Page 59 of Sin Bin Daddies
I reach between us, dragging her shorts down her hips with one hand. She’s already so wet, soaked through her panties, and when I press my fingers against the damp fabric, she keens, her head dropping back against the cabinet.
“That’s what I thought,” I murmur, slipping my fingers beneath the lace, running them through her slick folds, teasing.
“Ford,” she gasps, trying to roll her hips into my touch.
I slide a finger inside her, groaning at how warm she is.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” I rasp, curling my finger, watching her fall apart against the counter.
I add another, stretching her open, my thumb circling her clit in slow, deliberate strokes. She’s panting, grabbing the edge of the counter so tight her knuckles go white.
“Please,” she moans, her voice wrecked, breathless.
I press my forehead against hers, watching her come undone, watching the way her lips part, the way her lashes flutter, the way she looks at me like I’m the only thing keeping her tethered to this moment.
And then I’m pulling my fingers out, yanking my shorts down, pressing the head of my cock against her entrance.
“Tell me you want this,” I demand, my voice rough, strained.
She nods frantically, wrapping her legs around my waist, pulling me closer. “I want this. I wantyou.”
I thrust into her in one smooth stroke, groaning at the way she clenches around me, at the way her nails dig into my shoulders.
I pull out slowly, almost all the way, then slam back in, knocking a gasp from her throat.
“Fuck,” I grunt, holding her waist, setting a brutal pace.
She’s moaning, whispering my name like a prayer, her fingers tangling in my hair, her body rocking with each thrust.
Somewhere in the room, my phone starts ringing.
I ignore it.
She’s too good, too tight, too fucking perfect around me. I bury my face in her neck, sucking at the bruises I left, feeling the way her body reacts to me like she was made for this, forme.
The phone rings again.
I couldn’t care less.
“Fuck, I’m close,” I rasp, gripping her hips tighter, slamming into her harder, chasing my release.
“Me too,” she moans, her body trembling, her nails raking down my back.
I reach between us, pressing my thumb against her clit, circling it in quick, desperate strokes, and she comes undone, her walls clenching around me, her body arching.
I groan, my hips stuttering, and then I’m following her over the edge, spilling inside her, my vision going white.
I bury my face in her shoulder, breathing hard, her body still clenching around me, milking me for everything I have.
It takes a second for the realization to hit.
We didn’t use a condom.
I freeze, lifting my head, pressing a kiss to her damp skin.
“Shit,” I murmur. “I—fuck, I didn’t?—”
She hums, her fingers threading through my hair. “It’s okay. I have an IUD.”
