Daddy Crush - Adriana Anders Page 0,20

I wonder, as I pull into the alley behind my house and park tight against the back fence. I glance up at her place—as I do every time I come home—and see a light on. I’ve never been upstairs, so I have no idea if that’s her room or someone else’s, but I’m dying to see her again. To test this newfound feeling.

Though I’m dead on my feet, I pull out my phone and fire off a quick text.

Waiting up?

Couldn’t sleep. :-) Too excited.

Dammit. I’m about to do something stupid.

Want company?

Only if it’s yours.

Squid okay, too?

Of course.

Be about five minutes—back door.

I ignore the voice telling me to slow this down, grab Squid from my place and give him a quick walk around the alley.

I take her steps two at a time, arrive at the back door as she opens it and scoop her in to my body. Squid slides by—probably to investigate the rest of the house. I honestly have no clue where he goes, because I notice what she’s wearing and go brain-dead. Nothing but a threadbare T-shirt that ends just past her ass with a faded cross over the heart. As if I needed convincing that I’m a lecherous old man.

“This T-shirt…” I pull at the hem.

“I know. It’s old and ugly.” She plucks it from my fingers. “Didn’t have time to change.”

“It’s… fucking divine.” I’m laughing as the words come out, punctuating my dive straight to hell, in the arms of this young woman.

“Come here.” I slide cold hands beneath the thin fabric, run them up, and stutter to a halt when there’s nothing there but smooth skin. My whispered “Fuck,” is reverent. It’s the way I felt as a kid the first time I opened one of my big sister’s Victoria’s Secret catalogues. My cock comes alive, angels sing, and I swear I’d die a happy man right now.

“Didn’t have time to put on underwear.”

Yes you did, I’d say, if I could talk, though it’s presumptuous and maybe a little too forward. Too forward? Christ, I’m a mess of contradictions.

All I manage is a long, low, Oh. It’s heartfelt, though. She has to know that I like it.

“Nobody’s ever…” She shivers, pressing her soft breasts to my chest. “Touched me there before.”

My cock’s pounding in my jeans. At this point, she’ll touch me and I’ll come. Which is what happens when teenagers first start messing around. It’s not what happens to forty-three-year-old men.

I plant my hands at her waist—over the cotton tee—and push her a foot away from me.

“First lesson…” I decide, on the fly, “…is dirty talk.” It’ll keep me from making a fool of myself.

Her brows go up, her lips slowly follow. “There’s a syllabus?”

Air huffs painfully from my lungs in an approximation of a laugh. “Making it up as I go.” I nod, firm in my decision. “But dirty talk’s a good first step.”

“I’m all ears.” Her grin’s enormous, so typical of this woman. Joyous and honest and real. It slays me.

“If we’re going to do this right.” And we are. “We have to take it slow, make it good for you. The way it should be.” No more frantic dry humping against restaurant doors. And if I come in my pants, so be it.

“Want a drink?”

“Water would be good.”

I follow her progress to the cupboard, my eyes glued to her face until I remember that I’m allowed to stare at those plump, strong thighs. Just looking satisfies a thirst I’ve denied myself these past few months.

“Know how you said you’ve wanted to…” She reaches high, revealing just the hint of those two half-moon curves and I can’t speak past the sudden dryness in my throat.

When she looks at me there’s expectation, but not an ounce of awareness of what’s happening inside me. This woman has no idea what she does to me. None.

“Crushing on you hard, Jerusha.”

Though her features don’t move, they change—become brighter, maybe. “Yeah?”

I nod, slow and in control. “You got any idea how gorgeous that ass is?”

Her jaw drops. “Is it?”

“I could tell, you know, that I’d like your body.” I step closer. “I just didn’t know how much.”

“Oh.” Her eyes slide down my front, to the floor, then back up. Acquiring somewhere along the way, a dirty little glint. “I think about you without clothes on all the time.”

Good thing she hasn’t filled those glasses yet, because if I were drinking right now, I’d spew all over the place. From under the rickety wood table, Squid woofs, as