Page 220 of Santa Daddies
“Didn’t mean to insult your pretty dick,” she told him.
He grinned and slapped her ass. She let out a yelp. But before she could complain, he had his hands around her hips, helping her slide down his cock.
And it was glorious.
Arousal washed through her, hot and heavy. She’d never been this turned on.
But apparently, as well as being pretty, he had a magical dick.
“Magical dick?” he asked, sounding amused.
“I didn’t mean to say that out loud. But yes, so magical. Please, please.”
“Fuck me, baby. Ride my dick.”
Yeah, he didn’t have to ask her twice. She drove herself up and down his dick, her breathing growing faster, pleasure filling her.
More. She needed more.
Then his thumb touched her clit, playing with her and another orgasm ripped through her. His hands around her hips guided her so she was going faster and faster until his own shout of satisfaction filled the room.
Alice had never had sex like this. Hadn’t even realized it was possible to feel this much pleasure.
And she knew it was all him. Anson.
Nothing, she was certain, would ever be the same again.
Chapter Eight
Anson walked into her bedroom, carrying a cup of coffee.
She’d been in here for a few hours and he wanted to check on her. Last night, after they’d had sex, she’d slept in his bed. But this morning, she’d claimed to have some work to do and shut herself up in here.
He didn’t even know what sort of work she did.
Walking in, he heard the shower going. She had her laptop open on the bed and a notebook open next to it.
Anson didn’t know why he walked over to the notebook, why he started to read it.
But as soon as he did, his body grew cold. He picked it up, certain he must be reading the words wrong.
However, there was no mistaking what was written there.
Notes about him.
His injury. His temperament. His appearance.
That . . . that bitch.
Picking up the notebook, he carried it out to the dining room and set it down on the table. Then he headed to the alcohol cabinet. He didn’t drink often. It wasn’t wise with the medication he was on. But he needed something.
About twenty minutes later, she walked out carrying the cup of coffee. There was a soft look on her face and a small smile.
“Thank you for my coffee.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” he demanded.
“What?”
