Page 52 of Single Mom's Daddies
But we won’t.
She reaches for me first, pulling me to her. “Please.”
That’s all I need to hear. I press into her, slow and deep. She moans my name again and it nearly undoes me. I move with care at first—measured, deliberate—but she bucks her hips and wraps her legs around me like she wants more.
So I give it to her. Harder. Faster.
She reaches down for me, exploring where we meet. Her voice shakes when she asks, “Are you pierced?”
I nod once. “You like it, don’t you? You buck when I grind into you.” I do it for emphasis and to tease her to another orgasm.
She shudders beneath me, writhing. “Yes, oh fuck!” Her cries make my whole body ache to come.
Victor slides close, so I roll her to her side so he can play too. He moves in behind her, kissing the back of her neck, one hand over her heart. Roman holds her thigh, strokes her cheek when her eyes fly open, and she gasps like she’s about to come again.
I grit my teeth as I push deeper, feeling the heat build and build until I have to stop or lose it.
“God,” she breathes, broken and full of want. “Please—please don’t stop. Right, oh God?—”
I don’t stop. I can’t. Not now. I pound into her until her body erupts on my cock, gushing and ruining my sheets. It’s enough to make me come too, and I finish deep inside of her.
Her hands are curled into the sheets, her breath ragged, her skin slick and flushed and covered in sweat and kisses. Her legs are still wrapped around my waist, and I stay there—inside her, against her, with her—for a long moment.
I don’t want to let go. But I do. Gently. I pull back and ease down beside her, drawing a hand over her thigh as I settle on the mattress.
Roman pulls her onto his lap, sinking deep from beneath her. Our wetness flows out of her, but neither of them notice. Especially not when Victor braces a hand on the ceiling as he enters her mouth.
She chokes on his length, but she’s a fighter. Tears stream down her cheeks as Roman grips her ass, pulling her up and down his cock. Fuck, she’s the hottest thing I’ve seen in a long time.
It’s seconds before she’s shaking her way through another one, tits jiggling so hard that I grab them. How could I keep my hands off of them? I pinch her nipples from behind, and that makes her cry out louder on Victor’s dick. She bucks, and Roman warns, “Fucking shit, baby, you’re making me come.”
But she doesn’t stop. She’s coming too hard to stop, and he joins her.
Victor cups her face. “I’m going to shoot down that pretty throat of yours.”
“Mm-hmm,” is all she can say right now.
I flick her nipples again as he comes in her mouth, and it makes her twitch against us. When she swallows, I pull her off of Roman and against my lap. I’m not hard again—that’ll be a few minutes. But I have her back pressed to my chest, my legs splayed out on both sides of her, her body limp against me.
I reach down for her clit, and she jolts. “Shh, shh, shh, precious. I’m not done with you yet.” I work her over, circles, pulses, massaging every bit of wet flesh there until she’s squirming against me.
“Oh God, please let me come, please?—”
I cover her mouth with my free hand to slow her breathing the way Victor’s dick did minutes ago. Not cutting it off entirely. Just enough to let her know I’m in control of this.
“You’ll come when I say you can.”
She whimpers against my hand as she jerks against me. It’s making me hard again, feeling her soft ass move like that. When her body goes stiff, I plunge two fingers in, keeping my thumb on her clit. “Come for me, precious.”
She screams against my hand as she comes, jerking and pleading in equal measure. “Too much, don’t stop, oh God!” all comes out as a single word, and I pump her with my hand until she calms.
I’ll fuck her again. Just not yet.
Victor’s already reclined against the pillows, shirt finally gone, his chest still rising like he’s catching up to the moment. Roman’s sitting at the edge of the bed, one hand resting loosely on her calf, watching her with something I can’t name.
She turns her head. Meets my eyes. And smiles. It’s small. Barely there. But it undoes me more than anything else.
I brush a strand of hair off her damp forehead and kiss her—slow this time. Soft. The kind of kiss I shouldn’t be giving her. The kind that she might think means something.
