Page 77 of Daddy Issues

Puck surprised me by grabbing both my hands in one of his and pinning them above my head. His intense gaze held mine as he pulled out to the very tip. The loss of him made me gasp and wiggle, desperate for that return slide.

“Faster.” I groaned.

“No.” Again, that slow slide in. “Not until the only man you remember is me.”

Over and over, he tormented me with the delectable slide in, then back out. His muscles all stayed clenched tight, his eyes on me, watching me. I rocked my hips against him, frantic for more.

Like this, I memorized everything. His scent, the sensations he lit inside me, the way his face softened with pleasure. He was beyond handsome, and surprisingly gentle for someone so large, so demanding. Adam “Puck” Kelly was everything I’d ever wanted and more.

I was falling in love with him.

With a sharp jerk of my head, I looked away, gasping as his swollen cock hit just the right spot. I couldn’t look at him, because then he’d see the one thing I’d never let myself feel about anyone.

“Kenna.” His voice was tense, as if he was barely hanging onto his control, fighting not to fuck me as hard as we both wanted—needed. “Look at me.”

I did, getting caught up in the swirl of wild desire in his eyes.

He gave me what I wanted then, hard and fast. In and out, thrusting with such force that he released my hands to hold himself above me.

I dug my fingers into his sides, moaning. His mouth was parted, his eyelids heavy, but he held me suspended in an erotic trance.

When I came, it was like being doused in steaming hot water while my entire body contracted. My pussy was so tight it felt like he might rip me in two. “Adam! Fuck!”

He dropped to his elbows, one thrust, two, before growling in my ear and bucking on me. He filled me up before moving again, sloppy sex sounds filling the small apartment.

I closed my eyes finally, riding the pleasure of each motion, relishing it, until he slipped from inside me and rolled beside me, cradling me against his chest.

For a long time I lay there, stunned, not only by my body trembling with aftershocks, but his as well.

“Every time we have sex, I think there’s no way it will ever get better. Then, it does.” My voice sounded too squeaky, too foreign.

His chuckle, however, was warm and very solidly Puck. As was the heavy arm he draped across my stomach. “Surprises the fuck out of me, too.”

I wriggled from beneath his embrace and padded naked to the bathroom. The irony that I had zero qualms about being naked in front of him and fucking him, but the idea of being held freaked me the fuck out, wasn’t lost on me.

Get it together.

Cleaning myself up gave me time to think. Puck could read me, I was realizing, better than anyone ever had. He’d known when to come into David’s, he’d known when to meet me and Jester upstairs. At every turn, he seemed intuitively to know what I needed. Like now, he didn’t follow me into the bathroom. He stayed on the bed, giving me the space I needed to figure things out.

The problem was, my heart and brain wanted two very different things? The only people who I’d ever loved hurt me. I could count them on one hand and each one hurt worse than the ones before.

But in my heart of hearts, I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted to ask him to stay the night with me.

That was a hard one. I’d only ever slept over with one guy. And never in my space, my home. I’d used David’s house as a shield. I could trick myself and say that this wasn’t my space, but for the past few nights, it had been.

Puck had done things for me, no one had. From the kindnesses he had shown me to everything else.

And Iwantedthis, wantedhim.

Grabbing a clean towel, I went back to the bed and handed it to him before searching for the shirt he’d taken off of me. Forming words was suddenly the most difficult thing I’d ever done. I peeked at him as I pulled on the t-shirt. He was up and moving, the bed barely even creaked beneath his weight.

Perched on the edge of the bed in the dark, wrapped in his giant t-shirt, I waited for him to come back from the bathroom, grabbing his boxers from the foot of the bed.

“Stay,” I whispered, terrified of my own voice and the words coming from my lips. “I mean, if you don’t have to be home. Or if you want to, ya know.” And there it was, the rush of word vomit that always came when I was nervous. “It’s cool if you don’t want to, I get it, but—”

“If you want me here, I’m here,” he said simply, stepping into his boxers and climbing up from the foot of the bed and stretching out behind me against the wall.

Giving me all the room in the world to run.

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