Who's Your Daddy: Complete Season 1

“We shouldn’t,” I gulped, my better judgement finally winning out against the ridiculous pleasure rising up inside me.

Leander looked surprised, and a little perplexed as I took another short step back from him. I didn’t turn and run away like I ought to have. He wasn’t used to being turned down, that I could see plainly on his face.

Just another reason to turn and run. He was a player. Obviously far more sexually experienced than I was. Ha! Even if I hadn’t been a virgin, this guy was in a whole different league.

“We shouldn’t?” he asked softly. He stayed where he was and didn’t approach, but his eyes seared into mine. “Why not? I can see your pulse fluttering in your throat.”

When he took a small step forward and pressed his thumb against the throbbing vein at my throat… It was so absurdly pleasurable, the small touch of his cool hand against my delicate throat—

I barely kept the moan inside.

I didn’t move or tell him to stop. He wrapped his other fingers lightly around my neck, applying the slightest pressure.

My mind spun as pleasure roared to life in my body. To listen to my better judgement and pull away… or stay and give in to his commanding touch…

8

MIDNIGHT SNACK

Holy crap.

Who was this guy? Who was I? I was a woman feeling a sexual thrill from the hottest man I’d ever shared airspace with putting his hand around my throat. He wasn’t choking me. No, this was an explicitly sexual gesture.

And dear Lord did my body respond. I whimpered a little but was too turned on to be embarrassed by it.

“I want to touch you,” he whispered in the dark.

“Okay,” I whispered back, his commanding touch still around my neck.

He moved quickly. Not so quick I couldn’t have stopped him, but quick enough that it took my breath away at the way my body responded when he pushed me back against the counter. He snugly fit his body between my legs, which he pushed open, hands on my knees.

He wasn’t shy about pressing in against me, and the firm pressure of him there in the spot where he’d created such an ache, oh God—

“What are we doing?” I breathed out, some last little bit of sanity trying to scream through the rising sensations that were so foreign and overwhelming.

“Getting to know each other,” Leander whispered back, his large, cool hand never wavering as it slid up my thigh from my knee all the way to the waistband of my pajama pants.

My eyes all but rolled back in my head at the strong, sensual sureness of his touch.

And then his fingers dipped inside.

“Fuck, you don’t shave,” he groaned, leaning his body against mine as his hand dropped lower. He twisted his wrist so that he was palming me. “I love these little curls.”

Palming me… there.

I gasped again and slumped into him. “Leander,” I hissed in shock as I reached up to clench his shoulders.

“Am I everything you fantasized about?” he asked.

I frowned, trying to catch his gaze. Was that what he thought this was? That I was just using him to live out some celebrity fantasy? But his head was bowed down, and it was clear he was watching his own hand disappear inside my pajama bottoms. Damn, that was hot.

This seemed too important a piece to simply let go, though. So in spite of the pleasure threatening to buckle my knees, I cupped his cheek. I wanted his eyes. He immediately looked up at me like he was surprised by the touch.

“I’m right here,” I said, my voice tremulous with pleasure. “In this moment with you. Leander, the man.”

He kept eye contact, his brows furrowing with intensity as his palm began to move against my sex.

And then I forgot about whatever point I’d been trying to prove because Jesus God. He was— I’d never— How could—? Oh, oh, oh—

I bent my face into his shoulder and my teeth sank in as he rubbed me.

And then, oh God, then he dipped his finger inside my slick wetness. And a pleasure I’d never known my body was capable of burst through me like a bright light and then rippled outwards.

I was left gasping in shock and clinging to Leander like a ragdoll.

Holy shit!

He’d just made me come. In less than three minutes, Leander Mavros had fingered me and made me come.

I mean, I had tried masturbating a few times but it never really went anywhere. I figured I either didn’t understand it, wasn’t doing it right, or simply wasn’t built that way.

And yet here, with one touch of a gorgeous movie star god in a darkened kitchen, I was coming like a freight train. Even as the blissful feelings dissipated, I felt hungry for them all over again. It had all happened so quickly, it barely felt real.