Page 47 of Snowed In With The Second Chance Daddy

“If you hadn’t hid your new job, we wouldn’t be here.”

I hold tight to the edge of the table, trying to steady not only my body but my mind. “Youknowwhy I didn’t tell you, I didn’t–”

“I hate that you didn’t tell me. I hate that you ever said you loved me. I hate that I wanted to marry you. I hate–”

Trevor is moving at an impossible speed, pushing himself to the hilt with every thrust, the sound of our bodies colliding echoing through the empty conference room.

If he keeps it up, I’m going to come again. Before him.

No fucking way, I’m not letting that happen. That’s not fair. He doesn’t deserve that, doesn’t deserve to make me come like that again, especially with just his cock.

His arms lock around me. “I hate that I still want to marry you.”

A gasp escapes me, shock and pleasure intertwining.

“I hate that I still– that I still–”

I’m close to the edge. I grab onto his hand, my expression morphing into one of horror and euphoria. I guess they aren’t that different in some respects. Both of them require being taken off-guard, letting go, falling into something out of your control.

“I hate that I still–” He doesn’t manage to finish his sentence before he buries his face in my neck and releases a stream of hot seed into me.

I convulse around him, my orgasm simultaneous with his. I am suffocated by heat as nerves throughout my body prickle and punch with pleasure.

My fingers intertwine with Trevor’s. I’m holding on for dear life tohim, a man who has just told me all the ways he hates me. Except in a way they are all the ways he loves me.

And I’m almost a hundred percent positive if he’d had the wherewithal to finish that last sentence, he would have said he still loves me.

I would have had no choice but to say, “I still love you too.” Add a motherfucker on the end of that for good measure to show him how angry it makes me to still love him the way I do.

Trevor’s body spoons me from behind, holding me tight and with need.

Just sex, just sex, just sex.

He slides out of me and leans against the table next to me, tucking himself away again.

I could cry at the emptiness.

I won’t. I promise myself that.

With some frustration, I pull my dress down and try to smooth out the wrinkles.

God, my makeup is probably a wreck from having him in my mouth.

“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you,” he murmurs.

“It’s fine.” I try to laugh. ‘I mean, you coming was the point. Just sex.”

There’s a moment of hesitation before he whispers, “Iris, I mean it. I still–”

“Don’t!” I turn around and flash him a probably deranged looking smile.

“It’s all the–” I wave my hand around us and try to laugh. “Christmas, alcohol, pheromones.”

Trevor’s eyebrows lift.

“I mean, you know, objective pheromones not…emotional pheromones.” God, now I’m not making sense. Damn his cock and how good it is. “Anyway, I’m going first and then you can– Yeah.”

“Iris–”

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