Abs aching from the effort of holding back my load, I pin her to me and let rip, grunting and growling my release as her powerful pussy squeezes my cock with all its might. Her muffled little squeaks and whimpers turn into full-body moans, and she throws herself against me, feeling everything I’ve got for her.
Every spurt I jet into her depths is fucking heaven.
I shouldn’t be inside my friend’s daughter — and definitely not without protection.
I know I shouldn’t.
But I don’t give a fuck.
I’m clean, and the repercussions of getting her pregnant might be massive, but we belong together. I’m the right man for her, and I’m not ever going to let her down like everyone else has. I’ll stand by this decision until I’m dead and buried.
I don’t care how fast things are happening between us. I’ve been through my fair share of relationships and enough false starts to know that this one’s for real.
She’s the one I’ve been waiting for all this time.
Golden hair flying, round breasts heaving, swollen lips panting, cunt so sweet and slick and tight I never want anyone else going near its divine gushing entrance but me…
“I knew you were fucking meant for me from the first. I want you to bemine, Lana.”
“Good.”
“How do I look?”Lana asks, doing a slow spin at the door before she plans to leave my trailer.
“Fucking gorgeous and full of cum.”
She covers her snort and throws the nearest thing at me — a notebook she must have brought in with her. I catch it before it hits me and clutch it to my chest as if offended by such aggression.
“Ba-ates.”
“Mmm,” I rumble at her. “Do it again.”
Her eyebrows lift sweetly. “Do what?”
“Change my name into a two-syllable word,” I say, knowing how devilish my smirk will look. “Idareyou.”
She wets her lips and glances at the door. “I’m tempted, but I’m not sure we can afford the time for whatever’s making your eyes sparkle.”
I grunt in agreement. “Do it later, then.” I step closer to tidy her hair just a little better, so she doesn’t look like she’s been so beautifully fucked. “What’s in this?” I ask, handing over her swanky notebook. “It’s different from your other one. Looks special.”
“It is.” She looks down to where it’s now clasped in her hands. “It’s for life math.”
“Life math?” I straighten her shirt collar and smooth out a crease in her sleeve. “Tell me more.”
“It’s… sort of my life plan. Like… goals and timing estimations for certain milestones — spoiler alert, I’m usually behind on all of them. Until I met you, anyway. I was… When I came over, I wanted to tell you that I loved you — if the timing was right — but I thought you might need convincing about any motivations I might have had because I know it probably seems very immature and naïve to fall in love with the first guy you sleep with, and the probability of love having stemmed from a one-night stand, I mean… the math on that freakedmeout, so I know how crazy I was going to sound, but you align with every fucking thing on the graph in there, Bates.”
I take the notebook back and flip it open. “Everything?”
I flip through the pages of calculations and codes, then come to something that seems to resemble a master plan with diagrams, lists, and a graph with pre-plotted points in black that are labeled with milestones like “first step” and “learn to drive” and “lose virginity” and “own first house” — that one’s coming up soon according to its proximity to the fresh pink mark labeled “virginity lost.” Much,muchfurther along than the house-owning thing, there are other points labeled “Closest estimate for marriage in an ideal scenario,” “Earliest estimate for first child” — which seems very closely followed by: “Last chance to have a baby, with or without a man” and “Menopause.”
I look up from the book and search her face.
Her expression gets all pinched and uncomfortable-looking. “You’re drawing conclusions,” she says quietly.
“I am,” I agree.
She winces a little. “Do I want to know what they are?”
“I don’t know. How do you feel about me knowing that I have approximately…” I check the notebook again. “Twenty-three years to knock you up as many times as possible? Because I’m going to want to, and my kid-math on that gets pretty scary if some of those pregnancies turn out to be twins and shit, babe.”
