Page 67 of Daddies on Ice
“Instinct,” I answer honestly. “With you, it’s all instinct.”
The space between us shrinks to nothing as I lean in. Her breath meets mine first, warm and lime-sweet.
The first kiss is gentle, testing. Everything in me unclenches when she responds.
She makes a sound low in her throat that shoots straight down my spine. My hand finds her jaw, thumb tracing the curve, and she leans into the touch.
“Tell me to stop and I will,” I murmur against her mouth.
“I won’t,” she whispers. “Not tonight.”
Desire jolts through me and I deepen the kiss.
She moves closer, her knee sliding over my thigh.
Heat spreads where she settles.
My hands find her waist, then drift higher, waiting for her signal. She takes my wrist, guiding my palm just under her ribs.
“Condoms?” she asks, quiet but certain, and that confidence hits me hard.
“Drawer.” Standing requires more control than I’d like to admit. The foil tears as she watches with steady focus, removing her boots and setting them aside. When I sit again, she climbs into my lap, knees bracketing my hips, dress sliding up to meet my hands.
This timeshekissesme, then guides my hand to her zipper. I lower it slowly, the sound loud in the quiet room, mingling with our heavy breathing.
The fabric opens and my palms explore warm skin. Her breath catches, and so does mine. She helps with the sleeves and the dress pools at her waist.
Her hands slide under my shirt, pushing it up, her tentative yet determined touch driving me wild.
She smiles when I yank the shirt over my head in one impatient move.
I reach for her panties’ waistband, pausing to meet her gaze. Passion and desire shine in her eyes, along with a hint of impatience.
I slide the fabric slowly, feeling every inch of her. She rises immediately, shimmying the panties to her ankles before kicking them across the room.
“Your turn,” she says, reaching for my waistband. I unfasten quickly, afraid she might tear them off, which would be incredibly arousing.
I’ve been with plenty of women, but I’ve never felt this turned on. I lift my hips to help, and she has my pants around my ankles in seconds.
She climbs atop me, breasts pressed close as she settles in my lap.
“This has to go,” I rasp, quickly undoing her bra. Her breasts spring free and I stare eagerly at them, perfectly shaped, full and firm, pink nipples tightened into peaks.
She runs her hands through my hair, pulling my face up for a kiss. I cup the back of her neck, angling her mouth under mine.
Her hands grip my shoulders, then her nails scrape down with just enough pressure to leave marks for tomorrow. My whole body shivers as she squirms on my lap, rubbing against my length.
I don’t know who moans first, but the sounds mingle with our breaths as the kiss turns deeper, more urgent.
This woman is incredible.
Something tells me I’ll never be the same after tonight.
Never look at another woman without comparing her to Tish.
A warning tries to surface in my mind, but I push it down. Nothing’s ruining this.
My hands roam up her sides to cup her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples.
