Read The Dollhouse Society: Margo for Free Online Page A

tall as he was; we fit exactly together. He teased inside me a moment, nuzzling against the back of my neck, before lunging and burying all lovely eight inches of himself inside my wet heat.
    I bucked my hips to urge him on, told him what a good boy he was. He hugged me against him, molding his body against mine. There was something incredibly erotic about that, about just being held that way, immobile against him as he moved inside me in a series of long even strokes, going slow at first, but then faster and faster. I arched against him, closed my eyes, and thought, We belong to each other. We were made for each other.
    The idea thrilled and embarrassed me.
    Soon my belly muscles contracted, and as he started to pound me, really pound me the way I liked it, the wet, slapping sounds made me mewl in satisfaction. I felt a clitoral orgasm seize me and send out tremors like a shockwave through all my limbs. I gripped the desk tighter as my legs weakened and began to shake. The force of it made me tremble and growl through my teeth as I convulsed against him. I dug my fingernails into the wood and ground my pelvis back against Robert as we fucked like crazy. Seconds later, I came, and I brought him with me.
    He pumped into me a few times before coming with a lunge and a deep-throated grunt. “Oh, Margo,” he moaned, forgetting himself as he held me against him for a long moment, his cheek lying softly against my hair. I knew I would need to punish him for that. The riding crop tonight, perhaps. He pulled out and his come gushed down the insides of my legs.
    I rubbed myself against him. “Now you’ll need to clean that up,” I said.
    ***
    “Ms. Faulker,” may I speak to you for a moment?” Adam said as I passed his workstation on my way to taking a deposition from a CGI animator who was trying to lay claim to part of the profits from a recent Disney release.
    I checked my watch and said, “Can it wait until after lunch, Adam?”
    Adam stood there, a shaggy punk-style guy whose beanpole body never seemed to fit in his suits right. He always looked like he’d be happier wearing a concert T-shirt and ripped-up blue jeans. He had a terrible case of bed head this morning and a pencil stuck behind one ear. But since he was our tech guy, and damned good at what he did—not to mention a sweet guy all around—I never complained too much. You see, I really can put my Attila the Hun complex in the closet when I need to.
    When I saw his eyes, I knew this was serious business. My secretary headed toward me, probably intending to give me a head’s up on the other lawyer, but I stopped her with a hand on her shoulder and said, “Can you buy me five minutes, Lydia?”
    Lydia, who was a nicely manicured blonde who probably deserved sainthood for putting up with me for the past two years now, shook her head and said, “Sure thing, Ms. Faulker.”
    Unlike Robert, I had never gotten too chummy with her, or anyone at the office, and I wouldn’t allow anyone other than Robert himself to address me as Margo. I knew it would be far too easy to be reduced to “one of the girls in the office” that way, and I wasn’t “one of the girls.” I was head partner at Burkett Associates.
    After Lydia went off to buy me time, I walked over to Adam’s workstation and said in a low, conspiratorial whisper, “What did you find?”
    He gave me a troubled look from under his shaggy hair, but as his eyes started floating across the office, I said, “Eyes over here, and I want to know what’s going on right now, Adam.”
    His eyes snapped back around and he whispered, “I traced that ISP back to its source, Ms. Faulkner.” He didn’t go into details in case anyone was eavesdropping, but we both knew what he was talking about. “It came from a townhouse on the corner of Lexington Avenue.”
    I felt my heart beat a little faster. He passed me a computer printout with the address written on it. Robert’s address. The funds had been channeled from