Daddy Crush - Adriana Anders Page 0,49

“I want you.”

“Yeah.” His breathing goes erratic, his eyes a little lost. He’s close, and my God, I can’t look away. When his left hand reaches for me, I shift close, giving myself over to his release.

I arch my body, offer it up to him.

He comes—Oh, God, finally—teeth gritted, jaw hard, eyes fierce and possessive.

The first spurt lashes my breast, then another, and another. I give up my own race to the finish and rub his spend into my skin, over my nipples, down to my belly. He growls, releasing one final pearlescent white jet onto his knuckles. Without thinking, I lean forward and lap it up.

Before I finish, he grabs me and hauls me onto his lap.

Karl

“I can’t get enough of you,” I mumble against her cheek, her ear, her mouth. I’m wrecked. “Just can’t.” My brain’s too numb to produce coherent sentences. My arms wrap her up in a solid cocoon. It’s all I have, right now, muscles and bones and whatever protection they give.

In the silence that follows, I fully recognize that this might be more than I’d bargained for.

She sighs, I tighten my hold. “Fuck, Jerusha. Fuck.”

“Agreed.” Her laughter shakes us both. After a bit, she twists against me until I let her go enough to put us face to face. “Was that…” She bites her lip in an expression that I recognize as something like insecurity. “Did I do okay?”

The bottom falls out of my stomach. “Kidding me? Never felt this good in my life.”

“So I did it right.”

“Amazing.” I smile. “We’re good together.”

Her lips curl up. “Told you.”

And yeah, in this about-face, backward, opposite world, filth is beauty, obscenity’s innocence, and our loss of control is the strongest bond I’ve ever forged with another human being.

It’s not just sex. It’s—

My mind goes blank when she stretches up and kisses me.

After a while—I don’t know, a couple minutes? Long enough that I’m half-hard again—she makes one of those contented cat sounds and stretches. I want her, except this time it’s not the pounding erection I’ve had the last few times we’ve been together, but the desire’s there. I have a feeling it’ll always be there when she’s around.

Somebody’s belly growls—hers, maybe. “Hungry?” I ask.

“Oh, yes. I’ve been working so hard to get the show ready, I keep forgetting to shop. And eat.”

“I’ll cook you dinner.”

“Really?” Her eyes light up. “What will you make?”

I laugh, like really let go and laugh. “What do you want me to make?”

“Oh, something extremely fancy.” After a moment of what appears to be deep thought, she yells, “Hotdogs!”

“Thought you said fancy.”

“I was kidding.”

“Kidding about fancy or hotdogs?”

“Surprise me. I’ll eat whatever you make.”

“Deal.” We decide to meet back at my place at seven, which gives me time to run to the store while she can finally take the bath she’d been about to fill when I arrived. After a long, slow kiss that almost leads to another round, I head to the front door.

“Karl.” She stops me, something different about her voice. “Would you, um…get condoms while you’re out?”

I open my mouth to ask if she’s sure and change my mind.

She’s sure. I know that now. This woman knows what she wants.

And apparently that’s me.

I nod with a wicked smile and take off before I undress her again.

20

Are you gonna go my way

Jerusha

I’m at his door at seven sharp, carrying the throw I made for him and a bouquet I made up from stuff in my back garden. It’s probably too much. Or not enough? Or weird?

Before I can talk myself into running the gifts back home, I knock. Squid woofs and Karl yells something. Even through the wood, the low rumble of his voice makes me shiver.

After a brief wait, he opens the door, letting a waft of garlicky air out. There’s bacon, too. And spices, though I’ve no idea which ones. My mouth starts watering immediately, half from the food and half from the sight of him. Good gracious the man does things to me.

He looks clean and pressed, like he’s just showered and put on fresh clothes. He maybe trimmed his beard, which is freshly squared off on his cheek and under his chin. I’ll miss the stubble, but those angles are delicious. And the effort he’s made blows me away.

Then there’s his mouth. He must have trimmed around that, too. I can’t stop staring at it. Thinking about what it can do.

“Jerusha.” I’ve never liked my name so much as when he says it like that—resonating