I can’t stop myself from lowering my mouth to hers, brushing my lips side to side on top of her gasping ones. “As your stepfather, I should comfort you in times like this, shouldn’t I? When you’ve been upset?”
Slowly, she nods. “Yes.”
I push closer, pinning my hard dick between her panty-covered cunt and my belly. “Are you comforted by kisses, little girl?”
She whimpers. “I don’t know, I’ve never kissed anyone.”
A moan kindles in my chest. “If you want your first, you better offer me your tongue.”
Her breaths are racing now, but that tongue does sneak out to wet her lips, remaining perched there on her lower lip, her eyes on me obediently.
This is exactly what I imagined when I saw her picture for the first time.
I saw her just like this.
Asking for pleasure. Trusting me. Surrendering.
I’ve never been a man who goes in search of female companionship. I’ve dated throughout my life, but the military won most of my focus. I’m an aggressive man. Dominant. Never once has it crossed over to the opposite sex, though. Never once have I needed so badly for a woman to look up at me just like this. It’s only ever been London. She called to me through a picture, woke something up deep inside of me and it’s clawing to get out.
With a low groan, I lick our tongues together, twisting my lips on top of hers so I can sink deep, pulling at her flavor, the kiss wet and nasty from the get-go. London’s head is tipped all the way back, her hands still imprisoned at the small of her back—and Jesus Christ, having her completely at my mercy makes my cock thick and heavy in my jeans. I rock against her and she whines into the kiss, opening wider so I can devour, tongue fucking her sexy little mouth while she mewls and writhes around on the table in front of me.
I am not fucking her in an interrogation room for the first time.
Not a chance in hell.
But if I don’t quit grinding on her virgin pussy, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.
Going to have her pregnant within twenty-four hours of coming home.
“Wait,” she blurts, pulling away, her lips swollen from my treatment of them. “Brody…y-you’re married to my mother. We shouldn’t be doing this.”
Of course, she’s right. According to what she believes is reality.
Is she ready to know how deep my obsession with her runs?
Fuck. I don’t know. And I’m not taking a chance. I’ll never play fast and loose with London or our life together. “You’re right,” I manage, dropping my forehead down to hers, out breaths mingling hotly between us. “I’m sorry. I was worried about you and got carried away.”
She nods, her eyes soft and drowsy, hips restless.
Horny. God, she’s worked up. Can’t sit still for a second.
Giving in to temptation, I lift up the hem of her soft denim skirt and look between her spread legs, finding her panties drenched, molded to her unfucked slit. Lord above, she’s exquisite. Every golden inch. “We’ll take care of this.” I drag my knuckle up through the center of her pussy and she cries out, coming off the desk. “Then we’ll behave. Sound good, London?”
“Yes,” she says quickly, her head falling back with a sucked-in breath when I slide my fingers beneath the waistband of her panties, tugging them down her thighs. Her neck is so inviting, I’m powerless to do anything but lick the smooth column from throat to earlobe, removing her underwear in the process and dropping them to the floor. And with my hands free, they find her tits immediately, dragging up the hem of her shirt to her neck and acquainting my palms with the supple weight of them, the greedy nipples begging for attention.
“Gorgeous girl,” I rasp, leaning down to close my lips around one of the rosy buds, drunk from the taste of her in seconds. So intoxicated, I don’t know how I’ll be able to tear myself away from the innocent peaks. Especially when she’s at my mercy, restrained. Unable to do anything but accept the pleasure. “Do you like me being in charge, London?”
Her nod is cautious, but her eyes are ablaze. “Yes.”
That word out of her mouth, the confirmation that she feels this intense bond between us, too, sends my pulse into a gallop. “Did you enjoy your spanking this morning?”
“Yes,” she whispers, her nipples plumping against my palms.
“I didn’t do it because I was mad at you. I need you to know that. I’d never lay a finger on you out of anger.”
She peers up at me, like she can see right through me. “I…know.”
“Do you?” My voice is thick with emotion. “Why do you think I spanked you?”
“I’m not sure,” she whispers. “I only know that it made me feel…grounded. I’m always kind of lost and floating. Treading water in the system, no idea what’ll happen in the future. But when you s-spanked me, I was present. There was someone holding me down and keeping me from flying away.”