Daddy Crush - Adriana Anders Page 0,56
my bottom half closer, let her feel my hard cock and the shuddering breath I suck in. “I’m done protecting myself. If fear’s set off my fight or flight, I’m going all out, tooth and nail. I’ll fight anything that gets in our way. You mean that much to me.” The words are too intense for a first talk like this, but they’re out now. Too goddamn late. “You woke up the caveman, Jerusha. I’ll take on anyone who hurts you or tries to keep us apart.”
“Good thing Harper likes me.” She clears her throat. “I think.”
“Thank fucking God.” I kiss her cheek. “And me. Don’t forget. I like you.”
“You more than like me.”
“I fucking love you.” What a relief to say it again, to recognize this thing that’s been torturing me for so long. “Adore you. With every cell in my body.”
“And soul.”
“Yeah.” I nod, my chest expanding with all the emotion. “Almost hurts. Now open your legs.”
She blinks “What?”
“We’ve got a lesson to get through.”
“Are you saying having sex with me’s some kind of chore for you?” There’s a laugh in her voice. It’s addictive. “Just another chore to complete? A milestone to—”
“No. I’m saying lie down…” I rise up again, knee her thighs apart, and drop my pelvis. And then, because I suspect it’s what she wants, I lower my voice and whisper in her ear, “So I can fuck you, you little slut.”
Jerusha
Oh my God. It’s happening. We’re doing it.
And he loves me.
I’m buzzing—every little part of me, including my insides. I could laugh or cry or throw my head back and scream.
When Karl makes his way down my body again, shoves me open, and licks my sex, I groan—from equal parts pleasure and impatience. “Nooooooo.”
He lifts his head, throws one of my legs over his shoulder and smirks up at me. “No?”
“I mean, yes, but…I want to do the other thing.”
“You want me to fuck this pretty little pussy?” He slides a finger inside me and everything clenches tight
“Yes, please.”
“Say it like you mean it.” He licks me, long and slow, as if he’s got all the time in the world, when really I’m about to burn up with need. “Convince me.”
“I want your big cock in my tight little pussy,” I force out. And then, because just saying it made me warmer and heavier and more excited, I pinch my nipples and go on. “I want you to stretch me out.” The words flow from me, filthy and wrong and so utterly right. “I want you to fill me up. Use me.”
With a curse, he’s up and off the bed, pulling a plastic bag from his drawer. He empties it onto the blanket, grabs one of the boxes, which he opens and then fights with one of the flat packages that emerge.
I watch, rapt, as he drags a condom down his thick length. Everything about him is mesmerizing, from the bulky silhouette of his thighs in front of the window, to the flexing of his hands and forearms and the efficient way he deals with his own body. I love how his head’s bent in concentration. I love the tight pull he gives himself before settling back on top of me with a heavy sigh.
And, goodness do I love the warm, solid press of him before he shifts back, reaches down, and works himself against me. The sound of his cock running between my soaked lips is so sexual, I shiver. This. This, right here, is the thing I’ve wanted for so long.
Well, one of them.
He notches himself at my entrance, drawing a gasp from my lips, looks up and goes still. “Might hurt.”
I bite my lip and nod. “I know.”
“I’ll go slow.”
“I know.”
He leans forward, as if to show me with his tongue just how slow and explicit he can be.
And then he’s pushing in. The pressure’s strange, foreign, despite the fact that I’ve used toys before. Part of it’s his closeness and his heat, but there’s another thing about it that I can’t quite put my finger on. The inexorability, maybe. Although that’s not quite right. He’ll stop if I want him to.
But I don’t.
Of their own volition, my hands dig into his bottom, my hips move—away or toward him, I’m not even sure.
“That’s it,” he mutters. “Take it.”
Oh, and it’s dirty when he talks like that. I tighten around him, he groans, head dropping low, and goes still. “You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart.”
I can’t talk, but my hips move. My hands