“Don’t go easy on me, Daddy,” I purr.
Jake growls and sucks air through his teeth. “Killing me.”
But he’s the one killing me, the pleasure surprising given my body’s condition. His thumb makes a final circle around my clit before he withdraws his hand from my panties. “Jake,” I beg.
He nods. “I know. Eyes on me.”
He rubs my wetness between two fingers and his thumb. My stomach drops somewhere between my ass and the floor as I watch Jake push his fingers past his lips and suck my taste off them.
I cross my arms over my breasts and close my legs, stiffening.
Fuck. This could be bad. I should have brought up?—
“Something wrong?” he asks. “I wanted you to see my first taste of you.”
Under any other circumstance, this would be unbelievably sexy. But that’s not the position I’m in, and it’s actually quite risky. I stammer, unable to come up with words. I finally settle on, “I think maybe I’m just hungry.”
Jake examines me, trying to figure out my sudden shift. “You . . . want to stop? We can stop. It’s whatever you want.”
“I need to eat,” I insist.
I didn’t expect to deal with this so soon. I just broke off my engagement a little over a month ago. Now I’m out in the world and being touched by another man, and I haven’t had time to take care of everything I should before doing this. Before I go into a full spiral, Jake puts a hand on my thigh, wrapping his other arm tighter around my hip where I still sit on his lap. A little smirk lifts his lips. “It’s alright if you were just a little horny, boss.”
The tension is broken once again, by this pest who likes to do things like give me tender loving care when I’m sick and make my pussy feel good while simultaneously irritating the piss out of me. I loll my head to the side. “I’mhungry.”
He has the biggest shit-eating grin. “For dick.”
He gets my shirt off the floor and flicks his head to get me to raise my arms. He pulls the shirt over my head and gives my ass a soft pat. “Nothing wrong with feeling a little slutty, boss.”
“Stop!” I whine, but I can’t hold back my smile.
This is messy. This is complicated. I have no idea what it means, but I know I want more of it.
TWENTY-TWO
JAKE
I’m not survivingthis evening without taking care of business.
And by business, I mean my furious cock.
I’m going to go make Darcy dinner, and I’m staying over at the homeplace just in case she takes a turn for the worse.
I couldn’t forgive myself if something bad happened to her and I wasn’t there.
Because yes, of course, I remember down to the molecule what her pussy tastes like from that little sample I got, but there’s this thing where I actually care about her too. It’s weird—pussy tastes better when you care about the pussy owner.
But I can’t keep spending time around my new favorite horny little slut without coming myself, because I don’t want to be the guy who comes in his pants when she says “hello.”
For now, I’m ducking into the shower’s spray at the cabin, praying Caleb doesn’t pull his bullshit of needing to shit the exact moment I’m about to jerk it in the shower. I think I locked the door this time. I hope so anyway.
I can’t even worry about it because the image of Darcy standing mostly naked in front of me is burned into my retinas, her hair messy, her lips full and red from pressing them together. Her eyes wide, then hooded by desire. That inexplicable scent when a woman’s turned on, so delicate but so perfect. Her breast filling my hand like one was made with the other in mind. I wash quickly, letting the images of an aroused Darcy get me hard. The spray makes me even more sensitive, and I turn so the water runs down my back, pressing one hand into the tile and dropping the other to my very needy cock. My hand is still soaped up, and I recall her taste on my tongue: clean, salty, slightly tangy. I picture myself burying my face between those thighs, spreading her knees wide or propping one foot on my shoulder. Feeling her settle on my face, her grinding, my licking.
Her moaning.
She moaned my fucking name today. My name. Her lips.
Darcy begged for me.
