aching knot.

"Caleb... oh God," I sobbed, my fingers clawing desperately at the fine wool of his charcoal dress shirt, tearing at the buttons as the sheer, suffocating sensation sent a wave of liquid fire straight down into my core.

He moved to the right breast, his mouth hot and demanding, his rough stubble grazing the sensitive skin of my chest like sandpaper until I was shaking from head to toe. The contrast was devastating—outside the panoramic glass, the jagged peaks of the Swiss Alps stood silent and cold under the sun, while inside, the Chief Operating Officer of Macron Ventures was systematically stripping his partner's daughter of every shred of executive sanity.

While his mouth remained locked onto my chest, drinking in my echoing groans, his right hand slid down the smooth line of my stomach. His long, thick fingers parted the dripping folds of my core, finding my hypersensitive entrance already slick and burning from the encounter before.

He didn't offer a gentle transition. He drove two long fingers deep into my inner muscles, the unmitigated depth of the stretch making my thighs clamp instinctively around his forearm. He set a rapid, punishing pace inside me, his fingers mimicking the heavy, deep strokes of his body, turning the cold slate beneath my hips into a blur of raw friction.

"Look at me, kiddo," Caleb rasped, pulling his mouth from my breast, his breathing a ragged, animal rattle as he watched my face fracture with pure, unadulterated pleasure.

Before I could answer, he slid his massive frame further down the table, forcing my legs back until my knees were practically pinned against my shoulders. He dropped his head into the V of my thighs, his large hands gripping the backs of my knees with an unyielding, iron strength that left me completely exposed to the light.

Then, his warm, wet tongue hit my c******s.

A loud, shattered scream tore from my throat, completely swallowed by the high ceilings of the dining wing. It wasn't a gentle caress—it was a fierce, relentless assault. Caleb used his tongue with a broad, flat pressure, sweeping over the hypersensitive node with a devastating velocity while his fingers continued to pump deep inside my core, driving the internal coil tighter and tighter until my vision went completely black at the edges.

He sucked the tiny point deep into his mouth, his lips creating a powerful, rhythmic vacuum that had my pelvis jerking frantically against his face. The white-hot friction between my legs was spiraling entirely out of control, a beautiful, ruinous destruction that had me sobbing his name against the cold stone.

"Caleb, now... please, I'm going to break!" I cried out, my hands scratching helplessly at the smooth slate surface of the table for balance.

He didn't stop. He increased the speed of his tongue, his fingers curling deep inside my G-spot, extracting every ounce of compliance my body had left to give. The internal tension snapped like a cable under strain. The orgasm hit me like a physical melt down—a violent, blinding convulsion that had my inner muscles clamping down around his fingers in tight, frantic spasms as a loud, broken sob tore from my lungs.

At that exact microsecond, the master security console on the dining room wall flashed a brilliant, high-priority orange. The automated exterior gates of the estate were being overridden from an external terminal.