Page 35 of Power Play Daddies
“Like that?”
I narrow my gaze at him, staying silent. His grin stretches wider, and he suddenly slaps the other cheek, harder this time.
It’s more pain than pleasure this time, but I still jerk my hips back into him, taking him deeper. We both moan.
“Turn your head,” he says, his voice rough. “I want you to watch us fuck,baby.”
I glance up, catching our reflection in the mirror above the bed. The sight of him behind me, his muscles taut and his mouth slightly open, is almost too much.
“You’re gonna be sore tomorrow,” he murmurs, his pace picking up.
“Worth it,” I gasp, gripping the sheets.
He laughs, low and wicked, and leans down to kiss the back of my neck. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
And just like that, the tension snaps, my body shuddering around him as I come. He follows seconds later, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I’m sure there will be bruises.
When he finally collapses beside me, we’re both breathless. I glance over, catching the lazy grin on his face.
“So… cherry lube, huh?” I tease.
He laughs, pulling me against him. “Told you you’d like it.”
“Cocky bastard.”
“You love it,” he says, pressing a kiss to my temple.
Maybe I do.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kieran
The Miami Icemenjersey hits her thighs just right. Not too short, not too long. Just perfect.Donovan. Number 17.My number on her body like a damn brand.
I can see the bruises from whoever she was with before me, but I can also see the marks I’ve left. Little reminders.
She’s sitting at the kitchen counter, looking half-asleep but still sexy as hell, her red curls messy from the shower and… everything after. She stretches, and the jersey rides up a little, exposing more of those thighs. Christ.
“You’re staring,” she says, her voice soft but teasing.
“Hard not to,” I reply, flipping the sausages in the pan. “You’re wearing my number. Looking like that.”
She smirks. “Looking like what?”
“Afuckingdream.”
She laughs, and it’s this lazy, satisfied sound that makes me want to drag her back to bed—or the counter. Hell, the floor works too. Instead, I focus on the food.
“Promise me something,” she says, resting her chin on her hand.
“What?”
“After pictures,” her lips curve in this wicked little smile, “you’ll drop me back here to get my car. I need to go home to feed my cat and get fresh clothes.”
I raise a brow, fighting my smile. “So, you’ve finally agreed to pictures?”
She nods, her eyes sparkling. “Private ones. Just for you.”
