Page 88 of Naughty Santa Daddy

Since he’s not giving me anything, I press on with the questions. “What I want to know is why me?”

He continues this slow tease of my body. “I think it’s a bit presumptuous to say I went to the diner for you. Amos happens to like the pancakes, as you know.”

Pancakes, my ass. Gilbert is a nice man but not the best cook. He is good at short-order diner food that isn’t anything standout. There is no way this is about getting Amos pancakes. And Amos is right, Greta makes the best pancakes around. Not a chance they come to Clyde’s for pancakes.

Heat rushes through me as I fight to keep focused on getting answers all while my body wants to build into release. “Greta makes pancakes that Gilbert can’t touch. Amos is not why you come to the diner.”

He laughs against me as he flicks his tongue against my swollen nub. Rather than reply, he sucks gently on my clit as his tongue darts inside me. My hips arch into his face, wanting more.He isn’t denying that he comes to the diner for me.I try to remain focused on getting the answers I seek.

Keeping my mind on getting information is hard. Unable to deny the sensations of pleasure, I release his hands. Immediately, one cups my breast, tweaking my nipple while the other joins his tongue inside me.

“Then why come in every day?”

His head backs away, the darkness of his eyes meets my gaze as his fingers move in and out of me slowly while he presses his thumb against my clit. Vibration soars through me as I feel myself climbing to the edge of release.

“I like the coffee,” he mutters as I laugh out loud.

“Okay, what we won’t do here is lie. Black coffee is black coffee in a diner. The shit is basic. Don’t play me for naïve or stupid because I am neither of those.”

“In your life, you haven’t been able to trust anything except what is right in front of your face, correct?”

His words settle deep in my soul as my hips rock into his hand even as I try to hold back. I don’t think people, in general, should trust. Regardless of where I come from or what I have experienced, trust shouldn’t be expected or come easy for anyone.

“Trust is a hard thing. Respect is an easier thing to give before trust,” I tell him honestly, rolling my hips.

“You are a wise woman, Hadley.”

Thinking about it all, the words tumble out, “I have a feeling you might know more about my life than I do.”

Massimo pulls his fingers from me, backs away, and strips down without responding to my comment. My body is on fire with need as he comes back down, pressing his weight over me, settling between my thighs.

His large dick aligns against me, pressing in as he braces above me. I look into his gaze, and our eyes lock in a way where I want to read him, but there is something being held back between us.

“Your past life is behind you, Hadley,” he speaks softly, gliding inside me to the hilt. He presses his lips to mine, kissing me senseless quickly. Breaking away, I’m whimpering.

“I thought we were having a good time talking,” I tease with a smile.

His face grows serious. “You come, it’s with me inside you.”

Those last words don’t register before his mouth crashes to mine, and he begins moving in and out at a relentless pace. I find myself gripping his arms, then his back, as thrust for thrust he seems to plant himself inside me more.

I feel him over every inch of my body as my hips jut up in rhythm with him, as my body tenses before the orgasm crashes through me just before his hot seed fills me.

He drops his head to my neck while still planted in me, trying to catch his breath. “You’re mine, Hadley, and that’s all that matters. Not what came before.”

My mind goes crazy. What does this mean? What exactly came before in my life? What does he know?

“Massimo,” I whisper, “what are we doing?”

He lifts up, and his dark eyes lock onto mine, “Whatever the fuck feels right. And this shit,” he rocks his hips, his dick hardening inside me, “feels fucking right.”

After another orgasm, I can’t hold my eyes open any longer as I drift to sleep in Massimo’s arms, wondering what comes next.

Massimo

The information in front of me taunts me. I’m in my home office. Leaving a satiated Hadley in my bed was not easy but necessary. She is asking questions—the right ones even—except I don’t have all of the information to give her the answers she seeks just yet.

The clock on my desk illuminates, reflecting the time of three in the morning. Normal people are sleeping soundly in their beds, unaware of the cruel realities of the underworld going on all around. But not me.

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