Page 16 of Dad Bod's Daring December

Her inner muscles tighten. Clenching. Seizing. Her breath hitches, her moans climbing higher in pitch as the tension between us mounts. Her hands, strong yet delicate, claw at my back, searching for an anchor against the onslaught of pleasure. Every gasp and moan feeds my desire, spurring me on.

I angle my cock higher on the next thrust, surging deeper. Every pump of my hips stakes my claim. Every clench of her sex makes me hers. Our connection is like a wildfire, threatening to consume us.

A hard thrust. Another. Ember screams her pleasure, bucking against me. Her body arches, offering herself entirely to me, her head thrown back in abandon. She’s flushed, radiant. A goddess of passion. Seeing her splinter, knowing I’m the cause, is my undoing.

Everything narrows to the woman beneath me. She surrounds me. Her scent. Her voice. Her taste. My hips work her hard, mycock taking far more than I planned. Taking everything as her cunt squeezes me like a vise.

My release washes over me, sizzling from my spine through my cock and into my woman. It seizes me, makes me rough. I groan and thrust, wondering when my orgasm will ebb. It doesn’t. My pleasure goes on because I’m still inside her.

Ember. My Firefly.

Brown eyes open, soft and glazed, the pupils blown wide with pleasure. Her lips are swollen and red, her neck chafed from my teeth and beard.

Her chestnut hair is splayed around her flushed face. The sight of her steals my breath and tightens my chest in a way that has nothing to do with my recent exertion. She’s mine. And I’m hers.

I’m still buried deep inside her tight heat, my cock depleted by my orgasm. But not for long. Her breathing shifts. Quickens. I lean forward and lick her velvety nipple, enjoying the jerk of her body against me.

She strokes my back and rakes my hair. “Edward, I-I’m too sensitive. It’s too soon … Ooooh.”

Her protest melts into a soft cry of pleasure as I begin to thrust again, this time slow and deliberate. She winces, but I keep my pace, easing her past the soreness. Taking her nipple in my mouth, I continue to play with the other, squeezing and rolling the hard peak between my fingers, testing how far I can push her.

As it turns out, her limits are boundless. She becomes feral in my arms. Fuck, she loves it a little rough, reveling in the hardpressure of my fingers, the firm suction of my mouth, and the steady thrust of my cock.

She must be sore, but she takes me anyway. And she moans and begs for more.Edward. Edward. Edward.She chants my name like a prayer, and I feel like a fucking god.

I give her everything I have, using my body to bring hers to the edge before spinning us tighter. Higher. Her hands are everywhere—my back and neck, my hair and chest. Running her thumbs across my nipples.

I last longer than the first time, but not long enough. Never long enough with this woman. I can’t sustain my steady rhythm, needing to ride her harder. Deeper.

So I do, wrapping her legs around my waist and propping myself on my elbows above her so the hairs on my chest chafe her swollen nipples. I watch more closely as she finds her release this time. I listen to every breath, whimper, and gasp. I drink her in as her neck arches, her mouth open in a long, hitched moan. I love her strength, her frenzied passion.

I love … her.

I love her.

The thought catches me unawares. Lights a fire beneath my pleasure. How the fuck did I ever think I could resist her? I was lost the first time I took her into my arms on her porch and gazed into her deep brown eyes. Saw the fear there but also the strength. The determination to keep going, to carve out a life despite everything that tried to tear her down.

There was warmth there too. A tenderness that made me want to shelter her from every storm. And a flicker of curiosity, like shewas trying to figure me out even as she braced herself against the threat around her. But it was the spark of defiance, her stubborn will, that sealed my fate. At that moment, I wasn’t simply looking at a woman. I was looking at a survivor. And damn if I didn’t want to be the man who helped her thrive.

Every moment together over the last few weeks has led to this. To my surrender—no, not surrender, but something far deeper. A choice. To let her in, to let her see the man beneath the walls I’ve built, the scars I’ve hidden. A deliberate, undeniable choice to give her the pieces of me I swore I’d never share again. No, the pieces of me I’venevershared.

It’s not defeat—it’s liberation. A breaking of chains I didn’t even realize was holding me back. Because with her, it’s not about giving up—it’s about giving everything. And for the first time in what feels like forever, my world is in alignment. Like I was always meant to find her, to meet her fire with mine.

I come hard and fast, a sharp, all-consuming eruption that shatters me to my core. The intensity is blinding, like I’m unraveling and being set ablaze all at once. Maybe I do fly apart because when the haze clears and I come back down, everything feels different.

I’m rebuilt, reshaped. Fractured pieces of myself, long buried and forgotten, put back together by Ember’s gentle, unwavering touch. By her warmth, her light. She’s remade me, not into someone new, but into the man I think I was always meant to be. I’m whole. Complete.

I’m home.

Chapter 8

Ember

Sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room and illuminating gentle dust particles floating lazily through the air.

I’m cocooned in the softness of my bed, Edward’s arms encircling me, his warmth anchoring me. It’s almost Christmas; the air is charged with that undeniable magic that comes only once a year, wrapping everything in an aura of hope.

I stretch slightly, careful not to wake him, savoring the safety of Edward’s steady embrace. I grin. Last night was… glorious. No other word for it.

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