Color Me Pretty: A Father's Best Friend Romance

“You,” she breathed, eyelids fluttering.

“And?”

She swallowed, her breathing becoming faster as she met my hips every time, fucking me with as much need as she could. The way she squeezed me had my cock demanding more, fighting to reach the climax that would happen way too soon if I kept thinking about the hundreds of different ways I’d fuck her now that I had her. “I see me. I see…fuck, Theo. I-I see somebody worthy. Beautiful. Is that what you want to hear?”

I bit into her shoulder again until I was sure a mark would be left and fuck if that didn’t turn me on more. “I want the truth. What’s your truth? What do you see of yourself right now?”

Her jaw quivered as she fought to keep her eyes open, knowing I’d force her to look again if they drifted closed. I picked up the pace and rolled my hips into her, finding that perfect place to hit every single time until she struggled to make coherent sentences. “I see a grown woman w-who faced a lot of battles and won most of them. Somebody who wears warpaint in the f-form of—” She mewled when I moved a hand to her front and pinched her clit between my fingers. “—stretchmarks and scars.”

Letting go of her hair, she rested the back of her head against my ch

est and said my name, panting it, praising it, begging me to do more to her. I flattened my palm against the scar on her torso and listened to every plead she moaned out between pants.

Faster.

Harder.

More. More. More.

It fueled me, but not as much as her words did, because every single one she spoke was the truth. Her body was a shrine that encompassed something ethereal—a soul pure no matter how much the world tried tainting it, and a love so deep she offered it to everybody who needed a piece of the goodness inside her.

And it was mine.

It was always mine in some way.

“So fucking beautiful,” I said against the back of her head as I circled her clit again until she clenched my dick in a grip that was almost painful.

“Theo. Oh God. Oh God. Please.” She repeated that again and again until I fucked her so hard, I nearly put a fist through the mirror when she came on my cock and milked me of my own orgasm. Spilling inside of her, I buried myself so deep I wasn’t sure I’d come out—if I even wanted to. My face stayed in the crook of her neck as her body went limp in my arms that held her to me before we collapsed against the countertop.

When I pulled out, I whispered, “I see two people who have a lot of exploring left to do, sweetheart.” I straightened out and helped her stand, watching my seed leak down her thigh with a shit eating grin on my face.

“Oh my God, tell me you’re not grinning over that right now.” Embarrassment filled her tone as she hid her face behind her hand in the mirror when she realized what I was looking at.

“Can’t help it. That makes you mine, so I’m going to watch myself drip down your thighs whether you like it or not.” To prove it, I caught some of my cum with my fingers and inserted them back inside her like I wanted to stay there planted inside her for good.

She swallowed. “I was always yours.”

“Come on. Let’s take a shower.”

“Together?” Her voice was hopeful.

Honestly, she couldn’t get rid of me if she wanted to at this point. “Yes, Della. Together.”

Chapter Eleven

Della

The ache between my legs was the only indication that what happened last night was real. As I stretched out my spent body, I turned in bed and examined the empty spot beside me, patting the cooled sheets and frowning.

Memories surfaced of waking up in the middle of the night together in my bed when Theo’s fingers had found my core, playing with me until I writhed for more. I’d returned the favor a few hours after by tasting the part of him I’d been secretly dying to for longer than I admitted to him. The way he hissed when he woke up to my tongue grazing the side of his cock as I sucked him off had me feeling like a goddess. It was a feeling I didn’t know well at all, and he only fed it as he put his hand in my hair with a groan and murmured, “You’ll be the end of me. I fucking swear it.”

It’d made me grin. Not as much as the faint remembrance of soft lips pressing against my temple and the words, “Anthony would fucking kill me” racking around my mind.

Thinking about my father was the last thing I wanted, but I could tell it plagued him. I didn’t want it to, of course, but I didn’t fault him for it. What we’d done wasn’t some light thing. It was crossing a lot of lines that people would frown upon, but I didn’t care. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t care what people thought.

And that was…freeing.

Sitting up, I clutched the sheets to my naked body and glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. Swearing, I kicked my legs over the side of the bed and bolted toward the closet to grab whatever outfit was quickest to slide on. The jeans and sweatshirt weren’t flattering considering everything else I owned, but it was comfortable, and I was going to be late for my exam if I didn’t leave now.