Page 49 of Her Hat Trick Daddies
I release her throat and drop to my knees behind her, gripping her thighs as I sink my mouth into her skin, biting, sucking, leaving marks she’ll feel tomorrow. I kiss my way up the inside of her thigh, slow and deliberate, until I reach the heat radiating off her soaked pussy. I run my tongue along the crease where her thigh meets her core, dragging it right to the edge of her entrance, hovering there, breath hot, voice dark. “I’m going to ruin you, baby.”
I rise, seize her wrist, and spin her to face me, pulling her back into my space. Her eyes are blown wide, pupils dark and dilated, lips kiss-swollen and trembling with anticipation.
“I need you, Shane,” she whines. “Now.”
I palm her chin. “Not yet.”
I walk to the baby grand in the room behind her and unzip my jeans, letting them fall to my feet. My cock springs free, flushed and veiny, thick with need.
“Crawl to me,” I demand, my voice husky.
Her mouth parts, but she obeys, sinking to her knees and crawling toward me like she’s ready to pounce. She’s fucking perfect, and her submission makes my blood surge, pooling hot and heavy in my cock. The second she reaches me—
“Good girl.” I grab a fist full of hair and pull her head back. “Now. Suck my cock.”
She doesn’t hesitate. She wraps her hand around my base, her lips parting, plush and pink, as she leans in to taste me. She drags her tongue around the tip, slow, teasing, eyes fixed on mine. Slow at first. Tentative.
But I’m not made for slow.
“Faster,” I demand, tightening my grip in her hair. “Deeper. I want tofeelyour throat.”
She gags slightly as I shove my cock deeper, her throat tightening around me. Spit’s already sliding down my shaft, messy and wet, and fuck. She looks my greedy little pet like this. Cheeks hollowed, lips stretched wide around my cock, eyeswatering as she chokes softly, struggling to breathe. Her hands clutch at my thighs, desperate for something to hold on to while I feed her more than she can take.
“Yeah, that’s it,” I hiss, hips flexing. “Mmm. So fucking eager.”
She moans around me, and the vibration nearly makes my knees buckle. My cock throbs on her tongue as she starts to bob faster now, taking more with each pass. Then, her mouth slips off with a wet pop, and she gasps, drool clinging to her chin.
I hook my arms under her thighs, one slipping around her back, and lift her onto the lid of the piano like she weighs nothing. One of her heels hit the keys and they jangle as I shove her legs apart and lower myself between them, already drunk on the scent of her pussy.
“Now it’s my turn,” I murmur. “And baby, I’m going to make you fucking sing.”
Her thighs tremble as I drag her closer to the edge, her heels slipping on the polished surface. I grip the backs of her legs, spreading her even wider until her soaked folds are fully on display—glossy, swollen, glistening just for me.
She lets out a shaky breath, her fingers scrambling for something to grab, bracing herself as I lower my head.
The first drag of my tongue is slow. Purposeful. I lick her like I’m claiming her, because I am. From her slick hole all the way up to her clit, tasting everything she’s got for me—andfuck, she’s dripping, I don’t stop until I’m flicking that swollen bundle of nerves like I’m punishing it.
She keens—high, broken, desperate—and again when I suck her clit harder, faster. Her hips jerk, trying to lift off the piano, but I slam a forearm across her lower belly to hold her still.
“Uh-uh,” I growl, lifting my eyes to meet hers. “You don’t get to run from this.”
And then I feast.
“Uh-uhn…Shane… I’m gonna come,” she cries, thighs shaking
I shove two fingers inside her, rough and deep, curling them until I find that spot, the one that makes her legs kick and her voice crack.. She goes stiff and then detonates.
I pull back just in time to watch her fall apart. And fuck, what a show it is.
She comes like a freight train, wild and uncontrollable, squirting hard over my chest, across the polished piano lid, dripping everywhere. Her thighs quake. Her head falls back. Her screams echo off the walls and the piano keys, each note ringing out like applause for how beautifully wrecked she is.
She’s a goddamn masterpiece. Shattered in my hands, messy, unfiltered, and all…mine.
Until I hear the thundering of footsteps heading our way. “Well, well, well. What do we have going on in here?” Andy asks, humor and heat threading through his voice.
We weren’t exactly trying to stay quiet, and I’m not surprised he followed the sounds, like a bee to honey.
I knew I couldn’t keep her to myself for long. This isn’t even my house. But still, I’m going to stretch this out for as long as I can. Because for the first time in a long time, something hits differently. Seeing her again, touching her. It feels like she’s come home. To me. To us.
