I settle between her thighs and she's still wet—from me, from her own arousal, from the mess we made downstairs. I lap at her slowly, thoroughly, and she tastes like sex and salt and musk.
"Still sensitive?" I murmur against her.
"Yes," she whimpers.
I work her with my tongue and fingers, taking my time, learning exactly what she needs. When she comes, she's beautiful—back arched, my name on her lips, her whole body trembling.
I kiss my way back up her body, settling between her legs. She reaches between us, wraps her hand around my cock, and guides me to her entrance.
"Inside me," she demands. "Now, Daddy."
Fuck. Hearing her call meDaddydoes something crazy to me. Makes me feel possessive and protective and absolutely feral.
I thrust into her in one smooth stroke. She's so wet, so tight, still fluttering from her last orgasm.
"That's my girl," I breathe, starting to move. "Taking me so well."
"Harder." Her nails dig into my back.
I hook her leg over my shoulder, changing the angle, and drive into her harder. The sounds she makes—those desperate, needy little whimpers—are driving me insane.
"You like that?" I'm already close but I'm trying to hold off. "Like when I fuck you hard?"
"Yes! Don't stop!"
My hand slides between us, finding her clit, and she shatters. I can't hold back anymore. I bury myself deep and come hard, groaning her name.
We collapse together, sweaty and spent, and I roll to my side, pulling her with me. She fits perfectly against my chest, her head tucked under my chin, and I feel something in my chest crack wide open.
This. This is what I want. Not just the incredible sex but this. Her in my arms. Her in my bed. Her in my life.
"Joel?" Her voice is soft, sleepy.
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
She said she was in love with me earlier, but this simple statement, said so easily is what undoes me.
"I love you too," I say against her hair. "So fucking much."
We shower together, and it's intimate in a different way—washing each other's hair, gentle touches, quiet laughter. By the time we make it back to the bedroom, it's mid-afternoon and we're both starving.
"We should probably eat something," I say, pulling on clean boxers and jeans.
"The cinnamon rolls are definitely inedible by now," Nina says, looking adorably rumpled in my t-shirt again.
"I'll make us something. What do you want?"
"You." She grins. "But also food. Actual food."
We head downstairs and I make us grilled cheese sandwiches, simple but satisfying. We eat at the island where this all started, and I can't stop touching her. My hand on her thigh, fingers playing with her hair, stealing kisses between bites.
"We should talk about this," I finally say, though part of me just wants to keep touching her and not think about the complications.
"Or we could not talk," Nina suggests, leaning in to kiss me.
But I catch her face in my hands, holding her back. "Nina. We need to figure this out. Alexis comes home day after tomorrow."
