Page 49 of Detention with Daddies

Olivia smiles at me, her hand traipsing down my body before she wraps it around my length, stroking me slowly.

My moan is low, dark, needy. I might not be a man in my twenties anymore, but I feel like one right now.

When she shifts her weight to straddle me, I help her with both hands on her hips, and I welcome the sight of her pale skin in the moonlight from my back windows. How the red of her hair has darkened to the color of blood.

Her hips roll, and she’s already wet for me. God, this woman. I want to live inside of her. To tease out every bit of pleasure I can from her body and bask in the way her mind works.

I grab two handfuls of her ass when she lifts, reaches between us, and presses the head of my cock against her entrance. Slowly sinking down on me, her body shifts and rolls and takes me so easily. So greedily.

Tight and wet, her every move zaps me with pleasure and fires up my need. And I let her take control for a few minutes before I move under her.

Olivia plants her hands on my chest to brace herself, and she doesn’t let me keep this slow like I did earlier. Her nails curl into my muscles, and it shoots heat down to my cock. I love how those polished daggers dig into my flesh.

She meets my gaze as she rides me, and our connection deepens. Olivia actually sees me. Not just my body. Not just the money I make. Not just the novelty of my power or foreignness.

She’s absolutely perfect for me. We fit better than I ever imagined.

When her elbows waver and her moans build, I pull her forward, breaking her stiff-arm brace and pressing all of her beautiful curves against me. My arms wrap around her to hold her in place, thrusting up into her with gusto as she makes sweet noises into the crook of my neck and shoulder.

Fingers curling into my hair, I strain to keep myself steady until I pound an orgasm out of her. God, I need her to come onme. As many times as I can manage. As many times as she’ll let me.

Soft cries vibrate against my skin as she strangles my cock, pulsing, coming, and I cannot stop.

I massage her ass and hips as she sinks into me and whimpers. But when I grab hold of her and slam her over me to meet my thrusts, her choking moan eggs me on. Fuck, yes, I want to feel her come again before I reach my own release.

I am completely addicted to the way she feels. The way she responds. The way this is so damn easy.

Olivia chants my name under her breath until she loses her ability to form the consonants, devolving into vowels and moans. When I feel her constrict around my cock again, I let loose, jackhammering up into her until she breaks apart.

I follow quickly behind her, tightening my hold on her as the pleasure slowly ebbs.

I don’t want to let go of her. Fuck the mess.

We both seem too tired to move, and I have no complaints.

Not even when I wake up sticky and in need of changing the bed linens because she’s still snuggled into me, that voluptuous ass against my hip, and my arm nestled between her breasts and under her head.

It’s the best way I’ve woken up in so long. I turn and curl around her, brushing my beard over her shoulder and planting kisses along her pale freckled flesh.

“Mmm.”

My hand shifts from between her breasts to cupping one of them, making that small noise turn into a whine. I want her again, even though we don’t have the time.

“Time to get up.”

Olivia sucks in a long breath and arches back into me like the embodiment of sin. Of lust.

“Mmm, what time is it?”

“Around six.”

“Dear God. It’s too early.”

I laugh softly against her shoulder. “Not for me. I have to be at work by eight.”

She groans. “Right. Stupid responsibilities. My class isn’t until ten.”

“You’re welcome to stay in my bed until then.”

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