Curves for the Single Dad

“What?” I frowned and shook my head. “No.”

“Good, because I didn’t bring my cuffs tonight.”

“Pity,” I said automatically, enjoying her shocked laugh. “I signed up in hopes of meeting the terrible dates you hear about online, looking for reasons a crazy person might kill those women, instead I found my lead investigator.”

She laughed. “That’s not me. I’m just a deputy.”

“You’re not just anything, Tara. Believe me. You were my inspiration for her.” I stood right in front of her, nearly chest-t0-chest so she could see how sincere I was.

“That’s sweet,” she said on a soft, feminine sigh.

“Don’t say sweet,” I growled.

“Why not, I think sweet is kind of…hot.” Heat flared in her eyes and I set my drink down and captured her mouth instead of the whiskey, enjoying the faint hints on her tongue.

Tara moaned and set her own drink on the edge of the table and reached for me, grasping at me like she couldn’t get enough of me and I pressed my body against hers, letting her feel that I was just as crazy for her. “Tara,” I growled and kissed my way from her mouth down to her neck, her throat and then her sweet scented collarbone. One hand speared through her hair and the other slid up her thighs, between her legs where her panties were already damp.

“Chris,” she gasped and dropped her head backwards as I hooked one finger inside her panties, going slow just in case she put a stop to things.

Thankfully, she didn’t.

Tara was hot and wet between her thighs, her clit swollen beneath my thumb, her pussy clenching around my index and middle fingers. “Chris,” she growled again and held onto my shoulders, green eyes closed tight as pleasure took over.

“Fuck, Tara. You’re so wet,” I growled and lifted her onto the table and pushed her onto her back. “So fucking wet.” Pushing her legs open wide, I slid her panties down smooth creamy legs and groaned. “Pink and wet and swollen. Perfect.”

Feeling bold, Tara sat up on her elbows, a gleam in her eyes as she looked at me. “What do you plan to do about it, Mr. Jacobs?”

“Make you scream. Beg. Come.” Tara licked her lips and I buried my face between her legs and did the same, licked and kissed her while she squirmed and begged me for more. For harder.

“Oh yes, Chris. Just like…that!” Her fingers speared through my hair and her hips began to ground against me while I licked and sucked at her clit, sliding two fingers deep and fucking her the way I longed to do. For real. “Chris,” she moaned, close to orgasm.

“What is it, Tara?”

In response she grabbed a handful of my hair and ground harder against me, telling me with her body exactly what she needed and I gave it to her. And then some. “Yes! Oh god, please! More, Chris. Please!” The last word came out on a long, drawn out cry of pleasure as her orgasm hit. “Holy…,” she didn’t finish the sentiment and I didn’t need her to when her chest heaved like she ran a marathon and her smile wouldn’t fade.

The oven timer sounded and she laughed. “Perfect timing,” I told her as I licked my lips. And then my fingers. “Perfect.”

“Fifteen minutes more would have been perfect,” she clarified, “but yeah, pretty damn perfect.”

I helped her sit up and slid off the table before kissing her plump pink lips. “We’ll need a hell of a lot more than fifteen minutes.”

Heat flared in her eyes. “Good to know,” she said breathlessly, her post orgasmic glow brighter than ever. “I guess dinner will have to do since you went through all this trouble.”

I heard the wistful tone in her voice and grinned. “There’s always time for dessert,” I told her and captured her lips once more.

“What’s for dessert,” she asked, her voice the sound of pure innocence.

“Chocolate mousse.”

Tara nibbled her bottom lip thoughtfully. “And here I thought it would be me.”

“Why do I have to choose when I’m happy to lick it off your sweet body.”

“Sweet lord,” she groaned and covered her face with her hands. “You and that mouth.”

“You love it.”

She shrugged. “Not sure about that. I think we’ll have to test it out again. Later. After dinner.”

I laughed and made my way to the oven as I shook my head at her words. “Only if you ask nicely.”

“You mean like this, ‘Please Mr. Jacobs? Pretty please?”

I groaned and turned away from her. “Definitely trying to kill me,” I mumbled under my breath while I finished off dinner. “Hungry?”

“Starved.” When Tara left to freshen up for dinner, I took advantage of the alone time and splashed cold water on my face. And down my pants. Relief was at least an hour away. Maybe more.

That was too damn long. But I smiled knowing that the night was already a success, and dinner hadn’t been served yet.