Give Me Grace

By: Kate McCarthy

To Tammy.

This book wouldn’t exist without you.

Thank you for standing beside me on Casey’s journey.





I woke to a hot, wet tongue stroking my cock with enthusiasm. It had been too long, weeks maybe, since I had the time for this kind of outlet. My groan was loud and deep. I felt the girl behind the busy mouth smile around my erection. She was good and she knew it.

I opened eyes bleary from a wild night and watched her work me over. My breathing got heavier and my hips thrust upward, plunging deep inside her willing mouth. She responded in kind, swirling her tongue and sucking harder. Hazel eyes glanced up at me, gauging my reaction.

Bingo, I thought when her name came to me. I gave her a lusty grin. “Morning, Morgan.”

Her mouth popped off and her eyes brightened. “Morning, Casey.” Her raspy voice indicated her booze consumption last night had been just as excessive as mine.

She sat up on her knees, her perky tits bouncing as she grabbed me with both hands. My cock flinched at her iron grip, but it cleared my head long enough to remember just who Morgan was.

Ah shit.

The Florence Bar. Vodka shots. Mitch Valentine introducing me to the newly appointed detective in the cybercrime division over at Sydney City Police. We had a policy at our firm: no fucking any female from any government agency we had a working relationship with. Morgan being in my bed had fucking disaster written all over it, pun intended.

Then I thought about that worn file in the locked drawer of my office. I had questions—ones that Mitch informed me on numerous occasions he wasn’t able to answer. No one could, because all the information pertaining to the case had been wiped. All I had was an old case report that listed information I refused to believe was correct.

I needed answers. Real ones. So when Mitch introduced me to Morgan at the bar last night, I was just drunk enough to decide that maybe she could help. Morgan worked in cybercrime for fuck’s sake. They were a division notorious for closing ranks to outsiders, so when her eyes had flared wide with obvious interest, I knew just the way to get those answers. So what if it made me an asshole for using her. After too many years of getting nowhere, I had no other option and nothing else left to go on.

No new information.

No leads.

Nothing.

Looking up into Morgan’s face, I knew there was no other choice. She was a lead in retrieving the wiped information. It wasn’t like fucking a sexy girl was a hardship. I stretched out an arm and grabbed for a condom off my bedside table.

There’s always a choice, Casey.

Fuck off, I growled to the voice in my head. I held up the foil packet between my thumb and forefinger. For this, there is no choice.

Morgan stroked me a few more times with her iron grip. Waves of heat brought me to the edge, and I gritted my teeth as she let go and snatched it from my hand. Peeling it open, Morgan bit her bottom lip as she rolled it down my cock.

Breathing heavy, I watched her straddle me, positioning my head at her opening. Glancing at me, she paused. “Why me?”

“What?” She chose right this very moment, when I’m trying not to bust a fucking nut, to initiate a conversation? I fought against the urge to thrust upwards.

“Look at you, Casey.” Her eyes roamed over my face and chest with admiration, assuring me that she was indeed, looking at me. “You’re the guy that has it all. You could’ve had anyone in that bar, male or female. Why me?”

The guy that had it all? Jesus.

Was that all she cared about—that she was fucking someone she thought was hot and loaded? I hated superficiality, but she would likely hate the truth more. Why her? Because I was drunk, and when I left the bar, not only was she the nearest female willing to leave with me, she was also someone who could do something for me.

“Casey?” My eyes flicked from her well-endowed chest back to her face, and in that instant I felt hollow. I saw the love my best friend, Travis, had for his wife, Quinn. I watched how every touch between the two brought a light to their eyes. They put each other’s happiness before their own. They mattered to each other.

I wanted that.

I gave myself a mental slap.

Remember the file, Casey.

“Why you?” I repeated. Grabbing her hips in a grip that would no doubt bruise, I thrust up and into her body, and I hated myself for it. She cried out, and I couldn’t help the growl of pleasure when she clenched around me, squeezing me. “Because I like a girl who knows what she wants and goes for it.”

At least that was the truth. She saw me at the bar, she wanted me, and she went for it.

Morgan’s head lolled backwards and she moaned. Assuming I’d supplied a satisfactory answer to her ill-timed question, I rolled her over and ground my hips into her body.

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