The Single Dad (The Dalton Brothers 3)

“I need to feel how fucking tight you are.”

I tugged at the button of her jeans and moved her zipper down, burying my fingers under her panties.

“That pussy,” I moaned.

Fuck.

The bareness.

The fucking tightness that I knew was waiting for me.

The wetness that would be coating my fingers.

I dived in.

Straight to my goddamn knuckle and heard, “Oh my God. Yes!”

This girl was ready for me.

Dripping.

Gripping my arm to move me deeper inside her.

I twisted my wrist when I got all the way in and halted. I wanted to relish this moment. One that I’d been thinking about for fucking weeks. And as I stilled, she pulsed.

Clenched.

“Tight …” I hissed against her mouth. “That doesn’t come close to describing what I’m feeling right now.”

Her hands moved to my shoulders, piercing me, urging me to go in farther.

And that was what I wanted, but first, I needed something else.

I needed the taste that I’d been after.

I quickly pulled out and rubbed my finger across my mouth. “Holy fucking hell.” I licked her off me, savoring her. “Sydney … that flavor. My God.” I swallowed. “I want more.”

But before I allowed myself more, I needed to see what the wetness would look like on her lips. “Your turn.” I swiped my finger across her mouth and commanded, “Taste yourself. Tell me how good it is.”

This was new to her.

I could tell by her timidness.

By the way her eyes followed my hand.

But she licked.

She swallowed.

And she quivered, saying, “Oh fuck,” before she slammed her mouth onto mine.

I returned to that spot I loved, two fingers sliding right in, my thumb against her clit, and I plunged in and out of her pussy.

“Ford!”

I knew it felt good.

I could hear it in her breaths.

I could taste it on her tongue.

I moved faster, deeper, her hips meeting me, my thumb grinding against the highest point.

Circling.

Flicking.

Over and fucking over.

She squeezed my arm, tensing, bucking. “I’m going to come.” She said it against my mouth as though she was warning me.

But I knew.

Her clit was hardening. Her wetness was thickening.

Her sounds were getting even louder.

“Let me hear it,” I demanded. “Let me fucking feel it.”

That was all it took before she was shuddering against me, her pussy contracting, her moans filling my ears.

“That’s it, Sydney.” I gripped the back of her head, bunching her hair into my fist. “That’s fucking it.” I mashed our lips together. “Yes!”

The second she stilled, our eyes connected.

Our mouths separated.

Our breathing mixed.

My dick was so goddamn hard that all I could think about was lifting her onto the counter, spreading her legs, plunging inside her pussy, and fucking coming.

“My God,” she whispered. “No one has ever made me feel like you.” Her hands went to my face. “Ford, I …”

The feeling came out of nowhere.