“You gonna come for me already?” I taunt, licking slow circles around her clit. “So needy. All I did was walk in the door.”
“Yes—fuck, yes—don’t stop,” she pants, voice cracking.
But I do stop. Just for a second. Just long enough to pull back and watch her writhe.
“Beg for it.”
Her eyes flare. “Please. Please, Daddy, I need it—I needyou.”
I climb over her, lining myself up, my cock thick and aching and ready to split her in two.
“You need me?” I growl, dragging the head through her slick heat but not pushing in. “You miss this cock? Miss getting fucked like you’re mine?”
“Iamyours,” she breathes, wrapping her legs around my hips. “Every inch of me. Nowfuck me.”
That’s all I need.
I slam into her in one thrust, deep and hard, and she cries out, head tipping back. I grip her hips and start to move, slow at first, grinding deep so she feels every inch.
“That’s it,” I snarl, pounding into her now. “Take me, sugar. Let me fuck you full all over again.”
She’s gasping, clenching around me, body flushed and trembling. I reach between us and rub her clit, ruthless and relentless.
“Come on this cock,” I command, my voice sharp. “Let me feel you lose it.”
She shatters with a scream, muscles clamping down hard as her orgasm rips through her. And I follow her over the edge, hips jerking as I come deep inside her, filling her until there’s nothing left to give.
We stay like that, panting, tangled, hearts pounding.
And then I kiss her slow and reverent, a contrast to everything I just did.
“My perfect girl,” I murmur, brushing the damp hair from her face. “You’re gonna kill me, one of these days.”
She smiles, bliss-drunk and glowing. “You’d come back haunting, asking for more.”
I chuckle, pulling her close. “Damn right I would.”
She’s still trembling beneath me, boneless and glowing, but I’m not done. Not even close.
I kiss her belly—slow, worshipful—then sit back on my heels, watching the rise and fall of her chest. “Don’t move,” I say, voice low. “Not one inch.”
She blinks up at me, dazed. “What are you?—”
“You’ll see.” I reach for the bottle on the nightstand—my favorite whiskey, smooth and dark—and twist the cap off with one hand.
Her eyes widen. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would. And I am.”
I tilt the bottle just enough to drizzle a thin stream over her stomach, right across the soft swell where she’s carrying my child. She gasps, the chill a sharp contrast to the heat between us.
The amber liquid clings to her skin, dripping slowly into the curve of her navel.
I lean down, tongue dragging hot and slow across her belly as I lap it up.
“Mmm.” I groan deep in my chest. “Sweet. But not as sweet as you.”
She whimpers, her hands fisting in the sheets. “You’re insane.”
