by Measha Stone
She used two fingers to slide between her own folds, finding herself soaked for him. He hadn’t even touched her but her body knew to be ready, to take him, to give to him, to obey him.
Biting down on her lower lip, she managed to keep her groan in when her fingers reached her clit. No longer able to deny herself, she circled the engorged nub and pressed harder down on it while lifting her hips.
“That’s my girl, be a good girl for me.” His fingers tightened around her knee and she shoved two fingers into her passage, rubbing her clit with the heel of her palm.
Her heated passage clenched around her fingers. Her eyes closed, and she turned her face away from him, thrusting her fingers into her own body while pushing her hips upward. She let go of her lip and gasped as her passage became wetter, thicker with her own arousal, her own need.
“Oh, Daddy. Please.” She opened her eyes and found his. He was watching her, and she grabbed his arm with her free hand.
“What is it? What do you need from Daddy?” He lowered his face, coming closer to her, his nose almost touching hers. But his lips, they were too far away. She wanted to taste him, to kiss him while she stroked herself, because she couldn’t stop. Not now, not with his warm hand moving from her knee to her thigh, holding her leg against his. Not with his hot breath washing over her face while she panted and fucked her own fingers. There would be no stopping.
“I need to come. Oh, god. I need to come!”
Keeping one hand on her thigh, his other hand came to her breast, playing with her nipple. Gently at first, but then harder, pinching and twisting.
“I haven’t said you can. And good little girls listen to their daddies.”
“Please!” She slowed her thrusts, gentled the pressure on her clit, because anything else would have shoved her head first into the very explosion he seemed set on denying her.
“Almost. But not yet.” He smiled. An evil, dry smile that made her both angry and excited at the same time. He wouldn’t leave her dangling for long, she knew that. He took too much pleasure in her finding her release, but the pressure was unbearable, and she wasn’t sure how long she could be good for him.
And she wanted to be good for him.
His hand moved from her thigh, trailing down to her sex, and covering her hand with his own. “Keep fucking yourself,” he ordered and pinched her nipple harder.
She thrust her hips upward, wanting his touch, wanting him.
“You’re being such a good girl for me today.” He lowered himself, moving on the bed so he could wrap his lips around her nipple, replacing his fingers.
The new sensation, the wet, soft texture of his tongue running over her now-tender nipple nearly undid her.
“Oh!” She arched again, biting hard on her lip to try and contain the orgasm that threatened to take away her good girl status at any second.
“Please, I have to,” she begged. She wasn’t above it, not at that moment. Paradise hung so close to her, and it was only his word that kept her from diving into it.
The hand covering hers pressed down harder, putting more pressure on her clit. When she tried to slow her fingers, he put pressure there too. “Fuck harder, faster, come unraveled for me. Come for me, Carissa-girl.”
She moved her legs, spreading herself wider, and pushed her fingers in with more force.
“I want to hear you come,” he whispered against her nipple. “Come for me, Carissa-girl.”
His hand pressed harder, her fingers dove deeper, and at one more nip of his teeth around her nipple, she arched off the bed and cried out. She still held on to him with her left hand, digging her nails into his skin as the immense waves of her orgasm spun her from reality. She could hear him, hear his words of encouragement, riding her through the orgasm, but none of it registered. The soft tone of his arousal and approval covered her, softening her landing as the pulsations around her fingers began to ease.
Air came harshly to her, and she gulped it in. Her fingers slid from her passage but her hand stayed where it was. He was still holding her there, and he didn’t seem likely to move.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he said, leaving her breast and kissing her lips. She moaned into the kiss. His lips pressed hard against hers, and just as she opened to him, inviting him in, he pulled back and smiled down at her.
He gripped the wrist of the hand she’d just found her pleasure with and brought it to his mouth. Parting his lips, he took her two fingers inside and twirled his tongue around them, sucking the digits clean. She swallowed, enjoying the vision almost too much.
When he was finished, he dropped her hand to her belly and moved off the bed. He made quick work of unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants. She watched, fascinated by the amount of control he possessed over his own body. His cock looked ready to burst when he dropped his boxers, but he’d waited. He hadn’t taken any moves to find his own release.
“Keep your thighs open,” he ordered and climbed between her legs. As if she’d close herself off from him after the explosion he’d just caused in her body. It may have been her fingers doing the work, but it was him, all him who had made her orgasm the mind-altering event it was.
His hand wrapped around his thick shaft, positioning it at her entrance. She gripped her thighs with both hands, watching as he pumped his cock.
“Such a good girl for Daddy.” And although he’d already said that, had already told her how much it pleased him, the approval and the pride threaded in his tone made her smile, made her chest expand with pride.
He looked ready to thrust into her, but he could read her body better than she herself. He eased into her passage, moving slowly and letting her stretch around him. She’d already come, she’d already shattered into a million pieces. Her clit was still sensitive from her orgasm, her entrance still recovering from the explosion just moments before, but everything calmed beneath his touch.
