Page 14 of Sugar Dusted Dad Bod

God damn.

How long have I wanted this girl? How many nights have I laid awake in my bed, lonely and self-loathing, refusing to let myself touch below the waist because that’s not what a good boss would do?

Now here I am, Cady panting in my lap, her hands buried in my hair as she sucks on my tongue. Funny how things work out. And I’d be second-guessing everything, calling myself a creep, except Cady’s been driving this bus from the start. She’s the one who dropped to her knees. She’s the one who got sad over that mistletoe when I didn’t ask for a kiss.

So maybe it’s time to trust her. Maybe it’s time to let myself believe that Cady’s a grown woman who knows what she wants.

Maybe it’s time to accept this isn’t a dream.

“Can I—?”

My hand slides between Cady’s warm, soft thighs and creeps toward her damp core. She moans and nods, peppering desperate kisses all over my face.

Well, then.

And… Cady’s wetter than a slip-n-slide down here. Swollen and slick and needy as hell, with her whole body trembling when my fingertips brush through her damp curls to find her slit. Her back arches, and she moans like a demon when I rub the tight nub of nerves.

“I’ve got you.” My words are pressed into her neck as Cady pants in my ear. “I’ve got you. Feel this?” My pointer finger sweeps along her slit, gliding like an ice skater on a pond. “You’re so wet, baby. You really want this, don’t you?”

Her laugh is strangled. “Uh-huh.”

“I’ve wanted it too.” My fingertip circles her entrance. Cady’s arms tighten around my neck. “Ever since the first day I laid eyes on you, I’ve wanted it. You’re so goddamn perfect, Cady.”

When I push inside her to the first knuckle, we both tense up—then gust out twin sighs as her body relaxes for me.Yes.Finally.

“K-keep going.” Cady’s flushed face is buried in my neck, but her hips roll, coaxing my finger deeper. “Jasper, keep going.”

No fear.

I work my way inside steadily, pumping one knuckle deeper at a time, my finger slick and shining in the candlelight. And Cady urges me on with helpless moans and breathless little cries, before begging me to add a second finger.

I do it.

Of course I do it.

I add a second finger, and I work my girl with them both, all the while rubbing her clit with my thumb. There’s no better feeling in the world than the sensation of Cady’s tight channel gripping me; no greater satisfaction than hearing her breath get heavy and her words slur.

She comes on my fingers, back arched and her stomach muscles shuddering. Cady squeezes her eyes shut and tilts her head back to the ceiling—and when she finally floats back down to earth, when her body relaxes enough to slide my fingers out, I figure we’re done for the night. We’re done, and I’ll count myself the luckiest man on the planet. Maybe one day she’ll let me touch her again.

But Cady fixes me with those hazy brown eyes. “Wait,” she says, when I move to tuck myself away and buckle back up. “Don’t you want to…?”

Thud. Thud.My booming heartbeat is the loudest thing in this room.

Is she serious?

I shake my head. “Of course I want to. I haven’t lost my damn mind, Cady.”

Her relieved smile is like the sun shining through the clouds.

It takes some rearranging. Some logistics are required. At one point Cady huffs and leans forward, untying her boots with jerky tugs on the laces, before kicking them off with two muffled thumps. Then her leggings and panties follow, and she’s free to turn in my lap, her back to my front, her legs sprawling over my spread knees.

My assistant baker leans forward and yanks off her tunic and bra too, tossing them across the room for good measure. When she settles back against me, she’s not wearing a single stitch of fabric.

Hot damn.

I glance at the window. The snow’s still coming down thick out there, the swirling clouds of snowflakes enough to block the street’s view—thank god.

Don’t want anyone ever seeing Cady like this.

---