We make quick work of pulling my shorts and panties down, so he can slide into my heat. My head falls back as I move faster, chasing that edge. His hands guide me, his mouth moving across my throat, biting, sucking, marking.
“I’ve got you,” he rasps. “Let go for me.”
I do.
I fall apart with a broken moan, slumped against his chest, and he holds me there, breathing hard, hands still gentle on my back.
The silence after is thick.
He brushes my hair from my face, searching my eyes.
“Phern…”
I open my mouth. But I don’t say it. Not yet.
Instead, I press a kiss to his jaw and whisper, “Take me home.”
He nods. But the way he watches me the whole drive back tells me he felt it, too. Even if I didn’t say the words.
By the time we step inside my house, the air between us is already charged. The door clicks shut behind us, and Will crowds me against it before I can even turn the lock. His hands find my hips, his mouth brushing my ear.
“You’ve been killing me all night,” he murmurs, voice thick with heat. “Every second you weren’t at my side was torture.”
I tilt my head back just enough to meet his eyes. “So do something about it.”
He does.
The kiss is molten. His mouth crashes to mine like he’s starving for it, like he’s wanted to devour me since the second he saw me, and now he’s finally allowed to. His hands roam up under my shirt, rough palms skating over my stomach, up to my bra.
He spins me, walks me backward down the hall with lips trailing fire over my neck. Every few steps, we shed something—his shirt, then mine. I reach for his belt as we hit the bedroom, tug it free with a satisfying clink. His jeans hang low on his hips when he kicks his boots off and closes the door behind us. My shorts are next.
He looks at me like he’s two seconds from ruining me.
“Get on the bed,” he says, voice rough, commanding.
I do.
Slowly.
Lying back on the sheets in just my bra and panties, I watch him step out of his jeans. He crawls over me, heat rolling off his skin, mouth hovering over mine but not quite kissing.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he breathes.
His hand slides between my thighs, pressing against the wet lace already clinging to me. “This is what I’ve been thinking about all day. You—spread out, desperate, soaked for me, and full of my come.”
I moan, hips shifting under his touch.
He pulls my panties aside and drags two fingers through the slick mess he’s made of me, groaning low. “Fuck, sugar. You’re dripping.”
“I want more, Daddy.”
That lights something behind his eyes. His mouth crashes to mine again, and then he’s lining up, pushing inside slow. Deep. Thick. Stretching me until I’m gasping into his kiss.
Will holds still, buried to the hilt, forehead pressed to mine.
“This what you needed?” he asks, breath ragged.
“God, yes.”
