Page 8 of Wrong Number, Right Single Dad
“What’s wrong?” I call over my shoulder as I find a pair of gray sweatpants neatly stacked on a shelf. I wish he would have worn these on one of our meet-ups. “I thought you liked it when I misbehave.”
“I thought you said you’d be a good girl.”
“I thought you said I was a good girl. You’ve called me that many times?—”
I cut myself off as I turn and find myself face to face with Jared. He’s towering over me. His whiskered jaw clenched. His hands in fists at his side.
“What are you doing?” The question comes out as a breath.
“Stop talking.”
He kicks the closet door shut. Then he pushes my back against it. The sweatpants and T-shirt slip from my hands to thefloor. I grip his shoulders, my nails biting into him, as he grabs me by the hips, pushes my coat open, and lifts me up.
I instinctively wrap my thighs around him.
His thick, long cock presses against my core. My eyelids flutter shut as he grinds against me. Finding the exact spot where I crave him, need him, to touch me.
“This is insane.” He buries his head in the crook of my neck, angling his hips to create more friction between us. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
Pinning me against the door, he frees up one hand to cup my breast through the lace.
A fresh jolt of desire lances through me. Meeting the pleasure building where our hips are moving together. Lace against denim.
“Don’t you dare stop.” I gasp as his thumb slides over my nipple. “Don’t. You. Dare.”
“I won’t.” I slide a hand up his shirt to scrape my nails over his back, and he growls. “I can’t.”
“Thank God.” I press my palm flat against his behind, urging him to go faster. Harder.
He pinches my nipple as he gives a sharp thrust against me. It sends me over the edge. Wave after wave of pleasure flows through me. Sweeping me up and leaving me insensible to everything but him.
With a groan, he pushes against me once more. Burying his hardness against me as he shudders.
We stay there, wrapped around each other. Hips pressed almost as intimately as two bodies can be. Our breaths come in rasping gasps.
When he finally lets me down, I’m shaky on my feet. He grips my waist, holding me steady until I give him a nod.
It’s tempting to give him praise. To tell him how good that felt. That I didn’t know dry-humping could be so satisfying.To say I’m so freaking glad we haven’t ruined this part of our relationship.
But I don’t. In this case, it seems like the less said the better.
“We should get moving.” I take a shaky breath. “I think we both need a change of clothes now.”
FOUR
JARED
My phone rings as I step out of the shower the following afternoon after finishing some messy drills.
Grabbing a towel from the hook on the back of the bathroom door, I sling it around my hips. I pad my way across the motel room to pick up the phone.
And frown.
Incoming video call from BABY.
“Why the hell is she calling me?” There’s only one reason she’s ever called me before. “She really wants phone sex? Now?” I grumble.
I start to click ignore, when I remember.
