Beating veins and a thick tip.
His fingers sink into my hair like he owns me, my mouth—and he does. I look up at him like a servant while I bring him repeatedly to the back of my throat, lavishing attention on the bulbous head of his erection with my tongue, watching it turn more and more purple every time I break for air, stroking him in a tight fist, wet friction noises filling the room.
Nostrils flared, he looks down at me and groans my name, over and over again, one hand leaving my hair to massage his balls until I’ve learned enough to take over the task. He unbuttons his shirt with shaking hands and tosses it down on the ground.
Looking up at his broad, muscular form, the hair and tattoos and wounds, I suck harder. I suck like a woman in awe of a warrior, because I am. I’m shaken by my gratitude and appreciation for this man. My need to please him. My love. My relief that he’s back.
“You missed your man’s body, didn’t you, baby?” He takes hold of my head, beginning a slow, crude thrusting rhythm into my mouth. “Turns that hole slick and willing, doesn’t it?”
I moan a yes around his arousal, rubbing the underside of him enthusiastically with my tongue, his balls growing harder in my palm.
“You should feel what your body does to mine. There’s no comparison.” He grits his teeth, head tipping back to face the ceiling. “I can’t even believe you’re sucking my cock right now. I’m…maybe this is a dream.”
Wanting to convince him otherwise, I open my throat and bring him another inch deeper, swallowing, the walls closing in on him, earning a stripe of salty spray on the back of my throat and a shouted expletive from Daniel.
“Fuck!” He guides his erection out of my mouth with a wince and reaches for the leather office chair, dropping down into it heavily, pulling me off the ground with desperate hands. “Sit on it, little girl, and ride. Need some of that pregnant pussy. Now.” He hauls me between the V of his thighs—and Lord, he is such a marvel of masculinity and lust that I’m straddling him in the middle of his hoarse instructions, both of us yanking my panties to the left so I can sink down, down, down on his thrumming inches.
Before I can roll my hips, his fingertips settles on my ribs…
And I’m being tickled.
The high-pitched notes of my giggle fill the office and I squirm on his lap, gasping when he grows harder, his eyes flintier. His touch digs more firmly into my sides and I jerk up and back while he hisses expletives, my womanhood turning damper around his impaling erection. “Fuck yeah,” he growls, slapping my ass hard. “Wiggle around on it, baby.”
I do as he says. I wiggle and squirm while he tickles me, giggling uncontrollably.
Until he bares his teeth and rams his hips upward, bouncing me on his lap several times, rattling my molars. My scream splits the air, an orgasm that has been building for months careening through me, pulling every one of my muscles taut, dropping me into an endless round of spasms. Tight, release, tight, release, moisture flooding down where our bodies join and dripping to the rug. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” I chant, writhing as close as possible, grinding my womanhood against the base of his hardness, the rub of my clit making the climax fuller, longer, so overwhelming that my vision triples.
“Broke into your apartment while you were in class. Every fucking day. Jacked off with everything you own. Stroked my cock with your pillows and scrunchies and panties.” His hands take my backside in a bruising grip and he starts to pull me up and back, impaling me again, again, again on his hardness, his hips thrusting up to add to the impact. “Even broke in a few times while you were there, sleeping like a little princess with these buns up for grabs.” He spanks me roughly, one cheek after the other. Smack. Smack. “Licked in between them once, couldn’t help it. Had to get some sugar, baby, and your legs opened right up in those sheets, wanting more. Never come so hard in my life. Right there on the shitty carpet.” The rhythm of his body entering mine grows jagged, urgent, his breathing erratic. “Until now, huh? You’re about to fuck me up so bad with that tight little brat hole, aren’t you? You know what Daddy needs. That wet cram. Those hips hitting just right. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
I’m picked up and laid down on the floor, pinned, his hips giving one final drive before he begins to shudder, his body straining, flexed. Getting deep as he can before letting go, his jaw slackening, thick semen filling me almost instantly and seeping down around the connection of our bodies, his body jolting with aftershocks, more releases of moisture, for long, fraught moments, our hands clinging, eyes locked. Looking into one another’s souls.
“I love you, Tatum,” he rasps.
“I love you, too. Hoss. Daniel. Whoever you are, whoever you’ll be.”
He can’t speak for long moments. “One of these days, I’m going to get the girl of my dreams into an actual bed,” he finally says into my neck, his mouth worshipping me with kisses.
“How about today?” I whisper, bringing his forehead down to mine, letting him see how much I adore him. Accept him. Always and forever. “We have nothing but time.”
Epilogue
Daniel
Five Years Later
I’m late for back to school night.
I hate running behind. Hate knowing Tatum is waiting for me, wondering where I am. The very thought of her being disappointed has me wiping sweat from my brow while crossing the street toward the elementary school our son attends. I don’t disappoint my wife—not fucking ever. But thanks to a shipment arriving just as I locked up Comeback Comics for the day, the delay was unavoidable. I’m fifteen minutes behind.
When I reach the front of the school, I’m about to jog up the steps to the main entrance, until I realize I can see our son’s classroom from the street. It’s lit up, full of parents. No kids. They’re all home with grandparents—or a babysitter, like Daniel Jr.
I step onto the grass and peer through the window, my gaze seeking out my wife immediately, my cock growing the moment I find her in the back of the room, leaning against the wall in her pretty blue dress, listening intently to the teacher. Her purse is at her feet, sketchpad sticking up out of the top, as usual.
God, I’m so proud of her.
She doesn’t know it yet, but today’s shipment contained her very first edition of her first published comic—Truck Stop Idol. It will be waiting on the front window display when we arrive for work in the morning and I can’t wait to see her light up. Can’t wait to tell her how proud she makes me. To be her best friend, her husband, the father of her child. Her lover.
Yeah. I’m her lover. Although that word doesn’t really describe what we do together in bed. Not completely. I’m her lover at times, yes, when she wants it sweet and slow. Usually when she’s getting close to her period and feeling emotional. I stroke deep, look her in the eye and tell her she’s perfect, because hell, that’s what she is. Other times, I’m the man who holds her throat and fucks her face down in the storage room of the shop. I’m the man who takes her home on our lunch break and licks her clit until she breaks, sobbing and shaking and lacking in any filter. Those are my favorite times. When her guard is totally down and she admits to being obsessed with me. The way I’m fucking obsessed with her. Endlessly. Madly.