Page 79 of Filthy Rich Daddies
She’s fire and fragility. She’s the storm and the shelter. She’s everything I didn’t know I was starving for until she showed up at my door like a reckoning.
When we finally fall together—skin on skin, breath tangled, hearts pounding—it’s not just sex.
It’s a reset. A declaration. A grounding.
I slide into her, and I swear, I can taste her on my tongue even when she’s on my dick. Her cries are frustrated things—part rebuke, part ecstasy. She’s perched on the couch, her knees on either side of my legs, her arms wrapped around my neck as she rides me. Those perfect tits in my face. I bury my face there, letting my stubble redden her soft skin.
But then I look up, searching for her lips, and claim them. Her growls are music, her sighs my favorite sound. Her nails dig into my shoulder when she comes, and I murmur her name like a secret meant only for this room. I grip her hips and pull her onto me harder, faster. I’m chasing my pleasure, but she’s not finished either. Her next climax is an earthquake, and I crash too.
When it’s over, we don’t move for a long time.
She’s sprawled on top of me, head tucked under my chin, one hand tracing lazy shapes on my ribs. My arms are around her, holding her like she might disappear if I let go.
I’m never letting go.
She doesn’t speak. Neither do I. We just breathe. Eventually, she shifts, just enough to prop herself up on one elbow and look atme. Her hair’s a mess. Her lips are kiss-swollen. Her eyes are clear and wary.
“You can’t keep doing this,” she says softly.
My stomach twists. “Doing what?”
“Making big decisions for me. Without asking.”
Ah. That. I nod, slowly. “I hear you.”
“Do you?” Her voice is quiet but pointed. “Because it doesn’t feel like you do.”
“I’m trying.”
She studies me for a moment, then sighs. “You’re a good man, Colin. But you’re used to fixing things your way.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not a problem to solve.”
“You’re not,” I say, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek. “You’re the only equation I’ve never wanted to solve. I just want to be part of the answer.”
That makes her blink. Her lips twitch like she’s fighting a smile. “You’re such a nerd.”
“Takes one to kiss one.”
She groans and buries her face in my chest. “I hate how much I like you.”
“You’re pretty okay yourself.”
She snorts. “I’m still mad at you.”
“I’ll still be here when you’re not.”
She looks up at me again, and this time there’s softness in her eyes. No less fire, but less heat. Less burn. “Good,” she says. “Because I’m not going anywhere. Not yet.”
That’s what I needed to hear.
Later, when she’s dressed again and tying her shoes on the couch, she glances back at me. “Do the others know about this place?”
“Just you.”
She lifts a brow. “Why me? Why let me in?”
