Page 2 of Wrong Number, Right Single Dad
I growl and increase the pressure I’m applying to her clit. Stroking her faster and harder.
Her thumb slides over my tip, spreading the pre-cum over the head. A jolt of fresh lust shoots through me. Then she wraps her fingers around my shaft and glides her fist up and down.
“Good girl.”
She smirks.
Neither of us speaks again. The only sound is our gasps for breaths and moans. The musky scent of our desire wafts through the air, mingled with a faint hint of sweat.
We don’t come at the same time, but we’re only a few seconds apart.
Once we’ve caught our breaths, I tuck my dick back in my pants. She lowers her skirt.
She reaches for the door handle, and I grasp her arm. “Wanna do this again?”
Her lips curve up, and she meets my gaze. It’s the first time she looks me in the eye. My breath catches in my throat. Hers are a stunning shade of dark blue.
“I’d like that.” She nods toward my phone on the dash. “How about I give you my number so you can reach me outside the app?”
“Okay.”
I give it to her and watch as her thumb moves quickly over the screen. She hands it back. “You’ll find me under ‘Baby’.”
“Baby.” I nod. “Until next time, ‘Baby.’”
“Until next time.”
ONE
DELANEY
Three simple words flash onto my phone screen and make my heart—and belly—ping.
I need you.
It’s not the words alone that have my pulse quickening. It’s the name that accompanies it. “Daddy.”
My lips curve up.
I’ve had plenty of…let’s call them sexy pen pals. But none of them—not one—has ever stirred my desire like this one.
Maybe it’s because those guys were work. This one—this man—was only ever about fun. A dare of sorts from my friend, after we’d both had one too many glasses of wine and stumbled upon a naughty website where lonely people looking for connections without romantic attachments could meet.
Before I can come up with a flirty message to match the tone of our other banter.
Can you be here within an hour?
Then he texts me an address.
I blink at the message in surprise. He wants to meet up again in person? At—I squint and study the pin on the map he sent—a home?
That’s a far cry off from the parking garage where we’ve met in our previous, casual encounters.
That’s the way we both wanted it. No chit-chat. No identifiers. Just two people working off their sexual frustration without any complications.
Until now.
I close out of his messages and call Katie. My best friend’s face fills the screen after only two rings.
