Page 10 of The Single Dad Project

Badly.

She wanted his mouth, his hands, on her. Wanted to see pleasure that she gave him darken his eyes. Wanted him to take her. In every way.

He tipped his head back, meeting her gaze as his fingers worked the button and dragged the zipper down. He didn’t glance away—didn’t release her from their visual connection. And part of her wanted to look anywhere but in his eyes. She was tempted to close hers and let herself be dragged further down into the sensations swamping her. But she couldn’t. Couldn’t look away. Couldn’t shut out that beautiful face or stunning gaze.

Couldn’t shut him out.

A whisper of awe tangled with the need grinding away at her, and she grazed her fingertips across his lips...then one slipped between them. His tongue curled around her, drawing hard. Hot pulses of pleasure throbbed in her sex, and she squeezed her thighs together to...alleviate it? To trap it inside her? She didn’t know. Didn’t care to analyze it. Not now with him circling her wrist and pulling her fingers free.

Not with him guiding her hand beneath the band of her panties.

Not with their intertwined fingers sliding through her wet, aching flesh.

A gasp escaped her, and she jerked under their combined touch. Groaned. Melted.

“Don’t stop,” he ordered in a low, dark tone that brooked no argument. Not that she intended to.

Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, she obeyed, circling a fingertip over and around her clit even as he jerked her jeans down her hips and legs, pausing only to snatch off her boots before removing the denim. Before she could dwell on standing naked before him, he replaced her fingers with his mouth.

A cry erupted from her, and she tilted her head back and screamed toward the ceiling.

Oh.God.

The heat. The pleasure. They tore through her with the speed and power of an incoming storm, and like any good northeasterner, all she could do was batten down and brace herself for impact. But damn... There was no steadying herself for that skillful tongue that glided through her folds, curled around that nerve-packed button of flesh. No preparing herself for the nearly ravenous way he consumed her, licking, stroking, sucking. Hesavoredher. Staring down at him, she couldn’t describe it any other way. The lowered eyes. That smooth brown skin pulled taut over bold cheekbones. Those beautiful, ever-moving lips glistening withher.

Oh yes. He enjoyed her.

And when he cupped the back of her thigh and hefted it over his shoulder, opening her more, he solidified that opinion. Well, that and the deep, rumbling hum that vibrated over her sensitive flesh.

Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, she tunneled her fingers through his thick hair, gripping the short strands, holding him to her. Silently demanding he stay right where he was as she rocked her hips to a rhythm he created with his mouth and the fingers that drew small circles around her entrance.

“Adam.”

She gasped at the sudden and hot-as-fuck display of strength as he lifted her and moved her to the floor. In most cases, a man bodily shifting her from one place to the other would’ve elicited a response that had his ancestors cringing. But now, with the blunt tips of his fingers pressing inside her, he and his forefathers were safe. Just as long as he kept filling her. Kept fucking her with those long, beautiful fingers.

“Dammit,” she breathed, her fingernails scratching his scalp, praying she didn’t hurt him. Not having much air in her lungs to ask.

In the bar, she’d admired the length and width of his fingers, and now as they pushed inside her, she appreciated them on a whole new level. A whimper clawed its way free of her throat, and she undulated into his touch, his invasion, his possession.

As he slowly withdrew, she shook her head, mewling—yes, fuckingmewling—a protest.

“No, please.” She tugged on his hair, punching her hips into the air, chasing that wonderful, already addictive feeling.

“Shh,” he softly admonished, placing a warm, firm kiss on her clit that had her jolting. “Can you take another one, queen? Another finger?”

Before he finished the question, she jerked her head in a nod. “Yes, dammit. Yes. Give it to me.” She was begging and didn’t give the nearest damn.

“Of course you can,” he praised, giving her sex another one of those hot kisses, this one on her folds. “Because you’re a beautiful, fierce queen who doesn’t back down, isn’t that right?”

He didn’t wait for her answer; hell, she didn’t know if he expected one. Not that it mattered. Her reply would’ve been the one he wanted. The one they both did. A resounding “yes.”

And when he gently but steadily thrust three fingers into her, she didn’t retreat from that almost too-full sensation. Not from the slight burn. Not from the stretching.

No, she gloried in it. Delighted in it.

Ran toward it with the arch of her neck. The strain of her back. The needy twist of her hips.

The hungry clamp of sex.

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