Page 66 of Under Daddy's Spell

“What’s funny?” she asked as she returned and curled up beside him.

“Either it’s clothes, packed work calendars, or jealous dogs, but it seems fate is working against me getting you into bed.”

“You had me in bed once, remember?”

“How could I forget?” He pulled her into his lap and buried his face in her neck. “You weren’t wearing your hair down.”

“You were serious about that?”

“Absolutely. It’s thick and soft and curls around my hands like it has a life of its own.” As he spoke, he searched for pins. “I’ve seen nothing that compares to it.”

“That’s a good thing?”

He had to dodge an elbow to the jaw when her arms came up to help. “That’s a very good thing.”

As it fell around her shoulders, he brought a handful to his face and inhaled the now-familiar fragrance. “Cut it at your peril.”

“I did once but never again. Short, curly, and red with freckles is not a good look for me.”

He’d had enough talking.

Lying her over the arm of the couch, he pulled the tie on her dress. The white lace bra and panties he revealed when he unwrapped her were sex and innocence combined. His arm slid under her, bringing her breasts up to him and he sucked a hard point into his mouth, lace and all.

But he wanted more.

He pulled down the other cup and ran his fingers over her satiny skin and the hardness of the taut tip. Then he switched sides, inhaling her fragrant skin as he tasted a bare nipple for the first time.

Her back bowed more sharply, offering more of herself as he suckled. She gripped his head, holding him to her breasts, plainly not wanting him to stop.

Little whimpers of pleasure rose from her throat—sexier than the white lace—and her legs moved restlessly where they draped over his thigh. She spread her legs for him when his fingers dipped into the front of her panties and found the wet, smooth haven they concealed.

“This may go fast, baby. I want you that bad. Would you prefer our first time to be here on the couch or in your bed?”

“Yes,” she groaned, which he took to mean she didn’t care.

“We’ll have round one here and rounds two and three in your bed.”

“Three?” she gasped as he slid a finger inside her.

“At least. I’m starved and not for pasta.” He whisked her panties down and off. When his hand returned, he slipped in a second finger. He used his thumb on her clit as he delved deeper inside her and, at the same time, drew harder on her nipple.

Her soft cries of completion came quickly as her muscles clamped down hard on his fingers. She needed the preparation of an orgasm, especially the liquid heat currently drenching his hand, to take him this first time. He wasn’t a small man in any capacity.

Before the feel-good hormones of coming left her, he unzipped and gloved up. Then he repositioned her, lying on the butter-soft leather, one leg bent along the back of the couch with the other draped over his forearm. He guided himself to her weeping entrance and sank into the warmth and wetness he’d been dreaming of for the past two weeks.

As her body accepted him, she reached for his shoulders and hung on.

“Everything okay, baby?”

“Perfect. But...

“But what, Tessa?”

“You’re big.”

“We’ll take it slow.”

“It’s not that. It feels really good, but I need you to move.”

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