I switch off the burner and turn back to her, blowing out a breath. “I am forty-seven years old.”
Her eyes twinkle. “Oh, I know.”
“Whatever kind of stamina the people you’ve slept with before had? I wish I had it, but again, forty-seven years old.” Something else I don’t want to think about, frankly. I deliberately haven’t asked any questions about her previous partners, because I know hearing about them would just piss me off. I have zero right to jealousy, especially considering how many more years of partners I’ve had. But it’s been a long time since I was in an actual relationship, and I know Este broke up with her ex-boyfriend right after the crash. From what Bryan said, they’d been together for years, and even though she broke up with him and he was apparently perfectly nice, I can’t help but loathe the concept of him.
Este fails to fight a smile as she puts her Kindle on the table and stands up. “First,” she begins, rounding the table, “you wrinkle your nose when you’re jealous. It’s cute.” She lightly taps the end of my nose, and I force myself to relax it.
“I’m not jealous,” I lie.
“You are. But I like it—it’s hot. Unnecessary, though. Sex with you is miles better than it ever has been before,and I haven’t thought of a single other person I’ve been with since before you even touched me.”
I can’t pretend that doesn’t ease the sting of jealousy a little.
“Second,” she continues, “are you saying that if I were to drop to my knees right now”—she runs one finger down my chest, then does, looking up at me through her eyelashes from the floor—“that you wouldn’t have the stamina for it?”
I’ve been hard as a goddamn rock since she started reading, and she knows it. Even if my body is thoroughly tired, and I’m a little concerned about hers after how much I wore her out this morning, it can’t resist her.Ican’t resist her. The past few weeks have involved more physical activity than I’ve had in years, and I haul around wood for a living.
So much for taking care of her tonight. I was going to suggest a bath after dinner, then give her a massage, and… who am I kidding? A bath and a massage were always going to lead here.
I glance back at the soup and sigh. “At least let me feed you first, angel.”
Mischief lights her face as she unzips my jeans and pulls them and my boxers down in one fell swoop. Este licks her lips. “Please feed me, Daddy.”
Holy shit. She’s going to be the death of me.
“Open up, baby.”
She parts her lips, but closes her eyes as I press between them, a satisfied expression settling over her face, and a groan spilling from her throat. I slide my fingers through her hair, being careful not to be too rough against her scalp as Ihold her head. She wouldn’t complain if I were, but one of us has to be mindful of her headaches.
Her eyes flicker open, and she looks up at me, almost patiently. Expectantly. Perfectly still, waiting for me to use her mouth. I test the back of her throat with the head of my cock, and she relaxes it, trying to take me as deep as she can. It doesn’t stop her from gagging slightly, but her eyes sparkle. She likes it.
I move her head rather than my hips, sliding her mouth over my cock, my fingers already trembling against her. I refuse to come in her mouth—I probably only have one more in me tonight, and I want to see it dripping from her pussy when we’re both too blissed out to remember she’s leaving soon.
She whimpers as I move her faster, neither of us able to catch our breath fully. Her mouth is so fucking warm, so fucking soft. Tears form in the corners of her eyes, drawing shaky lines down her cheeks when they spill. She tightens her lips around me, and I curse, pulling out of her before I lose it.
I swipe my thumb through the tear tracks on her face, catching a few tears before they drip off her chin, and press it into her mouth. She closes her mouth around my thumb, sucking the tip. Towering over her, watching her like this, will be burned in my mind forever, I think.
“Up,” I say, but it sounds more like a growl than anything else. I hold out my free hand to her, and she lets me tug her to her feet, still sucking my thumb until I pull it from her lips with a smallpop.
Her skin is hot to the touch when I pick her up, kick offmy jeans, and carry her to the couch. I consider lying her down and sinking straight into her, but I want to draw as much from her as I can. She grumbles as I set her on her feet, but I kiss the protest from her lips as I strip her clothes off—easily since, surprise surprise, no pants. I position her so she’s straddling the arm of the couch, and Este looks over her shoulder at me, her expression questioning.
I pull the armchair forward so I’m close enough to touch her, and I lean forward, running a hand over her back. “Okay?”
“I’d be better if you weren’t so far away.”
I chuckle and lean back in the seat, taking her all in. “Ride the couch, angel. Get it nice and messy while you make yourself come. You think you can do that for me?”
She draws in a sharp breath, her eyes a little glassy as she nods.
I raise a brow. “Words, baby.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl,” I answer, and she gasps as she starts rolling her hips. Her body collapses forward a little, and she grinds against the arm of the couch. The fabric is textured, and I know it has to be perfectly torturous against her sensitive clit as she glides back and forth, round and round.
Este’s knuckles are white where she’s gripping the back of the couch, her spine gleaming with sweat. Whimpers spill from her lips, broken up whenever she hits a specific spot, and her breath hitches. I’ve never watched something more beautiful than her descent into ecstasy, slow at first, then not at all. Her body moves desperately, her movements shakyand disjointed, and I don’t think she’s entirely in control of them.
I can’t stop myself from leaning forward as she falls over the edge, cursing and crying “Daddy” as she trembles. Her orgasm rips through her, and I don’t give her the chance to come down before I grab her waist and tug her right to the edge of the arm, close enough to lift her hips, duck my head, and consume her.
