She flashes me the screen. “It’s my dad. I already ducked his call once today–” Her thumb hovers over the red button to decline the call.
Where’s the fun in that?
I pull out and slowly thrust back into her. It takes everything in me to stop moving.
“Answer it,” I say in a low voice.
She clenches involuntarily around me and seems to debate it. But when I stay still, she makes a face and accepts the call.
“Hi, Dad,” she greets him. Her eyes focus on my face but not in the haze of pleasure and lust like before. This time a bit more…reserved. Sharp. “Yeah, Cross and I are getting along okay.”
I smirk and grasp her hips. I shift, pushing the tiniest fraction deeper into her.
Her eyes widen. “...uh-huh. No, the classes are different to Yale, but–”
I draw out and push back in slowly. My muscles tremble, but it’s Scarlett’s legs around me that tense and shake. Her heels dig into the backs of my thighs, and she puts her hand on my chest. Her arm straightens, as if that would keep me away from her.
“You’re coming to Shadow Valley?”
I ignore her arm and run my hand up under her shirt. My fingers find her bralette–nothing more than scraps of lace, from the feel of it. I pinch her nipple through the fabric. Her back arches, her lips parting, but her glare only eggs me on.
“W-when?”
I move a little faster. My hips, my hand exploring under her shirt. She shoves at my arm, but I just silently laugh at her. I pullout and slam into her hard enough that she slides in the leaves. She’s going to be picking out bits of leaves and dirt from her hair for ages when we get back. The rough-and-tumble lifestyle will do that to a girl.
“Of course we’d go to d-dinner,” her voice wobbles. “No, I’m fine, just on the treadmill.”
I snicker. That’s a great euphemism for our little run.
I withdraw my hand from her shirt and spread her legs open wider. I rock back and look down at us. My dick spears her open. She’s so fucking wet I could drown down there.
Instead, I touch her clit. Her body tenses, and she tries to snap her knees closed, but I block her legs. I run my finger over the sensitive button, tuning out her conversation. The words still flow–or stutter–out of her, but I want to make her come.
Preferably in the next thirty seconds.
I redouble my efforts, my fingers now moving faster and harder on her clit. Her pussy is throbbing around my cock, but we’re notthere.
“I gotta go, Dad,” she bites out. “Yes, we’ll see you tomorrow.”
She hangs up and throws the phone aside right as her orgasm hits her. She squirms under me, her eyes squeezing shut. I am going to memorize this expression and replay it when I need a dose of serotonin. Her tightness and the way she reacts tips me over the edge. I pick up speed, pounding into her as I chase my own high.
My balls tighten, and I come. Tingling bliss zips up my spine, and I bow forward over her. I stay still, the silent knowledge that my cum now fills her pussy–that we didn’t use protection–radiates through me along with the caveman instinct to stay still to keep it inside her.
Finally, Scarlett’s eyes open, and the realization of what I did dawns on her.
“You asshole,” she bites out.
“Obviously. But an asshole who can make you come.” I lean over her. “Did you see stars?”
She grimaces.
“That’s that, then.”
“Get off.” She pushes at my shoulder.
“I just did, thanks.”
She pauses and rolls her eyes.
