Page 24 of Daddy's Double Surprise

Carter began to move, his cock sliding in and out of me, long deep thrusts that lit a fire inside me. I clung to him for dear life, my grip tight on his shoulders as I moaned through gritted teeth. Water sloshed around us, up and over the rim of the bath, and my lips crashed against his with force. Carter groaned against my lips before biting one and sucking it into his mouth. The slow, delicious burn of orgasm started to build in the pit of my stomach, radiating heat outward through my veins.

As he thrust into me again and again, I couldn’t stop the whimpers and moans escaping me. Carter cupped my breasts, massaging them and twisting a nipple between finger and thumb while his other thumb continued to rub my clit in small even circles. With a muffled cry I shattered around him, my muscles contracting hard around his cock as pleasure coursed through every fiber of my being.

I twitched and jerked. My hips clenched around him involuntarily, feeling every final thrust as he grunted out a stream of profanities. His movements were concentrated, purposeful as he drove my orgasm until his eyebrows rose.

“God, I’m gonna,” he grunted, and I lifted off of him, allowing is dick to pulse white stringy loads of cum into the bathwater. Carter jerked and twitched, but his thumb continued to rub my clit.

He smiled and looked up at me through heavy eyelids, and I rose slowly on shaky legs. “Let’s not sit in that,” I said, cringing, and he chuckled.

We climbed out, rinsed off in the shower, and then he dried me off, wrapping the towel around me before drying himself. I waited while he pulled the drain plug so the water could drain.His hand rode the small of my back as we walked to bed where I curled up on my side, feeling a bit nauseous from all the activity.

We were on the same page about what we wanted—a chance to have a real relationship now, one I felt like I was finally ready to have. But even as he pulled me against his chest and peppered my shoulder and cheek with kisses, I felt uneasy.

“What if Dad freaks out entirely?” I asked him, but inside I also wanted to ask what if I’m pregnant? Because everything was seeming to point to that. The drunken romp in my bedroom the day we met five weeks ago was fun, but my gut told me we had made a mistake.

“Then we’ll talk it out, okay? He’s your dad, baby. He’s going to love you forever no matter what. He might get mad for a while, but he’ll get over it.” More kisses rained on my damp skin and Carter’s arm tightened around my middle again.

“What about you?” I asked. Dad and Carter were good friends. If this destroyed their friendship, I’d never forgive myself.

“We’ll be fine, Sunny. Stop worrying.”

Carter’s words weren’t as reassuring as he probably hoped them to be, mostly because half of my question remained unanswered. What would he think if he found out I suspected being pregnant? He’d already told me how gut-wrenching it was to lose a child, how he wasn’t really fond of the idea of more children because of his trauma and the fear of it happening again. How would he feel if I really was pregnant?

How would I feel?

16

CARTER

Nudging the bedroom door with my toe, I carried the tray of breakfast into my room. Sunny lay on her side with her phone in hand scowling at the screen, and I could already imagine who it was and what they wanted. She’d been sleeping when I slid out of bed to make her this plate full of eggs, sausage, and buttered toast. Now, she looked up at me and sighed.

“Everything okay?” I asked her, padding softly to the bedside to set the tray on the nightstand. I reached behind the stand to pull out the lap desk I kept back there.

“Dad…Ugh!” she groaned and turned to her back, holding the sheet to her chest. “He demands to know where I am and why I never came home. I sent Mom a text yesterday before wine and canvas night that I may stay out all night. She knows I’m dating someone and?—”

“You told your mom?” I grinned at her feeling a bit giddy that she’d told Melanie about us, even if only in theory and not my name.

Sunny smiled as she pushed herself up on the bed, and I set the lap desk over her thighs. “Yeah, so what if I did?” Her handrose to her lips and she looked a little green, her smile fading as quickly as it appeared.

“You okay?” The last few days she’d seemed off. In fact, she told me last night how sleepy she’d been for a week now, and all the signs pointed toward the flu bug that’d been going around for a while.

“Just feeling…off,” she mumbled, but she swallowed hard and I knew what was coming.

Sunny pushed the lap desk away and threw back the covers, almost knocking the tray of food off the nightstand. I watched her rush to the bathroom as I readjusted the tray, and I heard her throwing up, which further proved my point. She was sick, and I needed to take care of her.

When I walked into the bathroom, she was kneeling on the floor next to my toilet, hair held to the side with one hand. I crouched next to her and took it, holding it for her so she had two hands free. It was a very humbling position for her—naked and vomiting—but I tried to make it less awkward for her by resting my hand on her back and talking gently to her.

“Shh, hey, it’s okay.” I’d seen several cases of the flu already this month, so it wasn’t a surprise that she was sick. When you worked in a clinic around sick people all day, you tended to either build a healthy immune system or you got sick frequently. Sunny appeared to be the latter.

“Wow, I don’t feel well.” Sunny pressed a hand to her chest and looked up at me in her periphery. I snagged some toilet paper and handed it to her, and she mopped herself up. When she flushed the toilet, which was mostly water and stomach acid seeing as she didn’t eat dinner last night and no breakfast yet this morning, I helped her stand.

“Well, let’s get you back to bed then,” I said, letting go of her hair. She stooped to slurp some water from the sink and rinse her mouth, then she let me guide her back to the bedroom whereshe covered her mouth and nose at the sight of the breakfast I cooked.

“Wow, I don’t think I can eat. I’m so sorry.”

“No worries, babe. Just rest a bit.” I folded back the covers and let her climb in, checked her forehead to see if she felt feverish—she didn’t—then I carried the food out of the bedroom. In the kitchen, I scarfed as much down as I could in a few seconds, then I grabbed some water and mints and returned to the bedroom to find her lying on her side.

Her hair was splayed out on the pillow behind her, and she looked at peace with her eyes shut. They popped open as I sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand in mine.

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