He rocked over her in slow, deliberate thrusts. His hands splayed out on either side of her head, his face only a breath away. His eyes bored into hers, but she didn’t look away this time. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to. He was a man possessed, a man in possession of what was his, and she didn’t want to see anything other than that look of ownership, that look of pride in his eyes as he ground his pelvis into her. Not too much, not too little, the perfect amount of friction against her clit.
The pressure began to build again, he started to thrust harder, faster. His eyes never left hers. Guttural sounds of his pleasure filled the space between them. Her own moans were lost in the air, mingling with the light creaking of her mattress.
“Come for me again, Carissa. I want to feel you come.” He dove deeper into her, pressing his body against her clit. She arched upward, taking him, wanting everything he could give her.
She didn’t think it possible, so soon after a hard orgasm had ripped through her. But his words, his tone, the way he seemed to own her with just his stare brought her to the brink and with one more hard thrust, she toppled over the edge. Another mind-bending release took her away and let her see the tenderness with which he fucked her, the sweetness of his possession and the passion of his desire.
He moved his hand to grip her hip and pushed harder into her, his breaths coming faster, his groans more animalistic. Just as the waves began to subside within her, he groaned and stilled, finding his own release, and his seed pumped into her body.
He let out a long breath and rested his forehead against hers, his hot breath mingling with her own.
“I probably could have forgone the run today,” she whispered after several silent moments stretched out between them.
He laughed and slapped her hip. “Yeah, you probably could have.”
Slipping from her body, he moved to her side, pulling her to cuddle beside him. She could feel his seed spilling from her, knowing she should get up and clean herself, but he wouldn’t let her go.
“I’ll take care of it,” he promised, again reading her thoughts. “I’ll take care of e
verything if you’ll only give over and let me.” A kiss pressed against her forehead.
And in that moment, with his arms wrapped around her, his heart pounding beneath her ear on his chest, she could see herself doing it. Doing exactly what he asked, giving over completely, for more than just a set amount of time.
But what scared her, what made her mouth dry with fear, was that she couldn’t just see it—she wanted it as well.
Chapter 9
“My father has invited us over to dinner on Sunday night,” Jamison said over an impromptu meal of pizza and beer. His girl didn’t know how to keep a fridge stocked. He’d tried to rustle up something for them to eat, but only found several containers of leftover take out and some eggs.
“Your father?” She seemed to blanch a bit at the mention of his father. Given her thoughts on any longstanding relationship between them, he understood, but meeting Barron Croft wasn’t the same as meeting your lover’s father. It was business.
“He’s trying to convince me to join him on a new business venture. It’s just a business dinner, really.” He took a pull of his beer. Her kitchen was a bit cramped. He tried to scoot his chair back a bit more to get comfortable and knocked into the pantry door.
“You don’t get along outside of business?” she asked, picking the sausage from her piece of pizza. She’d asked for sausage pizza when he’d suggested they order in, and at first, he thought she’d changed her mind. But she picked off all the sausage and ate it last, after her slice was gone.
“We don’t really talk other than business.” He shrugged, putting his beer back on the table. “Just his way.”
“And your mom? You haven’t mentioned her.” She popped a round bit of the spicy meat into her mouth.
His stomach tightened. It had been almost two decades since he’d seen his mother, but still the mention of her could make his gut twist.
“I haven’t seen her. She and my father divorced when I was seven.” Divorced was the legal term but abandoned was more accurate.
“Oh.” He watched her expression, looking for pity. Most woman who knew he’d grown up without a mother quickly saw that as a reason for his overprotective nature, and a reason to show him how much a woman could love a man. They wanted to heal a part of him that didn’t need healing, but not Carissa. That one little word had been her response and there wasn’t anything lurking behind it. Like she understood, she got it, and didn’t see anything to feel sorry for.
“She didn’t fight for custody? I mean, your father is a big guy to go up against, but there wasn’t a fight?” More curiosity than pity laced her tone. Hope, maybe. Did she hope, like he had for so many years, that his mother had at least fought for him before walking away?
“No. Just decided motherhood and being my dad’s wife wasn’t what she wanted so she walked.” He grabbed his beer and took another swig. He’d gotten over his mother’s betrayal years ago.
His father, distant and cold, hadn’t paid him much notice really but he’d made sure Jamison had an excellent education and everything else he needed to grow up successful.
“What about you? Your parents still married?”
She gave a laugh.
“No.” Her fingers picked at the label on her beer bottle. “Last I heard from my dad, he was living somewhere in Texas. New wife, new life. But that was years ago, who knows where he is or what he’s up to. Not much of a settler.” She gave him a smile but it didn’t quite touch her eyes. He didn’t see sadness, and he didn’t suspect that she wanted any more pity than he did over her broken home.
“How about your mom? She still lives in Chicago?” He wasn’t sure what made him press her about her parents. She didn’t look any more comfortable about the topic than he was, but he needed to know more about her. He wanted to know about all her bumps and bruises, everything about her.
