Page 20 of Hard Wood Daddy

She’s coming against my face.

“Rutger!”

Her thighs clamp on either side of my head. I’m deaf. I’m getting crushed.

I love it.

I love her.

As she bucks and drags her pussy along my face, all I can think is that this is my woman. The woman I’m going to take care of for the rest of my life. I’m broken for anyone else.

From now on, it’s only Tess.

I climb her body to kiss her lips, a little more confident now. I can do what she showed me—stroking her tongue with mine, sipping at her lips—and I think her noises mean that she likes it.

“You turn me on,” I say. “It feels like…a storm. Like when the thunder gets caught on the mountain, and it pours rain and takes down half the trees.”

She sighs and rolls her head back, and I nibble on her neck. My beard scrapes along the tender skin of her throat.

“I want to eat you up without the jeans,” I admit, then add in an embarrassed murmur, “But I’m not sure what to do.”

“You can explore, if you want. Just…use me to figure it out,” Tess says, pink spots spreading across her cheeks.

It’s all the permission I need.

I flip her onto her belly and pull her jeans down her ass.

That ass.

God, it’s even better than I imagined. The waistband holds her thighs together and the plump flesh is dimpled by it. Her skin glows like moonlight. The twin curves are the juiciest peach I’ve ever seen. I open my mouth wide to take a bite, exactly the way I’ve been wanting. She’s salty-sweet. Perfect.

I rub my beard over her thighs and bury my tongue in the crevices between, and she makes those good noises again.

She’s got hair on her lower lips, just a little bit. Her arousal glistens on it like morning dew.

I lick it off with the wide flatness of my tongue.

It does taste like honey.

She’s so sweet and soaking. I suckle on her lips and draw out as much as I can, drinking from her, feeding myself on her essence. I bury my nose into the slit so that my tongue can reach deeper.

Her pants are choppy. She makes these rhythmic little uh-uh-uh sounds that grow in pitch.

“You’re a fast learner.”

“Can’t get at you the way I want,” I grunt.

Frustrated, I push her onto her back again, and her hair spills over the seat.

I maneuver myself between her thighs and spread her lips with my thumbs to take a look. She’s perfectly pink. There’s a nub at the top and I rub it with my thumb.

“You found my clit,” she says. “That’s what it is. It’s called—oh—it’s a clitoris. Did you know that?”

I didn’t. “Is this right?” I watch her face while rubbing her clit.

“Yes—yes!” It’s a magical spot, judging by the way she throws her head back. I love those squeals.

My lips lock around the clit easily, like it’s meant to be in my mouth. I suck. She cries out with the most delicious moan I’ve ever heard.

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