Page 6 of The Man of the House

“Why should I do that?”

“I’m your stepdad.”

“On paper.”

“I’m also way older than you.”

“And?”

“Elena…”

“Tell me you want me to leave, Evan. Right now. And I would.”

“No!” The word bursts out of me before my brain catches up, and I scrub a hand across my face. “Fuck, Elena. I’ve been trying to keep my distance.”

“Do you want to?”

“No. Fuck, I want you so much. I’ve wanted you before I met you.”

“B-before you met me? What do you mean? How?”

I raise my face to the ceiling and swallow. “Maybe I have a thing for women dressed in a prune and a hot dog sandwich.”

I barely have the chance to process it when Elena grabs my hand and stands on her toes to kiss me. It’s a kiss that destroys me completely, from the inside and out.

The tension simmering between us boils over, and we’re all over each other, my hands cradling her face, her fingers grabbing my hair, her nails scratching at my back.

There’s nothing separating us—literally nothing—and I take advantage of it, knowing I might never have the chance again. I lift her and drop her on the mattress, grabbing her ankles to jerk her to the edge of the bed.

“Last chance to stop this, Elena,” I tell her, blood roaring in my veins, my loins aching with the need to feel her pussy around me.

Elena glares at me and lifts herself on her elbows. “I’m getting tired of you trying to talk me out of this. I want it, Evan. I want it so much.”

That’s all the encouragement I need.

I kneel before her, kissing her calf and biting the side of her knee. “Let me eat you. Let me taste. Please let me beg on my knees.”

She parts her legs and arches her back, and I waste no time diving into her pussy.

Fuck, she tastes sweet. Sweet and musky and mine.

“You taste so good. I’m going to make you feel so good, you’re going to see stars.” I run my hands along her smooth inner thighs and part her folds. With the single-minded focus of a starving man about to have his first meal, I drag my tongue along her pink pussy, flattening it on her clit.

Elena bows off the mattress, but I hold her down. I worship her in languid circles, taking note of when she clamps her legs around my head and yanks my hair. She likes it slow. She likes it when I lick her pussy slowly and suck lightly on her clit. She likes it when I shove my tongue inside her while my finger teases her button. She likes it when I explore her pussy with my tongue, my mouth kissing her folds.

My fingers dig into her thighs as I eat her. In between her whimpers and moans, she grabs my hair and rides my face, her juices smearing all over me.

“F-fuck yes, baby. That’s it. Ride my face. Ride my tongue. Use me,” I tell her.

“Ah, God. Evan, please. Evan, Evan, I-I’m c-coming…” She stretches the last word as her body shakes and her eyes roll to the back of her head.

I don’t let up. Instead, I knead her ass roughly and bury my tongue deep, feeling her pussy flutter around me, her juices gushing and coating my mouth.

Jesus. This is the best meal I’ve ever had. Messy. Filthy. And oh so fucking perfect. I can have this every day for the rest of my life.

Apparently, we’re far from done.

Just when I thought I sapped her strength, Elena pushes me gently and guides me to sit on the bed.

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