Page 101 of Second Chance Daddy
We stumble back, knocking into the side table, sending one of the damn champagne glasses clinking to the floor. Neither of us cares.
He kisses me like I’m oxygen, lips bruising, teeth scraping, tongue slick and claiming, tasting every part of me like he paid for the privilege, which, honestly? He probably did with all this candlelight bullshit.
His hand snakes lower, gripping behind my knee, hitching my leg up along his waist. My heel digs into his back, and he groans, low and wrecked, grinding against me so hard my brain short-circuits.
I break the kiss, gasping, my lips swollen, my dress halfway to my hips. “Pool table?” I suggest, breathless, eyes wild.
His eyes spark, wicked and knowing, and before I can say another word, he walks me backward, step by step, toward the table. His mouth finds mine again, all tongue and heat, his free hand sliding up under the dress, fingers teasing higher with every pace.
We crash into the edge, my back arching, his body pinning me down.
“Celebration starts now,” he growls against my mouth—and I’m so ready to be unwrapped like his favorite fucking gift.
He growls like a beast fresh off the forest before yanking me back to him, his hands sliding down to grab my ass, lifting me onto the edge of the pool table like I weigh nothing.
Mama always said aim high—guess I landed myself six-foot-two of killer Bratva royalty with hands built for sin and a face I could stare at for the rest of my damn life.
Lucky me.
“Fuck civilized,” he mutters, lips grazing my neck, teeth teasing the spot beneath my ear. His voice is pure sin, vibrating straight through me.
I laugh breathlessly, the sound snapping into a gasp as his hands slide up my thighs, shoving my dress higher, fingers grazing naked skin, lingering where I’m already hot and aching.
“Exactly what I was thinking,” I whisper, watching the heat darken his eyes.
His mouth crashes to mine—ravenous, messy, bruising. The taste of whiskey and Dante. The taste I never get enough of.
I shove his jacket off his shoulders, the fabric hitting the floor with a soft thud, my fingers working his buttons, desperate now, frantic for skin.
When I finally get his shirt open, my palms slide over hard muscle, the sharp lines of his chest, and the tattoos inked across his scarred skin like a warning—violent, dangerous, his story written right there for anyone stupid enough to question his power.
“My turn,” I breathe, sliding off the table, feet hitting the floor, heat coiling in my gut as his eyes track every move.
I push him back, slowly but deliberately, until he’s sitting on the edge of the table, that predator stare locked on me, daring me to keep going.
Never break eye contact. Not with him.
I sink to my knees, hands working his belt, teasing the zipper down, loving the way his jaw tightens, the muscle ticking like he’s barely holding it together.
His cock springs free—hard, heavy, leaking at the tip—and fuck, my mouth actually waters.
Big. Thick. Veins running the length of him, the kind of cock that ruins you for anyone else—like he was built to wreck me and only me.
I wrap my hand around him, feel the weight of him in my palm, the heat, the skin stretched tight over steel. His whole body tenses, abs flexing, chest rising, those lethal eyes dark and hungry.
But it’s the way he’s looking at me that undoes me—wild, possessive, completely wrecked—and for one sharp, dangerous heartbeat, I feel fucking powerful.
He’s this controlled, brutal man, feared by the world—yet here he is, standing over me, shaking, ready to snap for my mouth.
I lick my lips slowly, teasing the head, smirking up at him, never breaking the stare.
“Cassie…” His voice is a low, strained warning.
“Shhh,” I murmur, leaning in, taking him between my lips, swallowing him down, loving how his eyes darken, his hand tightening in my hair as I own every filthy second.
The storm outside crashes harder, thunder rolling through the walls, lightning flashing across his wrecked expression.
But inside? Just us. Just heat. Just the wet sound of my mouth taking him deep, working him slow, teasing the head, hollowing my cheeks as I swallow him down, loving the way his thighs flex under my hands.
