Page 111 of Rescued by the Single Dad

He nipped her again.

She gasped, but it was quickly snuffed out by a moan and her pelvis churned, seeking friction.

Sliding one hand between her legs, he gently sought her center.

She was already soaked.

He gathered a bit of that natural, delicious lubricant and inched his fingers forward a little more until he found that throbbing little button, giving it a playful rub. Her legs wobbled.

Chuckling, he scooted up closer behind her, pressing his cock—still hard as fuck in his shorts—against her ass, holding her in position so if her knees did buckle, he’d keep her safe.

He wiggled his fingers again.

She groaned and shoved her ass even harder against him, eliciting a groan from him.

“Clint ...” she mewled.

“I thought you wanted me to bend you over.”

“I do ...”

He liked tipsy Brooke. She was playful but also demanding. Sober Brooke was also hot as fuck. But the fact that the alcohol in her system had loosened her up a bit was fun.

She shimmied her butt against him again. “Please fuck me. Please.”

“Oooh, I like it when you beg. You know that.”

“That’s why I’m doing it,” she snapped back, turning her head to give him a mock glare that simply pulled a big dumb smile from him.

He waggled his fingers over her clit again, and she tilted her hips in such a way. Like she was trying to get him to also slip a finger inside her. She was hungry. She wanted him to fill her up.

He would.

Just not yet.

He liked playing with her. He liked keeping her focused on them and what he was doing to her rather than everything outside and all the troubles in her life. Right there, in that moment, in that space, she was safe. She’d always be safe with him. Safe to be herself. She didn’t have to pretend or act like everything was all right. He’d shoulder her burden and carry her worry. He’d shield her from the pain as best he could.

“I need a cock inside me,” she said in a pleading whimper. “Preferably yours, but at this point, I’m not picky.”

Oooh, she knew exactly what she was doing. That earned her another bite on the butt cheek, followed by a little smack. A smack that made her croon and the flesh of her ass pink up beautifully.

“Cheeky,” he murmured.

Her legs were spread as much as possible, given that she was still in her slip-on shoes and her yoga pants were around her ankles.

He could make it work, but he’d rather she be a bit more pliant, so removing his fingers from between her legs he dropped to a crouch and carefully removed her shoes and relieved her of her pants, leaving her standing there bare from the waist down.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he rumbled, trailing his hands back up one of her legs from her ankle to her ass cheek. She trembled under his touch. When he reached the bottom curve of her cheek, he gave it a little nip, and she promptly pushed herself back against his face. “Well, if you insist.” Then he slid his tongue between her legs and found her clit again.

“Oh my God,” she cried, probably louder than she intended. Her words echoed off the walls and rafters.

Her hips bucked. His tongue never stopped on her clit. She panted and moaned. Gyrated against his face as he savored every drop of that sweet honey that fell across his tongue.

His cock strained against his zipper, and in his crouched position, it wasn’t particularly comfortable. But he also didn’t want to stop. He wanted to get her there. He wanted to push her over the edge and make her feel as good as he felt just being around her.

Like he could do anything.

Like his heart had finally healed enough to allow another person to take up space in it.

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