Page 23 of Detective Daddy Next Door

"No, I'm fine. I'm just worried I might wake up with a headache tomorrow, and I have to do some important things with my partner."

"I can help with that. The headache, that is. I have a soup that my stepmom makes when she drinks a little too much. I made some and I still have some left in the fridge. I made it for my friend, Ava. She came over a few nights ago when we were stalking you and—"

"You were stalking me?"

"Okay, I wasn't supposed to say that. We…well, I thought you were stalking me, and she wanted to catch a glimpse of you. We had too much to drink and had to work the next day, so I made the soup. The only side effect is you might sleep longer and wake up late."

"No problem. I don’t have to wake up early tomorrow. I just want to be able to get through the day."

"Alright then. I'll warm some up for you when we get home."

"So, you were stalking me?"

She hits me on the arm as we continue our dance.

An hour later, we say our goodbyes and head home. It’s late when we get back. I don't remind her about the soup because I think she’ll want to go straight to bed.

"You still want the soup?"

"Umm. Yeah. If it's not a bother."

She waves one hand at me. "It's not a bother."

"Alright. I'll just have it and be out quickly so you can go to bed."

She opens her door and I take a seat.

She goes over to the kitchen and takes a container out of the fridge. She spoons some soup into a pot and heats it up.

I stand up and go to the counter. "This must be some magic soup."

"It is. You'll feel no hangover in the morning."

When it's hot, she pours it into a bowl and rounds the counter to bring it to me. She pulls over a stool and sits close to me. I scoop up soup and put it to my mouth, but it burns me. She takes the spoon of soup from me and blows into it. Something about the way her lips are rounded reminds me of something sensual. The memories from Las Vegas hit me hard in the chest.

I raise my right hand up and run my fingers through her hair. She stops blowing, but doesn't look at me. I take the spoon from her, spilling some of the soup on the floor, and I pull her closer. She doesn't resist. She gets up willingly. I run my hands through her hair again and slowly put my face to hers. Her lips are yielding, open, welcoming mine. And they taste even better than I remember. I rip them open and stick my tongue into her. Her tongue meets mine and they writhe as though they'd missed each other. My dick is swelling against my pants. I can't hold it anymore. I turn her around and pull her dress up. I pull her panties aside and penetrate her. She lets out a moan. A low moan that tells me she's been waiting for this.

She’s holding on to the stool as I pump into her. I hold her dress with one hand and bunch up her hair in the other. When I feel my release coming, I pull out quickly. She’s panting hard as I turn her to face me.

“I’m not done,” I say as I lead her toward a sofa in the living room.

She lies down and pulls her dress up. I slide her panties off and penetrate her again. But I don’t lower myself. I want to look at her face as I fuck her. Her eyes are closed, and her lips are slightly apart. Her face is crooked in an attractive way as she shuts her lips and twists a corner to the other side. I’m finding it hard to hold on just watching her respond to me fucking her. My control is chipping away bit by bit, and I know I’ll come any minute now. I haven’t even finished the thought when I burst hard inside of her and fall across her body.

A few minutes later, we're still lying in the same position.

She shifts beneath me to adjust her legs. "You still haven't eaten the soup."

"I have taken the best type of soup. I'll be fine."

She hits me on the arm. "So, umm. We have to make sure this never happens again if this fake relationship thing is going to work."

"You don't like it?"

"I just think it will get in the way."

"You didn't answer my question. You don't like it?"

"I'm not answering that. I just think we should keep it strictly business."

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