Page 10 of Hard Wood Daddy

That’s what I was missing. The warmth of her body.

My hand spans her back, and she’s so much smaller than me that I almost cover the whole thing. Her curls fall over my fingers.

“Who are you, anyway?” she asks breathily.

“Rutger,” I say, like that explains anything.

“I know that. I mean, Lindsay told me…” She’s gazing at me with those big brown doe eyes. “You own this place, right?”

“The land.” It’s amazing I’ve got any words at all. She shifts and the sweet friction against my crotch sends heat rippling up my spine. “It’s my baby.”

Saying that feels wrong on my tongue. The woods are no longer my baby, she is. I need her to be my baby.

“So you’re like…forest daddy?” Tess says teasingly, playfully.

I like the sound of that word on her lips. “Say it again,” I demand. Fuck, my cock is so hard that it’s like my heart is beating in my balls.

“Say what?” She knows what I mean. The flush in her cheeks tells me that she’s still teasing.

My hand wanders up, under her hair, to the back of her neck. I bow her against me. “Say it.”

“Daddy,” she hisses.

That’s it. I buck against her, the arousal taking control of me again.

“Baby,” I mutter into the warmth of her breath.

Her hand wanders between us.

Those brightly-painted fingers curve around the shape of my dick, and her lips form a surprised, “Oh.”

“You really do need help, Daddy,” she says.

I snarl when she moves her hand to my belt loop, which is stretched out long, still caught on the fence. But she doesn’t let me out of that problem. She uses it as leverage to rub her thigh against my leg, lifting herself halfway off the ground.

Baby girl doesn’t know what a monster she’s unleashing.

Lifting my knee, I push forward between the heat of her thighs. She’s so hot I can feel it through two layers of denim. I can smell something sweet, and I don’t know what it is except that it’s coming from her.

I want it. I want to eat it. I want to eat her. That ferocious hunger hits me again, only stronger.

When my thigh slides under the crease between her legs, she gasps again. Pink spots brighten on her cheeks.

“I could help you with that,” she says again, even softer than before, needier, like she’s feeling the same crazy animal urges that I am.

She rolls her hips. Soft heat scrapes along my captive dick.

I slide my hand down her back to the waistband of her jeans. Her shirt’s a little tucked. I pull it out and slide two of my fingers between denim and soft flesh. Dipping further gets me to the crease of her ass. The stumps of my fingers squeeze into her skin.

She can probably feel that I’m mutilated. If she cares, she doesn’t show it. She slides her foot up the back of my leg and urges me closer.

“I don’t have a lot of experience,” I say abruptly. “With this.”

“Me neither.” She shrugs.

But our bodies know exactly what to do.

I use my grip to make her move. My hands fulfill those urges that tell me exactly what to do with her. I move her over me.

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