Page 33 of Sexy Bad Daddy

“This is a bad idea.” Look at me, still able to think rationally.

He shakes his head. “This is an excellent idea.” His hand slips under the hem of my shirt and wraps around my back, his short, blunt nails gently scraping my skin. I close my eyes and lean my head against the wall. This is an excellent idea.

He feathers his lips across mine, but when I open my mouth to invite a deeper kiss, he’s already gone, nibbling his way over my cheek to my ear where he bites the lobe. I cry out and rotate my hips, seeking his body. He’s too far away.

“Closer,” I whisper.

And then he’s there, his knee wedged between my thighs so that I’m riding his leg. He’s still holding my hands prisoner and doesn’t let go when I try to pull free because I want to touch him. The fire in my belly flares brighter, hotter, and I need to shed my clothes because I think I might melt.

Luckily, Garrett’s damn good at reading my mind. He releases my hands long enough to flip my shirt over my head, knocking his hat off in the process, and then he grabs my wrists again, keeping them pinned above my head. His other hand is on my ass, pressing me against his leg. I rotate my hips because the friction feels damn good. He dips his head and licks the hollow between my breasts, and I’m arching my back and making noises that hopefully sound sexy and not like some dying animal.

His free hand strokes up my back again, and there’s that gasping moment of release when he unsnaps my bra. Pushing it aside, he shifts to the right until he finds my nipple and sucks it into his mouth, hard, so fucking hard. I cry out from the pleasure/pain combination and struggle against his other hand, still clamped around my wrists. I feel him smile against my breast, so I give up and grind against his leg instead. I just need a goddamn release.

But then he abruptly stops and straightens, pulling out from between my thighs, just as I’m about to explode. “Come back,” I whimper, so desperate for release I’d probably agree to damn near anything at the moment.

“Keep your hands above your head,” he orders, giving me a faux stern look. If my brain weren’t so soaked with need, I would stick out my tongue, but instead I nod, my eyes wide, watching the concentration on his face while he slowly pulls his hand away from mine.

When he’s apparently satisfied I’m not going to move, he reaches for my jeans, tugging at the button and pulling down the zipper. He slides his hands into the waist and then pushes them down over my hips, taking my panties with them.

But he’s still dressed. The first time we hooked up, I’d been so desperate for him to be inside me, I didn’t take the time to enjoy the feel of my hands on his bare skin. I bet it’s smooth, covering all that hard muscle. And does he have a happy trail? I can’t remember, but I need to find out.

He straightens and grabs my hands, which are fisted in the cotton covering his torso, leaving me balancing with one foot tangled in the leg of my skinny jeans. “I said, keep your hands above your head,” he says, his brow furrowed over shiny blue eyes with dilated pupils.

“Your shirt,” I protest. “I want to see you, too.”

Shaking his head, he sheds the bright pink polo. “Happy?”

Those sharp peaks and valleys, the rounded muscles, the dark line of hair that disappears into the waistband of his jeans is so much better than my fantasies. “Oh yes.” I practically breathe the words, my chest heaving, my body wound as tightly as a spinning top.

With a smirk, he says, “Hands. Above head. Got it?” And then he drops to his knees and I slam my head back against the wall so hard there’s a burst of pain in the back of my skull. But it only lasts a moment, until he leans forward and lifts one of my legs and drapes it over his shoulder. He stares at my pussy for a second before running a finger over the seam, leaving a trail of electricity in its wake. I lean my head against the wall—gentler this time—and close my eyes.

Something strokes me, hot and wet and slightly rough. His tongue. Long rasps, like he’s trying to lap up every drop of my arousal. Problem is, every time he does that, he creates more. He’s never going to get it all. Hopefully, that knowledge won’t stop him from trying, because, oh God—

I bow forward, reaching down to thread my fingers in his hair. He leans back to look up at me. “I told you—”

“Don’t stop!” I squeeze my fists in his hair and shove his face into my crotch. “Oh my God, don’t stop.”

I feel his chuckle reverberate against my skin and his muffled reply is, “Yes, ma’am,” but I barely comprehend. I’m already gone; one more lick and I’m buried under the tidal wave of the most intense climax I can recall having pretty much ever.

He knows it, too. His hands are on my ass cheeks and he’s digging his fingers into my flesh as he continues to lap at me, dragging out the orgasm until I’m squirming to get away because the sensation is just too damn intense.

When he finally relents, he surges to his feet, my leg dropping to wrap around his hip while he struggles with his jeans with one hand and the other digs what I presume is a condom out of his pocket. When the foil packet appears in his hand, I snag it, taking care of unwrapping it while he shoves his pants down just enough to free his straining cock.

I start to wrap him, but he stops me and says, “Better let me. I’m pretty much hanging on by a thread here.”

Now he’s grasping my ass again, pressing against my opening as I eagerly wiggle in anticipation, and then he’s there, sinking into me, and it’s the second greatest feeling in the world.

I’m telling you, that orgasm was goddamn amazing.

There’s a knock on the door, followed by a voice calling out, “Hel-lo! Anyone home?”

“Fuck me,” Garrett bites out, but he doesn’t stop. In fact, he starts pounding faster, and holy hell it’s so hot, except—

“Garrett, that sounds like—”

“Yeah—uh—Paynt—uh—and Chloe—uh-uh.”

“Your brother? Shit! Stop—oh…” He’s hammering me like a man possessed, and I’ll be damned if it isn’t sending me climbing that peak again. Screw the people I can hear moving about the apartment—I’m on the cusp of another orgasm, and I can’t make too much noise, although Garrett’s grunting loudly enough that I don’t know how they can’t hear him, and then—

“Gah!” He slams into me one last time and freezes, squeezing my ass so hard, if I don’t have permanent indentions, I’ll definitely have bruises. And then he pulls out and steps away so quickly, I stumble and have to grab the dresser to keep from falling over.

He tugs up his pants while hopping around the room, grabbing my clothes and tossing them at me. “I’ll stall them while you get dressed,” he says, and then he drops the used condom into the wastebasket, pulls his shirt over his head, and slips from the room, slamming the door closed behind him.

Holy hell, am I supposed to go out there and face his brother and fiancé?

And goddamn it, he finished before I could!

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