Page 68 of The Single Dad Project

Not breaking their visual connection, Flo circled his wrist and pulled his hand away—then slid it down her torso, over her abdomen and navel, not stopping until his fingertips grazed her zipper.

“Here?” He traced the metallic teeth, his touch light. A breath shuddered out from between her lips. “Or...here.” Without preamble, he cupped her sex, grinding the heel of his palm over her clit.

Her soft cry was a thing of beauty, and he instantly wanted more of it. In that second it became his mission in life to hear it over and over.

“Tell me, queen,” he insisted, pressing his fingers against the seam of her jeans, right up against the entrance to her body. “Here?”

“Yes, Adam.” She gasped, fisting the front of his shirt. “Yes.”

The need saturating her voice had him jerking open the button at the top of her jeans, hauling the zipper down, and he thrust his hand between her body and denim. Groans escaped both of them as he slid his fingers through drenched, soft flesh. The side of his finger skimmed that nub at the top of her mound, and her hips jerked, punching forward. He didn’t stop until his fingers pressed to the mouth of her sex.

Cupping her ass, he urged her up to her knees, granting him more access.

“Fuck,” he growled as he sank inside her, those slick muscled walls closing around him. Liquid heat coated his skin, and he couldn’t stop himself from dragging his hand free and lifting it to his mouth, sucking all that wet from his fingers. Her flavor exploded on his tongue—a delicious blend of sweet and tart—and his stomach damn near cramped with the greed for more. “How the hell do you taste this good, baby?”

She stared down at him, her brown eyes almost black with lust. Cradling his face between her hands, she lowered her head and crushed her mouth to his. Savoring herself on his tongue? The thought sent another spiral of heat twisting through him.

Uttering a harsh curse against her lips, he dove back inside her jeans, agitating her clit with firm, tight circles. Her hips worked against his fingers, imploring, demanding, in a sensual dance. Flo whimpered into his mouth, and that coaxed a growl from him. An insatiable need to be inside her pounded within him, hardening his cock. All it would take was one brush over his length, and he would blow. That was how on edge she had him.

“Adam,” she panted, “please.”

Tightening his grip on her ass, he held her restless movement still and plunged his fingers back into her tight, hot channel. He withdrew until only the tips remained then buried them back inside. Over and over, he fucked her, drawing a fierce satisfaction from every cry, every tremble of her body, every spasm of her sex. Her nails scratched his scalp, and that bite rippled down his spine, adding another layer to the lust tearing through him.

“C’mon, queen.” He thrust harder into her, twisting his wrist and stroking high and deep. “Give it to me. Let go,” he demanded, grinding the heel of his palm against the top of her sex.

He didn’t know if it was his command, the press of hand against her clit or that final stroke of his fingers or a combination of all three—not that it mattered. He only knew the damn near bruising grip of her flesh, the milking embrace and her muted, throaty scream that he swallowed. He continued to work her body, fighting the squeeze and clasp of her channel to give her every measure of the orgasm.

She jerked her mouth from his and buried her face against his throat. And as the last shudder left her, she sagged against him. Reluctantly slipping his fingers free of her body, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her until their breathing evened out. His dick railed at him, demanding it enjoy the same erotic embrace his fingers had enjoyed. Lust still streamed through his veins, hot and alive, andGod, he wanted inside her.

Moments later, she leaned back, meeting his gaze. Though she’d just come, her brown eyes glittered with the same desire that had its claws dug into him. Something unspoken but loud as a shout passed between them. Cupping her ass in both his hands, he rose from the couch, and she wrapped her arms and legs around his neck and waist. He strode around the end of the sofa, heading toward the hallway, anticipation and lust propelling him—

His cell phone vibrated on the coffee table, and the buzz of it halted him midstride. He frowned, fighting through the lust that clouded his mind. Who the hell would be calling at nine o’clock? Giving his head a small shake, he moved forward again...and it rang again. And then again.

Shit.

“You should get that,” Flo murmured, loosening her arms, and he took the hint, slowly lowering her to the floor. His arms momentarily tightened around her, loath to release her, but she briefly squeezed the back of his neck. “It could be important. Especially if someone’s calling late at night.”

Frustrated—and more than a little irritated at the interruption—he swallowed the growl that rumbled up his chest. Flo was right, but the throbbing in his cock couldn’t give a damn at this second. But it could be Adele trying to contact him about something back at home. Maybe...their father. What if he’d had another health scare?

Disquiet tripped down his spine as he turned around and retraced his steps to the couch and the table in front of it. Were he and his father close? No. Not like a dad and son should be. But if something happened to him...

He bent down and reached for his phone, expecting to see his sister’s name on the screen. When he spotted his ex-wife’s instead, his fingers hovered above the cell then curled into a fist.

The hell?

Unease transformed into anger, and it swirled behind his ribs. Why would Jennifer be callingnow? What could she possibly want?

Bullshit, a voice in his head supplied.

And even as he jabbed the screen, answering the phone, he silently agreed. But he couldn’t afford not to at least find out the purpose behind this call. On the off chance it was an emergency.

She’s Justine’s mother. She’s Justine’s mother.

He repeated the mantra to himself as he lifted the cell to his ear.

“Jenn,” he said, and yeah, his tone sounded abrupt and sharp, but with need still simmering under his skin, it would require an act of God to make him sound friendlier.

“Hey, Adam,” his ex chirped as if it were nine in the morning rather than in the evening. “How’re you doing?”

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