Page 34 of My First and Only Crush

“We have to stop at some point. You need to… We can’t just walk down that hall together in the morning!” I exclaim, because obviously we can’t.

But even though I’m sure that’s the correct, reasonable understanding of our situation, I feel a twinge of regret. I push it down.

Shock sparks on Trick’s face. “You don’t want to?”

“It’s not what I want, it’s?—”

“No,” he says so firmly the rest of my thought dies on my lips. “What you want matters very, very much. Are you afraid of what they might say? Because I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“I’m not…” Emotion wells in my chest. “I’m notafraid.”

He strokes my cheek, so gentle for a big man. “Then what are you feeling right now? Because I don’t like the look on your face. I want to make it go away.”

“I don’t want to make a scene,” I whisper. “It’ll ruin the victory.”

“Fuck. That.” He crowds me into the mattress, heavy on top of me, his face right in front of mine. His thick arms bracket me tight on either side, and as he inhales, his belly expands to press against my quivering tummy. “You are the cherry on top of this win. You are mine, and I am so fucking proud of that. I want to claim you in front of everyone, and nothing will change that.”

“Everyone? Even my dad?”

“Every. One.” He kisses me, his lips firm and warm, his tongue sure and confident. A kiss that says,I’m your Daddy now, and I believe it.

I gasp into his mouth and he deepens the embrace.

As his team parties in the hallway, he works his cock against my pussy, fitting it between my puffy, aching lips and giving me something good to grind against. It feels wicked, how we’re unable to keep our hands off each other, secret touches that feel so electric, when nobody knows I’m in here.

I’m his.

He’s proud of claiming me.

I’m his.

Which makes it easy to nod when he asks me if I want him inside me.

“There will never be anything between us,” he rasps as he fits his cock against my entrance. “Gonna take you bare every day until you start to swell. And then I’ll take you bare again, twice as often, just to celebrate.”

“Yes,” I beg, even as it hurts, even as he pushes inside me and it’s tender and rough and too much—because it’s not quite enough.

I need more.

I need him to fill me up again.

I need us to know the choice we’re making this time.

“Put a baby in me,” I whisper.

He stills, balls deep. His cock throbs, swelling big enough to test my limits. “You want that?”

A newfound confidence zings through me at how much I affect him. “Uh huh. I want to make you a Daddy.”

“God damn it,” he rumbles, and then he kisses me again, and starts moving. “Beg me, Sinclaire. Beg Daddy to fill you up. Show me how much you want this.”

“Please, Daddy.”

“Please what?” His voice is harsh now, demanding.

I love it. “Please… Please breed me.” It comes out weak and watery, and that is not how I feel. “Trick…” That’s better. Stronger. “Fill me up.”

He grunts and thrusts harder.

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