Once or twice, the women who hung off Blake's arm mentioned something vague about just how close father and daughter seemed to be, but nothing ever came of it. If anyone had ever gotten even close to suspecting, they wouldn't be around for another second longer if Blake had anything to say about it and being Blake Carrington, he always did.

All of Devon's touches kept his nerves lit up, making sure he didn't relax so far that he might need some actual recovery time from their fucking, and he laughed inside at just how well his daughter could play him. A virtuoso, she was.

He hissed when Devon's nails pressed into his rear, then grinned. "How could I possibly say anything but 'of course I do'?" Reluctantly, Blake stepped back, sliding his now half-hard dick free of the teenager's pussy, the air cool on its slick girth. He dropped into his chair and crooked his finger at Devon. "Come and get your treat, little girl."