Page 84 of For Her Own Good

I can hear him but I can’t, because his voice is coming from above the waves that have swamped me, but luckily I can feel him. The forearm pressed over my low back keeping me flush against his thighs, his fingers planted firmly, god, so firmly, in my backside that keep me anchored so I don’t have to worry about being swept out to sea.

The squeeze and release of my orgasm consumes me until I’m wrung out and limp, breathing heavily while draped over Lowry’s lap with his fingers still inside me. He’s lifted the bar of his forearm from my back and is stroking me, my back, my flank, my hip, and praising me softly. I want to hear him better, so I turn my head, angle it so my ear can catch his words better.

“What a good girl you are, so beautiful, such a good girl for Daddy.”

I practically purr under his ministrations because I like being told I’m good. That I’ve pleased him. That he thinks I’m pretty.

“I’m going to take my fingers out now.”

I’m grateful for the warning, and now that I’ve come, it has started to feel a little strange to have him buried so deep inside of me. Of course, it’s a bit awkward to have them withdrawn as well and then to feel the absence of them so keenly. There’s a spark of embarrassment, but it doesn’t manage to catch my mood on fire.

No, I simply turn over and nestle my bottom into his lap where his cock is still hard, bury my head in his shoulder and slip my arms around him. He’s warm and he smells like himself; his body is strong, his mouth soft as he plants a kiss on the top of my head. I’d snuggle here forever because it feels so very right. As though on Lowry’s lap is where I belong.

Chapter 27

Lowry

Starla is a warm,heavy weight on me, and it’s the most divine feeling. She’s not exactly a rag doll because there’s a specific feeling when a body is deadweight, but she’s not far off. Blissed out and dreamy, her eyes are closed and she’s nuzzled so close to me, all curled up. She’s the sweetest thing. I doubt she notices she’s doing it, but one of her hands has come to rest on my chest and she’s scratching gently through my shirt while her breathing evens out.

I am…turned on is not a strong enough word for how that made me feel. Turned up? So much of a build and then her pleasure was explosive, incredible. Focusing on her and her alone meant everything else had been excluded from my mind, which was a relief.

It’s coming back now and there’s some guilt that I’m here doing this, and Tony will never see his loved ones or have any bodily experiences ever again, but mostly I’m still tuned into the curled-up ball of woman who is making the most adorable noises of contentment I’ve ever heard. Sleepy little sighs and muffled huffs make me dizzy—she intoxicates me. It would be easy to become addicted to Starla. I may very well be already. And would that really be so bad?

I have…feelings about what we do, but not so many that it would keep me from doing it. I’ll have to sort it out on my own because it’s not for Starla to concern herself with. She has enough to worry about. Between her business, her mental health, and making decisions about her father’s business, that’s enough for anyone to deal with. I won’t add my own burdens to the pile. And while I may lay awake at night with the dirty things I said to her and the way she chokes a little when she calls medaddycircling my head, I won’t regret loving her. She’s honest-to-God so special, I don’t know how anyone could.

I rock her a little and she seems to like that, making a little “mmm,” that makes my heart swell. Aye, I feel badly about it because it wasn’t fair to her, but I never felt this way about Maeve. Was it not possible because of how my brain is wired and the fact that she didn’t need these particular things from me? Who’s to say? I shouldn’t torment myself over that too because we’re both happier now.

I kiss the top of Starla’s head again, the pale, delicate skin of her scalp showing through the strands of her hair. There are still notes of her shampoo left amongst the human smell of exertion and the mix of the two is sweet.

“Starla, love.”

“Mmm?”

“I’ve got to get up and wash. I’m going to set you down and tuck you in and I’ll be right back.”

I don’t bother to ask because if I did, she’d beg me not to and I don’t want to refuse her. Not now. As it is, her chin is contracted into a pout when I pull back the covers from her bed then ease her onto the mattress and cover her quickly, up to her chin because she’s naked and won’t have my body heat to warm her while I’m gone.

I make quick work of washing up in the bathroom because there is a naked woman waiting for me and I can’t wait to have my hands on her again. Not sure if she’ll be up for anything else, which is fine, even though I’m aching. If she’s not, I’ll put her to bed and when she’s asleep, head into the shower to at least buy myself some time and sanity by rubbing one out to what we’ve done. If she is, though…

She’s not asleep when I’m heading back to bed. Curled up and clutching something under the blankets, yes, but her hazel eyes are open and she tracks me with her gaze. Her cheeks are pink and her mouth is curled into a sweet smile. My darling girl.

“What’ve you got under there?” I ask as I sit on the edge of the bed, gesturing with my chin toward her chest where she’s clearly holding something against her.

Her lashes flutter and she looks to the side, perhaps embarrassed. But she doesn’t refuse me, simply tugs down the blankets to reveal a brown furry doll sort of thing. “Is that a—”

“It’s an Ewok. His name is Wicket.”

I knew he looked familiar. Though I might’ve called him Chewbacca, and then where would we be?

“He looks very cozy in there. But also like a fine upstanding creature who won’t destroy your virtue.”

“Not like I have much left,” she shoots back, a smile on her face.

Perhaps not, but she seems untroubled by that.

“Are you tired?”

She shakes her head, eyes wide, a combination of innocent and instigating. She’ll be the death of me for sure.

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