Page 2 of Paternal Instincts
He chuckled, pulling back. “I’m not you, Quaid. I’m a whiny bitch with no lube, and you know it. I need the sauce, or I might cry, and that would be a hit to my ego I don’t deserve on the last day of work.”
My smug smirk earned a pinch to the goods, making me squeak. “Ow, you bastard.”
“Don’t be a shit.”
“Fine.” I nipped his lower lip, catching it between my teeth and biting until he hissed. “Take me instead.”
“Here?”
“Yes. Do I have to spell it out?”
Aslan tongued his wounded lip, shaking his head as he shucked my underwear. Humor danced in his dark brown eyes. I could tell part of him wanted to question the lewd suggestion, but the more sensible part of him didn’t want to push his luck. Aslan had a mild kink for public sex, and it had taken him years to bring me on board. Even now, I resisted most of his attempts. I was not a man made for risks.
With my pants pooled around my ankles, Aslan effortlessly spun me and pressed me against the door, plastering his front against my back. He ground his erection along my crack, whispering, “You drive me insane, hot stuff. There isn’t a single day that passes when I don’t thank god I got over my fear of dating and asked you out.”
As he licked a path up the side of my neck to my ear, I reveled in the way his hot mouth made my skin buzz and stomach flutter. It was the same electrifying sensation I experienced the first time Aslan kissed me on a long-ago night in a parking lot after a dreaded team-building day that I enjoyed far more than I admitted at the time. I hated Aslan then—on principle more than anything. The cocky homicide detective had gone out of his way to flirt and make me uncomfortable, but there was no denying how that simple kiss at the end of the day had turned me inside out and brought us here.
Oh, how worried I’d been about my fragile heart and giving it to a known playboy after Jack had so utterly destroyed me. It turned out to be the best decision I ever made.
I spread my legs as much as my trapped feet would allow and rutted against him, encouraging his cock where I wanted it most. “Come on, Az. Make it fast before someone decides they need something in here, and we’re caught.”
His raspy growl sent a shiver down my spine. I closed my eyes as a saliva-drenched finger circled my entrance and breached me without warning. Aslan kept prep short and sweet, knowing my preference leaned toward minimal. The sound of him spitting into his palm was followed by the wet tip of his cock tracing the line of my ass and stopping at my hole.
“Ready?” The hoarse question made my toes curl and my body come alive.
“Always.”
He pressed inside little by little, fighting my body’s resistance, as I relaxed and welcomed him home. I savored the sting, the fullness, the pressure.
We both groaned once he was fully seated. Aslan stilled. His moist, panting breaths brushed my cheek. “This will never get old.”
“I hope not.”
“Never, Quaid. Christ… you feel so fucking good.”
I tipped my head against his shoulder and arched my back, encouraging him to move. Despite telling him to make it fast, Aslan kept the first few thrusts slow and deliberate, ensuring I was truly ready and adding more saliva to ease the glide.
I copied his rhythm as his tongue explored the pulse point in my neck and his fingers snuck under my shirt and over my abdomen.
It wasn’t enough.
“More, Az. I’m good. Fuck me hard and fast… Need it.”
He chuckled at my eagerness, but these clandestine affairs in the closet were risky, and with our final workday ending, I was determined to leave without a stain on my record or a reprimanding phone call from Edwards. It was the last thing I wanted when we were days away from becoming fathers.
Anchoring a hand on my waist, Aslan moved his other to my throat, keeping my head tipped back as he jacked his hips, slamming into me with force and sending bursts of pleasure through my system.
“Like this?” He thrust again, harder, bumping me forward until I knocked into the door.
I couldn’t make words and blubbered incoherently. Aslan understood my wants and needs like no one ever had. He read me like a treasured book. He could make my body sing with a brush of his lips or a secret smile. He knew where I liked to be touched, when to slow, and when to show no mercy. Aslan knew when I needed tenderness or a reassuring word. He knew when to joke and when to hold me so I didn’t shatter.
He was my husband, my soulmate, my everything.
The hand on my throat slipped to my mouth as he jarred his hips forward again and again, fucking me how I wanted. I whimpered against his palm, nodding and bracing myself against the door.
Yes, like that, I said without words.
Aslan knew my tendency to be vocal when brought beyond my senses. Ordinarily, he loved to hear my shouts of pleasure and encouraged me to spit dirty words and scream until my voice cracked. Today, in the supply closet, my mouth would get us in trouble.
