Page 62 of Summer with the Single Dad

Drawn to the dark brown nipple like a moth to a flame, he latched his mouth around it and sucked, reveling in her cry of pleasure and the way her pussy tightened around him. He never broke his cadence, never slowed down. He sucked on one tight bud, then the other while still driving in and out of her, knocking his pubic bone against her clit and hitting her as deep as he could.

“Don’t hold back,” he grunted. “Feel it all. Let it all out.”

“Oh god …”

“That’s right.”

Her pussy fluttered around his cock as he drove deeper and tipped his hips up a little. She squeezed him every time he plunged, then released when he withdrew. But then next time he pulled out nearly to the tip, she tightened her muscles so damn much it was a bit of a struggle to slide back in. But fucking hell, did it feel good.

He lifted his gaze and caught her smiling.

The sexy minx knew exactly what she was doing.

Growling, he nipped that delicate spot where her shoulder met her neck, and she mewled, then squeezed her muscles around him again.

She was playing.

She was finding and feeling joy.

As much as he wanted this to go on forever, he could tell she was getting close. She could no longer meet him thrust for thrust and keep with his rhythm. The way her pussy juices flooded out and her channel swelled, had his balls cinching up against his taint and that familiar, warm buzz in his belly intensifying.

With no warning, she broke.

Her nails dug deep wells in his shoulder blades and, like it had a heartbeat of its own, she pulsed around him with each wave of her release.

When she tightened her muscles mid-climax, that was when he felt it was okay to leap off the ledge and join her.

Stilling his movements, he dropped his head to the crook of her neck and poured himself inside her, allowing the orgasm to tear through him with no remorse until he was boneless, satiated, and worried he was crushing her.

“Not yet,” she croaked, wrapping her arms tighter around his neck when he went to pull off her. “Just another moment … please?”

Smiling, he nodded and kissed that tender spot on her shoulder where he’d apparently sunk his teeth. He didn’t even remember doing it.

“Thank you,” she whispered a minute later, releasing him.

He stood up and reached for the box of tissues on his filing cabinet, handing it to her. She grabbed several and shoved them between her legs, her eyes scanning the floor for their scattered soaking-wet clothes.

“We, uh … we didn’t really think this one through,” she said. “I can’t put anything but my shoes back on.”

He refused to let the guilt of their impetuous behavior swamp their high. So he shook his head and rummaged through the Rubbermaid plastic tote in the corner. “I’m sure we can find something in here. Hang on.”

“Is there a bathroom somewhere?”

“I use the one in the brewery.”

“Right.”

“Ah-ha! Here.” He tossed her a pair of swimming shorts and a hoodie. They were from their lost and found. “They’re washed. If we find something in a cabin and nobody comes back to claim it, it goes in the lost and found. But we wash everything first. These should fit, right?”

She picked up the men’s board shorts, which were probably at least eight sizes too big. But they had a drawstring, so hopefully she could cinch it tight enough around her waist. And the hoodie looked to be a youth small.

She put them on, and sure enough, the pants swallowed her up, but she made them work, and the hoodie was way too short in the arms and more of a crop-top.

He threw on a pair of navy sweatpants he found in the bin for himself, but went without a shirt. “It’s still really early in the morning. Nobody will see us if we’re quick.”

She still hadn’t said anything, and that was unnerving him, but she was probably just wondering how the hell they were going to get up the hill without alerting all the guests to their impromptu quickie in his office.

He gathered up all their wet clothes and held them against his chest. “After you.”

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