Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Something feral awakens in me at her possessiveness. The way her lips move around that word.
Daddy.
I capture her wrists in one hand, pinning them behind her back. "We'll see who belongs to whom when you're coming apart under my tongue."
I lift her to sit on the edge of the desk, pushing aside papers, sending them billowing into the air. Her skirt bunches around her waist as I drop to my knees before her, displaying my devotion in the most primal way.
On my knees.
For. Pussy.
She grins down at me, feline and fearless. "Prove it."
Her thighs part like petals under the weight of my nudge, surrendering. The desk hums beneath us as I press close enough to feel her pulse jump against my mouth—the heat rising off her skin in waves that drown me.
"So wet already," I rasp, dragging my lips along her inner thigh before settling at the apex. Her scent floods me—sweet honey and wild musk, and I inhale deep, letting it anchor me to this moment. "Knew Daddy was coming home for lunch, didn’t you?"
A gasp escapes her throat, her fingers already tangling in my hair like she’s been waiting a lifetime for this. My breath hitches at the thought of her imagining me walking through that door just to taste her pussy—and I’m a man unmade by how perfect it feels under my tongue.
"Please," she whispers, voice frayed at the edges like she’s been unraveling for days waiting here.
I don’t answer aloud. Instead, I pull back just enough to meet her gaze, holding that stare as I flick my tongue in one long, deliberate stroke. She arches, her spine forming a delicious bow, and the little cry of ecstasy accompanies her liquid gold hitting my lips.
"Please what, kitten?" My voice drops, raw with hunger for her words. Let her name it. Let her demand it.
"Your mouth," she says, sharper this time—a demand now, not a plea—"Now."
I laugh against her, a growl that vibrates through the damp flesh as I reward her boldness. Two fingers dig into the backs of her thighs to hold her open, spread wide for me, and then I take what’s mine. A desperate man on his knees for this hummingbird of a girl that’s got my balls in her claws and I’m here for it all.
The first lick is slow, languid—testing how deep she’ll let me go—but by the second she’s bucking under my hands, hips rolling forward like she can’t help it.
"Yes," I murmur against her, savoring the way she tastes: sugar and salt and all mine. My tongue circles her clit in steady, fevered circles while I add my thumb, pumping just to her tight cherry, teasing her with what’s to come.
This treasure she’s saved for me will soon be destroyed, and in its destruction it will be the most beautiful masterpiece.
"Tell me what you’re doing to me," I breathe against her heat, refusing to look away from those wide eyes. Her pupils are blown black with want, cheeks flushed pink under the desk lamp’s glow.
"Killing—" she gasps when my teeth graze her inner thigh, “you.”
Liar. But I let it be. Instead, I sink lower, taking more of her on my tongue, swirling around her clit until she’s a quivering mess beneath me. She fists my hair harder now, fingers bruising against my scalp, and I revel in the pain—each tug proof that this body wants me here, only me, forever.
"Look at you," I growl into her, pushing two fingers deep inside while my mouth works her like an instrument waiting to be played. Her walls flutter around me, hot and greedy, and I swear she’s humming a hymn just for me. "Come all over my face, kitten."
Her legs clamp down as her body tightens—a coil about to snap—and then the first wave hits with a cry torn from deep in her throat. Her back arches sharply; I catch her hips, hold her steady as I lap at the sweetness spilling over me.
"That’s right," I groan against her, chasing every tremor until she’s shaking like a live wire in my hands.
When she starts to slump back, spent and panting, I’m already up—ripping open my belt with one hand while the other grabs her thigh, hoisting it high over my shoulder.
"Still got me," I say, voice gruff as I position myself against her entrance. “Daddy can’t wait. You’re taking it all, not sure slow is possible now, kitten.”
Her eyes flare, dark and dangerous even in surrender. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Always.”
Chapter Seven
Tabby
The velvet of the sofa cushions soothes a bit of the fire on my skin as he hoists me onto his naked lap, his pants discarded before he carried me here. His office is all oak and leather—a man’s domain—and I catch the tang of aged wood mixed with his spicy, musky cologne, and of course my own arousal which seems to be my new forever scent.