Page 75 of Rescued by the Single Dad

He sucked on her nipple, then scissored his teeth.

Her pussy spasmed.

He did it again.

Her pussy tightened around his cock.

He bit harder.

She rocked harder against him. The change in angle was exquisite, and she was close to detonation.

Then he pinched the other nipple, and the orgasm hit her without warning.

She stilled over him, her nipple in his mouth as warmth spread through her lower belly and curved around the bottom of her spine in a liquid caress. Her mouth was right over his shoulder and, as if on instinct, she parted her lips and sunk her teeth into his flesh. The muscle was hard, and he seemed to flex the moment she bit down. A small grunt was the only response from him she got, but it wasn’t a grunt of pain—or maybe it was. But he was a tough cookie and could take it.

Over and over, the waves of bliss radiated outward from her center, into her fingers and toes as her pussy clenched around him and her clit throbbed.

She still kept her teeth on his shoulder. Then she laved at the skin with her tongue, tasting him. He was delicious. Slightly salty from sweat, but mostly just clean and wonderful.

Clint stiffened beneath her, his mouth on her breast paused and he let out a beastly grunt just as his cock began to pulse inside her. Warm, quick puffs of air hit her breast where he breathed through his nose. She smiled around his shoulder and allowed the last remaining ribbons of pleasure to wrap around her like a protective cocoon.

Eventually, her muscles relaxed, and she released her teeth from his flesh, lifting up to sit on his lap again.

Clint’s eyes were closed, but a placid, somewhat crooked smile curved his mouth.

She leaned down and kissed him, keeping her lips closed.

He smiled against her mouth, and his lips parted. She did the same, and their kiss deepened. Tongues tangling, teeth nipping and scraping.

He wrapped his arms around her in a tight band, his body beginning to shake in a laugh. “You’re feral, woman,” he said with a chuckle.

She sat back up and glanced at his shoulder where deep teeth indentations pressed into his muscle.

She bit her lip. “Sorry ... not sorry.”

His grin made her lower belly quiver. “Never apologize for going feral on me. I like it.”

Heat bloomed in her cheeks. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh no you won’t. I’ll carry you. Hang on.”

She slid off his waist onto the bed, and he swung his legs over the side to stand up, then he scooped her up and carried her to the bathroom so she could pee.

They were back in bed moments later, and he tugged her tight against him in a spoon position.

“Sleep, Brooke. Tomorrow you’ll have clothes of your own, and your brother will be here. Things will start to make sense again. And maybe we’ll get some insight into who wants you dead.”

She laced her fingers through his and clutched their combined hands to her chest just as a hot tear slid down her temple and onto the pillow.

He kissed her back. “It’s all going to work out. I promise.”

But as good as it felt to be in Clint’s arms and to try to believe that everything would work out, she knew better. If her childhood had taught her anything, it was that fairy tales didn’t exist and happily ever afters were for romance novels and Disney princesses.

And this wasn’t a romance novel, and she was a shitty Disney princess. She didn’t even have an animal sidekick. So she probably wasn’t going to get a happily ever after.

No, in Brooke’s life, if it seemed too good to be true, it usually was.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

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