Page 97 of Iron Hearts

I changed back into my clothes in Dusty’s room and left the swimsuit in the bottom of her bathroom sink like she’d asked.

Striker was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for me, and immediately folded me into his arms, holding me close and kissing my temple.

“You okay baby?” he asked me.

“I’m really tired, Daddy,” I whispered back and he chuckled.

“Come on then, kitten. Let’s go home, get a quick shower, and get you tucked in. Sound good?”

“Sounds like the best,” I said and we said our goodbyes and left. Thank God, he’d managed to keep the goodbyes short, because I was really afraid I would fall asleep on the back of his bike – and I certainly didn’t want to do something stupid like that and fall off.

I was pretty sure it was just my fear of doing just that, that kept me awake for the blessedly short ride.

We pulled in the gate of the mansion property that Striker lived on and stopped in front of his little carriage house or whatever. Just inside the door, he stopped me just inside the door and kissed me softly and carefully.

I let my backpack slip from my shoulders, and he hung it up on the hooks set just inside the door.

I could barely breathe with the way his hands hovered over my face, my neck, just to where I could feel the heat from them, but not touching. No, not yet. The only part of him that touched me was his lips, so soft, so careful against mine.

I forgot to breathe, when his hands finally made contact with my skin, to smooth up and down my arms in a light and careful caress.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, hm?” he whispered softly, his voice so gentle it was like music played in another room to my ear.

I nodded mutely, desperate to be nude and pressed against him, my body almost as hungry as my soul for his touch.

“That’s my girl,” he said with a glowing pride to his tone that very nearly made me swoon.

He undressed me, slowly, taking his time, his touches like gossamer whispers against my skin. Oh, how he punctuated each clothing item’s removal with a soft press of his lips! I felt worshipped, cherished in a way I couldn’t even begin to describe, and I wanted that for him, too.

I captured his face between my hands as he rose up and kissed him, slipping my tongue past his lips and tucking myself into the front of his bigger body as his hands smoothed over my back and went to my waist, hauling me more firmly up against him.

“I love you,” he growled into my mouth, and I tingled from head to toe at those three little words.

I whimpered into his mouth, my body exciting, tired though as I was.

“Mm,” he pulled me against him and I gave a leap, clinging to him like a spider monkey as he walked us through his house with assurance.

He laid me on his rumpled and hastily made bed and pulled his shirt off over his head, discarding it to the floor before pressing more fully against me, skin on skin contact – which is what I had craved to begin with.

Somehow, he managed to get rid of his pants, which –yes, please!And before I knew it, he was pressing into me, sliding inside of me, and I couldn’t help but arch beneath him and let my eyes roll into the back of my head.

Yeah, I know, I know, we were flirting with a danger of pregnancy or whatever – but I loved this. The feel of him, with no barriers between us was intoxicating in a way I can’t even begin to describe, and I wanted it. I wanted him, so badly in that moment, I was willing to throw caution to the wind.

“Please, Daddy. Please!” I begged. “Love me.”

He growled, and bowed over me, thrusting deep and deeper still, my legs falling open, his cock damn near reaching the end of me, and then he pushed in just that little bit more and bottomed out andGod, that felt good!

I sank into the bed behind me and loved when he pressed me into it. I wrapped my arms around him as he kissed me, and ground into me, giving this twist and a little back and forth to his hips thatoh, my God,did more than a little something for me.

He loved me with passion, and tender care, and I just couldn’t get enough – I didn’t ever want to, either.

He was just that amazing to me.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-SEVEN

Striker…

I loved her for hours this way, just getting into that sacred rhythm that pleased us both and held us on that precipice where time stopped and it all just felt so fucking good that you almost couldn’t stand it. Still, no matter how long you went at it this way, it wasn’t enough to send you sailing into that warm, golden abyss, either.

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