“It’s so damn good, cutie. Your first orgasm is going to be right where it belongs. On my motherfucking lap while I tongue that little girl mouth.” His lips take mine in a slow, deep, reassuring kiss—and then I’m being lifted off the desk. Carried around the piece of furniture with my legs clamped around Turk’s waist. I’m so busy trying to rub myself on his distended flesh, because friction, somehow I know it will save my life, that I have no warning when Turk sits down in the desk chair—and I scream into his neck at the change in gravity. Suddenly I am able to grind down on his bulge as hard as I want and it unleashes euphoria inside of me.
Unfiltered, frenetic hunger.
“Go fucking crazy on it, Missy.”
“No,” I whimper, hips writhing, barely recognizing my own voice. “C-call me what you did before.”
“Cutie?”
“The other one,” I whisper in his ear—and he tenses, breathing faster.
His voice is thick as brick when he speaks again. “Little girl.”
I moan shamelessly, tilting my lower body in such a way that this certain region is making contact with Turk’s hardness—and it’s explosive. The combination of that spot receiving pressure and his voice rasping those two words in my ear. Why does Turk calling me by that name feel like the key to unlocking an undiscovered world?
“We talked about your body trusting mine, didn’t we?” he grits out, his big hands on my bottom, kneading it, urging me faster. “Maybe you…maybe we need the ultimate trust.” His palm strikes my right cheek lightly, but even that gentle slap makes everything inside of me flex and quiver. “The kind of trust you can only get from Daddy.”
A feeling like I’ve never imagined or experienced before ripples through my core and Turk lifts his hips, bouncing me over and over again as the pleasure tackles my senses.
“Say it,” he groans.
I bounce up and down, my breasts jostling in the neckline of my tank top, thighs shaking uncontrollably. “Daddy. Daddy.”
The key turns and I walk into paradise. Yes. This is what has been missing.
Trust. Guidance. Permission. Heat so dense it overtakes me.
I’m soaking his lap. Should that embarrass me? It doesn’t seem to matter. Nothing seems to matter but looking into Turk’s intense blue eyes and allowing myself to fly, to feel gratification I never thought possible. I’m one giant pulsing nerve and nothing in the world is wrong, everything is right and glorious and perfect.
I don’t realize I’ve lost consciousness until my eyes open a crack and I find myself draped over Turk’s heaving body, his mouth planting kisses on my hairline. “Come back to me, cutie. I need to see those eyes.”
Shifting slightly, I blink up at him and he swallows loudly, his heart knocking faster against my shoulder.
“Wow,” he whispers. “Just…wow. You’re so gorgeous, it hurts.”
“Thank you.” Flustered by the compliment, I wet my parched lips, finding I’m slightly tongue-tied when I try to speak. “That was the best thing I’ve ever done,” I say, wanting to return the gesture. But before he can react, a thought occurs to me. “I can’t…that is, a woman can’t get pregnant from this?”
“No,” he says right away, shaking his head rapidly. “I’m still hard as fucking nails. I didn’t let out a single drop. Believe me. I’m super aware that none of my Elvises have left the building.”
A giggle climbs my throat and catches me off guard. When was the last time I laughed? And so easily? “Is it bad that I called you Daddy?”
“I don’t care if it’s good or bad.” He leans in and looks me in the eye, forehead pressing to mine. “I give you what you need.”
That’s when it happens. Something I wasn’t expecting.
My heart quite simply begins to float.
For this man. This man who has agreed to one night with me. One night only.
A man who wants no responsibility for the child we’ll make together.
Uh oh.
Loud voices outside the door interrupt my troubled thoughts and Turk hurriedly stands us up and begins to fix my clothing, kissing me on the forehead several times while he does it.
“So…about our date,” I begin nervously. Does he still want to take me out? I’ve just rubbed myself all over his lap and he still seems very tense, his jaw clenched, sweat beading on his upper lip. “I’m, um…well, tomorrow is Saturday and I’m free. If you are.”
“Is five a.m. too early to pick you up?” he blurts, the tops of his ears turning red again. “We could go for a walk. Have breakfast—” His eyes close. “Shit, I have a game tomorrow.”
“I thought you said you couldn’t play anymore.”
“I can’t. But my old team is playing and I promised I’d stand on the sidelines.” He slashes a hand through the air. “It’s fine, I’m going to cancel—”