“Yeah. Well, the suburbs. She lives out in Carpentersville with whichever current boyfriend she has.” He could make out the distaste she had for her mother in her tone. “We don’t see each other very often. It’s good. We’ve never been very close—she’s lived a bit of a nomad’s life, and I prefer to be settled. When she left the city to head out to the burbs with one of her boyfriends, I grabbed the first apartment I could find and stayed put.”
“What about nursing school, did you do that here in the city?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Worked my ass off to pay for what I could, student loans, and a grant or two, and I was able to get through.”
He imagined her working herself to the bone in order to provide a life for herself where she didn’t need to depend on an absent mother and father.
“A lot of stepdads run through your childhood?” He wasn’t sure what made him ask that question. He’d had a few stepmoms in his life, but they’d mostly ignored him like his father once the rings were exchanged.
“Not dads, just men. Mom’s still looking for her Prince Charming, I think.” She smiled again and shook her head a little. “Funny. We both grew up with our parents broken, but only one of us still thinks relationships work.”
His chest tightened. “Relationships work with two people who put in the effort.” He hadn’t meant to sound hard, but there it was. His mother hadn’t tried, and his father hadn’t tried with any of his wives. But Jamison would. Fuck. He’d give everything he had to make it work with the right woman. Even if she didn’t believe in relationships.
“Your mom never tried to explain?” she asked.
He huffed. She was changing the topic but that was fine. They were making progress, even if she couldn’t admit to it yet.
“No, she never said a word, never sent a card or called. Just left.”
Carissa’s brow furrowed and she took a sip of her beer. “Then how do you know she just up and went? I mean, you were seven—how did you know what was really going on? Maybe your father didn’t let her come around. He’s not exactly a nice man.”
He should have felt insulted. Wouldn’t any son feel at least annoyed if his girlfriend said something like that about his father? But she wasn’t wrong. His father was calculating and cold. If he wanted something, he took it, if he needed something, he took it and he never gave back or gave at all unless it benefited him in some way. Even when it came to his son.
“You know my father?” he asked, more curious than insulted.
“No, not really. Garrick’s mentioned him a few times and he’s never come across as a real warm guy.” She blushed. “I didn’t mean to insult him, or you.”
He leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath. “No, you’re right. He’s not a good guy. All business with him.”
“Would you want to talk with your mom if you knew where she was?”
Why was she pushing the subject of his mom? The woman had walked out on him and never looked back. He’d stopped wishing he could talk to her again before the first pimple had popped up on his pubescent face.
“You think my father paid her off or something? To stay away?” He let himself laugh at the idea. “As much as my father loves to win, I doubt even he would do that.”
She lowered her gaze. “You didn’t answer the question.”
“I don’t know.” What would he even say to his mother after all the years she’d been gone from his life? Could they even have a conversation that wouldn’t leave a sour, bitter taste behind? “What about your father?”
“No. I’m better off on my own. But I know where I stand with both of them. You have this unfinished part of your childhood,”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” He laughed. She’d struck a nerve though.
As though sensing the subject was getting too hard to keep light, she asked about meeting his father.
“He wants Garrick and Jude to be there, too. Like I said, a business dinner. He wants to build a hotel here in the city, and he wants us to go in on it with him.”
“Don’t you already own like half the city?” she questioned, popping the last bit of sausage into her mouth.
; “No, far from it. I just own little shares in a variety of businesses and clubs. I work with my father on real estate deals, but we’ve never done something like this before.”
“Hmm.” She nodded and picked up her plate. “You done?” She reached for his and he handed it to her.
He watched her take the plates to the sink and rinse them before putting them in the dishwasher. When she opened the door to the dishwasher, he noticed a few other plates with dried remnants of food.
“When’s the last time you ran that thing?” he asked, coming up behind her and pointing at a dish.
“If it’s not full, I don’t run it.” She shrugged, pushed the shelf back in and closed the door.
“That reminds me, the coffee maker was still on when I got here. It was burning.”
“Oh, crap.” She picked up the carafe and studied it. “It’s still okay.” She flashed him a smile and went about setting it in the sink and filling it with water.
“How many have you ruined doing that?” he asked, suddenly annoyed at how little she seemed to pay attention to minor things like food and her safety.
“Just two.” She winked and finished cleaning up the last of the pizza and putting the box in the fridge alongside a few other containers.
“Carissa, you’re a nurse. You have to know this isn’t a healthy way of living.”
She sighed, a heavy I-don’t-want to-talk-about-this sigh. “As a nurse, I understand it, but as a nurse who often works double shifts, or odd shifts and doesn’t have a lot of time to cook, I understand the necessity.”
“So, if we went over to Jade’s apartment, we’d find the same thing?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged as she told that lie.
“Where’s your computer?” he asked. It was time she started letting him take care of things for her, especially since she wasn’t doing them for herself.
