Page 67 of Challenged by the Single Dad

She never wanted to it to stop. And yet, she’d never craved an orgasm more.

Releasing her hip with one hand, he grabbed her arm, pulling her fingers out from between her legs, and pinning her hand at her back. His harsh pounding never ceased, which meant the remaining arm that kept her up began to tremble under her weight and his force.

The orgasm deep in her belly brewed and frothed like a whirlpool of desire, gaining momentum, growing in size and strength. Her pussy quivered around him as he split her open, driving harder, faster, and deeper than ever. Everything that wasn’t touching him throbbed with the need to. Her breasts ached as they gently swayed and hung beneath her. Her nipples were tender and tight against her bra, and her clit had probably doubled in size and pulsed with a heartbeat of its own.

She became vaguely aware of a warm trickle making its way down the inside of her thigh.

He hadn’t even come yet, so that was all her. That was her arousal. Her unbridled desire for him overflowing from her body.

With his one hand holding her wrist pinned to her lower back, he reached forward and grabbed her by the hair with his other hand, hauling her head backward just enough to put a mild strain on her neck, but not so much it was painful or she’d need to visit the chiropractor.

His grip on her scalp was harsh. Possessive. Electric.

But his rhythm was beginning to falter. Though still hard, it wasn’t as steady or deliberate. Was he struggling to hang on as much as she was? Because she could tip over the cliffside at any point. All he needed to do was tell her to come and she’d go off like a cannon with a half-inch fuse.

“God, you take my cock so well,” he growled. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“No … we shouldn’t.”

But that just made it so much hotter. The forbidden aspect of it. The fact that he was her boss, this was their place of work, and unlike last night, it was the morning and the place was not empty.

They could be interrupted at any point.

And that just made it all the hotter.

This was so unlike her.

She wasn’t a risk taker. She wasn’t an exhibitionist. The kinkiest place she’d ever had sex—before last night—was a tent in a state park campground. And even then, she’d been as quiet as the dead.

Right now, neither of them were quiet.

“Fuck,” he grunted. “I’m going to—”

“Me too.”

“God. Come for me, Chloe. Come all over my cock.”

That was the demand she craved. The permission she needed. The spark reached the end of her fuse, and she went off like cannon full of way too much gunpowder. Every cell in her body woke up, vibrating from the pleasure that spun out of her center in gorgeous ribbons, wrapping around her muscles, her bones, and into every limb until she shook with an unfettered bliss.

“Good girl,” he crooned, low and primal behind her. His grip on her hair and wrist tightened to just the slightest point of pain. He grunted, stilled, and let go. A long, low, “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” fled his lips as he poured himself inside of her, the steady pulsing of his cock just pushing her orgasm longer until her arm threatened to give out beneath her.

But she held on.

For dear life.

She couldn’t remember the last time—if ever—she’d come without clitoral stimulation, and yet, she hadn’t needed any with Dom just now. His dominance, his unabandoned need for her—not to mention that grip on her hair and wrist, and his relentless pounding—it was all more than enough to pitch her over the edge.

When he exhaled long and slow, to indicate the final moments of his release, she gave him one last squeeze inside of her, and he released her hair and wrist.

She made a noise of protest that shocked her, when he pulled free of her body, and his chuckle just made her nipples pebble all over again.

The zip of his jeans echoed like a monastery gong in the room, and she quickly yanked up her underwear and yoga pants before spinning around. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get you a warm, wet paper towel this time,” he said with regret in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “I only live like twenty feet away. I can just run home.”

“Right,” he breathed, raking his fingers through his shoulder-length hair. “The cabin.”

“The cabin.”

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