Page 74 of The Single Dad

As I pant for breath beneath him, his cock buried inside me as he holds perfectly still, I take some satisfaction in the fact that Cole looks almost as wrecked as I feel. It’s clearly taking a lot of effort for him to hold back, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

When he starts to move again, his strokes are slow and measured. His thumb is still on my clit, circling with maddening precision, and I feel as if my entire body is being consumed by fire.

“Cole,” I whimper, writhing beneath him. “Fuck, please. Please, please, please. I need to come. I want to come on your cock. God, I’ll be good. Just let me… give me…”

His lips curve up into a wicked smile, his thumb going still. “Not such a tease now, are you, angel?”

Fucking hell, he’s going to kill me.

I shake my head, not caring that my hair is probably a wild mess on the pillow beneath me, sweat-dampened and tangled. “No. Fuck. Oh god, I’m so close. Please.”

“Love it when you beg for me.”

He still doesn’t give me what I want, though. He makes me wait for it, working me right up to the breaking point until I’m practically sobbing with the need for release.

I’ve stopped forming full sentences by this point, can barely even make my lips form words. The only sound coming out of my mouth is a gasping “please,” which I repeat over and over like a mantra. Like a prayer.

And then, finally, Cole pinches my clit.

After the slow, maddening circles of his thumb, the sudden surge of sensation is like a lightning bolt through my entire body. It’s pleasure tinged with just a hint of pain, and it snaps the tension inside me, sending me hurtling headfirst into an orgasm.

I have never in my life come like this.

It’s like a hurricane, a force of nature, stealing my breath and making my muscles lock up as Cole crushes his mouth to mine to muffle my cry of pleasure. I kiss him hard, lifting my head off the pillow to get even closer to him, grounding myself in the feel of his lips and tongue against mine.

“So tight. Fuck, Riley. You’re so. Tight.”

His hips punch forward, driving into me fast and hard as my inner walls squeeze around his cock. Our lips break apart, our sharp breaths mingling as he rests his forehead against mine, fucking me relentlessly as he chases his own release.

He lets out a low, harsh grunt as he comes, spilling into the condom as his body shudders on top of mine.

In the aftermath, he collapses on top of me, his large frame slumping over me as if he doesn’t have the energy to hold himself up. His face is pressed against the side of my neck, and I can feel each puff of air as he exhales sharply, both of us trying to catch our breath. He’s heavy, but there’s something comforting about being pinned by him like this, especially after the intensity of the orgasm that just rocked through me. It feels grounding, like he’s keeping me from floating away.

“Are you okay?” he asks after a moment, shifting some of his weight onto his elbows so that he’s not crushing me. “That was a lot.”

“I’m…” My voice is raspy, and I have to clear my throat. “I’m good. I didn’t—I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

Cole lifts his head. His eyes are warm and languid, and he grins down at me, smoothing my messy hair back from my face. “I like introducing you to new things.”

“Feel free to keep doing it,” I say with a chuckle, my pussy clenching around him.

His jaw tightens in response, and he kisses me once before securing the condom and pulling out. He slips it off and knots it, then tosses it into the little trash can set against one wall of the room, not even bothering to get off the bed to dispose of it. He rolls onto his back, the tension visibly gone from his shoulders as he runs a hand through his hair. For a moment, he closes his eyes.

“It’s been a long day,” he says. “I really needed that.”

I turn onto my side next to him, resisting the urge to let my fingers dance over his bare chest. In the aftermath of sex, I’ve never been quite sure what to do.

We’ve cuddled, obviously, so that kind of close contact isn’t off-limits. But… this entire time, I’ve been fighting the urge to be romantic. Trying to keep the walls up, just like we agreed. So it always feels like a delicate line to walk.

“Has work been stressful?” I finally ask. It’s probably too personal of a question, but I can’t help myself.

He sighs, his broad shoulders shifting in a shrug. “Not particularly. It’s a stressful field, and I work a stressful job. There’s never been any point when it wasn’t stressful.”

The words seem to come easily to him now that he’s so relaxed. I feel a sense of warmth inside me, a desire for closeness. I like seeing him like this—so open and calm. As if all of his worries have melted away.

“Why do you do it?”

He huffs a small laugh. “Honestly, I do it because I like the way it drives me.”

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